Pisces had been through much turbulence in the past few cycles: ceaseless storms, magicka surges, unprecedented heat where there ought only to be chill. Even now, the waters proved still too lukewarm in the midst of the ever-shifting weather, sudden temperature changes never allowing them to settle back into their familiar freezing touch. For those who didn't mind shivering after a brisk, energizing swim, they'd surely be disappointed by this, forced to find other ways to wake themselves up at the start of the day. Any fishers, too, might find potential catches elusive, the open avoided in favor of the cool shadows cast by submerged rock. Thankfully not all would find their plans ruined though; some needed just the liquid state, regardless of whether it felt scorching or frigid. So long as that existed, conversions could be made to another more dangerous form, better suited for the battles anticipated ahead.

"Hmm. Not bad."

Through the eternal roar of the cave's waterfall, the comment was little more than an inaudible murmur. Seeing as it was delivered to himself, this didn't bother Fahl as much as it would have otherwise. Sat beside a shallow pool, eyes placid, he watched as wisps of steam curled and drifted up from its glassy surface. Once they stretched thin enough to be barely perceived, the iguana huffed and reached a set of claws out to grasp at the air.

"But I can do better."

A vow—a command—a certainty.

He seized the fire burning within him and channeled it to the scaly underside of his paw. No sooner did he do so than a massive white cloud soared to meet the extended limb. The slightest graze stung with the promise of future burns, causing an immediate backwards scramble to avoid worse. Seeing as he'd done this numerous times before, the response was routine by now. Nevertheless the risk always set his heart fluttering, driven by more than a few close brushes with excruciating pain.

As he had decided in Eridanus, mystical feather disintegrating in his grip, extensive work had to be done. Magic required honing to its most powerful and precise form, else he'd never become the great figure teased by the false future he'd witnessed. Despite the boredom of repetition, that meant practicing with the basics and mastering them before climbing to greater concepts. He understood this, and yet the slow progress rankled, evidenced by the vibrant reds and yellows speckling his hide over time.

Much better than he'd ever accomplished as a hatchling, but far from challenging loathsome sprites that gallivanted outside their prisons. How he regretted allowing anger to take hold at the suggestion of humiliation being Nemean's punishment. Had his thoughts not been so utterly derailed, his original intention to demand execution would have saved him plenty of panic, outrage, and worry.

Alas, the eye-stealer had escaped deserved retribution and more would suffer, no doubt, at her whims. The most he could do was prepare to prevent anything too devastating.

"Oh," groaned the iguana. "You fucking fish-eyed fool."

For all the experience he had accrued over the cycles—improving the strength and reliability of his fire magic, journeying to dangerous places, altering his form as an unintended consequence of participating in Masters' grudges against each other—there continued to be times where Fahl could almost smack himself for being so obtuse about the obvious solution to an enduring problem. Granted, he often forgot the other spells in his repertoire, prone to fixating on his element above the rest. However it wasn't an excuse for ignoring practicality, especially when it could've protected him against many close calls with steam burns.

A souvenir from the same events that should have sealed away Nemean's atrocious self for good, knowledge that allowed him to weave scale-shielding bark into existence had been long at his disposal. Although flammable, the tough exterior would've done well in the face of moist and scalding heat. To neglect this side effect of being rendered a thorny lizard demonstrated a deep-seated idiocy horrifying enough to make his flesh crawl. Leaving the mistake alone would be intolerable and demanded rectification.

With a sharp thrust of intent, stiff fibers crept from beneath scales. They tangled together and coalesced into firm pale bark, running from both shoulders down to where claws remained wickedly curved and exposed. Shaking the sting from its formation revealed a troubling oversight; he'd gone too far, he realized, his elbows frozen in their bent position.

Frustrating as it was, he would not fret anymore, seeing as the issue shouldn't hinder his practice too much. Without fueling the change further, the magic would fade and flake away after a small while. Then he could recast more thoughtfully than before.

He should've known better the first time though.

The bark armor encompassing forelimbs prevented Fahl from making anything remotely close to a dignified return to the pool's edge. Stuck with inflexible pillars, his flailing back legs had to do double the necessary work to propel himself forward. A long and grueling minute passed where all that could be heard were labored breaths accompanied by a combination of desperate scrabbles and dragging scrapes. When at last his snout drew near enough to peer into the water and see tired eyes reflected back, only the present inconvenience kept him from collapsing as immense effort took its toll.

Jumbled noises escaped him in a furious hissing exhale. Had they been in proper order, no doubt they would have been cusses of varying creativity; at the moment, though, he'd neither the time nor patience to phrase them fully and in the proper arrangement.

Unwilling to halt practice for the sake of replenishing the air in lungs, any remaining strength was poured into lifting a single arm. Creaks sounded as heavy strain warred against the rough bark trapping his shoulder. An eventual sharp crack announced a breakthrough, and his paw flew back. Fahl grunted and wrested the appendage into stability before he could suffer a solid smack to the face.

He resumed the usual spellcasting routine: tapped into his inner fire and shoved it wherever he required its power. But an odd behavior stirred within the flame upon grasping it. Previously undetected, whether due to recent appearance or ignorance resulting out of his usual urgency, the instance robbed attention from the hot moisture licking his protected arm's underside.

Why did his magic seem to have a pull of its own?

