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of stimuli.
    “I need to engage myself in another work,” said Korlandril. “If I must expunge these feelings with expression, it is best that I not allow myself to dwell on them for long.”
    “That would be good,” said Abrahasil.
    “I should seek out Aradryan, and listen to him so that I might extract what it is that continues to plague me about his presence.”
    “Be careful, Korlandril,” said the mentor. “You may find Aradryan in an uncertain state, a destabilising influence on your psyche. I sense that you are at a critical stage upon the Path of the Artist. It is my joy to guide you further, but these next steps must be taken with caution. You are on the cusp of realising the full potential of expression, but you must choose wisely those emotions you choose to put on display.”
    Korlandril smiled, calmed by Abrahasil’s gentle tone. A surety settled in his mind, as if a light had sprung into life to show him the way forward. Under the glare of that light, the devious serpent of his jealousy shrank back into the shadows, cowed for the time being.
    Now fully recovered from his dreaming session, Korlandril was filled with purpose once more, his thoughts fixed firmly upon what was to be, the past hidden away where it could do no more damage. Choosing to forget his disagreement with Aradryan, Korlandril lingered for a moment on the happier memories and then allowed those to drift into shadow as well, leaving him nothing but the present and the future.
     
    Korlandril took a skyrunner across the dome, delighting in the rush of air against his skin, the flash of terrace and tree beneath the one-pilot craft as it soared upon the winds, its wings angling and curving in tune with his thoughts. For a short while he allowed himself free rein, forgetting his intent to see Aradryan. Powered by his psychic urging, the dart-like vehicle climbed rapidly, wings tilted back, Korlandril laughing with exhilaration. In his mind his path sculpted a complex web of interleaving arcs and loops and the skyrunner responded, twirling and swooping at his whim.
    As the sensation receded and he returned the skyrunner to a stable flight, Korlandril captured the essence of his experience and stored it away. He briefly imagined creating a work of art out of air and fluid, a piece of constant motion illuminated from within, held in slowly uncoiling stasis.
    Thinking of his art brought Korlandril back to his current errand. The thoughtwave sculpture was a fine idea, but it could wait. He needed to unburden his spirit of the passion roused by Aradryan’s return, and so he angled the skyrunner down towards the silver ribbon of the road, swerving down between the red-leafed icevines on the terraces, darting beneath other craft that zipped to and fro across the dome’s artificial sky.
    Anticipation grew within Korlandril as he sped through the connecting hub between the Dome of New Suns and out into the Avenue of Starlight Secrets. Here there was more traffic. It was one of the main thoroughfares of Alaitoc where hundreds of eldar moved between the many domes and plateaus that made up the bulk of the craftworld. Some strolled languidly by themselves or with friends, others on skyrunners like Korlandril, many on drifting platforms that eased serenely from one place to the next guided by the group desires of those on board.
    Korlandril allowed himself a