Normally, any resistance to Fahl's demands came as a natural and expected aspect of his magic. Fire burned, flickered, and swayed in whichever direction his heart's desires might blow. Sometimes this aligned perfectly with intent and made unleashing power easier than first thought. On other occasions, it lead to frustration as every inward reach for the spark he housed was met by evasive action, familiar warmth brushing against claw tips but refusing to be caught and wielded to his ends. Never once, however, did the magic buck against his grip after finally capturing it; and yet here that was precisely what it'd done.

As weak as it was, the movement could have been imagined. For a drawn-out, incredulous while staring dumbfounded into the distance, he very much entertained chalking the experience up to exhaustion and the anomaly a symptom of such. Daring to reach back inside discarded that possibility, though, when an experimental pinch resulted in a repeat of the situation. Pinpricks of white and yellow erupted over dark scales, and claws twitched at the surprising feedback.

"What the...?" Fahl muttered. He released the magic and swiftly grabbed it again before it could twist away from him. The outcome was the same as last time: a momentary struggle in a specific, unchanging direction. A straight line cutting through his chest.

Could this be some new spell granted to him by that feather? Seeing as he hadn't been near any powerful being besides Nemean—oh, how accurately classing her capabilities did repulse him so—it didn't seem anything else could have given this strange feature. And the likelihood she'd handed him anything useful in addition to becoming a honking joke for her amusement was lower than the chance of Pisces's waterfall drying out and raining down embers instead in a cataclysmic event.

Well, regardless of origin, he couldn't leave this untouched. Better to know a potential strength than allow it to be an unknown weakness. Taking the magic's tug as a guideline, he shoved forward and across the water, clueless as to whatever effects might occur.

Without any errant breeze to interfere with results, there could be no denying the signs of disturbance rippling over the pool's glassy surface. As if the outward push of magic had manifested an invisible arm, weak waves formed and fell away from a forward thrust that travelled a small ways beyond the water's edge. Fahl's arm fell, scraps of bark armor losing integrity and peeling away at last, while he gazed speechless upon the minor show of force. Deliberate blinks tried to force better comprehension of the power put on display only for it to collapse under a single question, equal parts bewildered and enthralled.

That... had been him?

The entire scene lacked traits he considered synonymous with power—no shimmering heat or burning sparks or raging flames in sight to announce the superiority inherent to his birth element. Like the ability to render himself treelike, this should have been regarded as nothing more than a convenient companion to more impressive spells. And yet, observing the water gradually return to its normal serenity, he couldn't be content with simply nodding approval of another strength revealed. Somewhere in his soul stirred an insistence this deserved ample awe; it demanded an encore, an elevation from tiny experiment to an absolute spectacle for a weak-kneed and slack-jawed audience.

He followed the tug and cast again.

The replication of events he sought did not come. Instead the magic spiraled into another phenomenon entirely, even more unfathomable than the first. While the waters refused to part, the air above had, and a luminous white fissure now hovered there humming untapped potential.

It appeared that now was the time for the discovery of all sorts of strange phenomena. Starting with the simple act of pushing water using intent alone and moving on to this light leaking out of the thin air, predictions for what might come next were limitless as far as Fahl could tell. If the fish in the shallow ponds were to start singing upon delivery of a frivolous command on his part, there wouldn't be enough surprise in him anymore for the appropriate reaction; one more similar occurrence guaranteed a push beyond the threshold for oddness, forcing any past that point to be acknowledged as more normal than previously believed. He'd have to consider that multiple alterations and infusions of magical knowledge had changed him into someone quite unlike the iguana who'd first toppled into this cave.

Other types of magic had seemed straightforward and recognizable. Fire had its telltale blazes, water was linked to raindrops and deluges alike, and plants twisted and swayed to another's will. This though? He hadn't the foggiest clue what element either of these connected to, and any attempt at reasoning failed to burn away persistent bafflement.

The waves had not been plucked and dragged forward by him, but assaulted by an invisible force, so he had not revealed an aptitude in water magic. Other than being suspended above the ground, the slash in the air surely couldn't have been him ripping it apart. The glow maybe meant light magic? But then why would he tap into it when his intentions had nothing to do with such a thing?

What was he casting outward that could be so difficult to categorize? Was there even a common name for its power?

Despite many questions, at least one confirmation might have been made: this had to be that feather's fault. Recent memory could dredge one image up similar to the white anomaly before him, the ripple in the fabric of reality he had passed through for a story most immersive and haunting. It had been far less showy, a shimmering curtain that could easily slip past attention if one weren't directed to its presence. Nevertheless, the shared traits obvious to the eye proclaimed there was some relation, however small it might be.

Fahl dipped toes into the pond's edge but refused to venture farther. Claws stirred traces of sediment there while a debate brewed within him. After flicking eyes back and forth between the water's smooth surface and the rift patiently waiting a foot above it, he heaved a rumbling sigh.

"Well, shit," he declared. Although the idea of poking his head into another one of these caused his stomach to flip, not much else could be done. Satisfying curiosity would at least mean he'd know if opening freaky entryways to the unknown was a danger or not.

Maybe he could probe it without actually risking his neck. Growing familiarity allowed him to access this new aspect of himself swifter. Hopefully using it wouldn't tear the sky a second time.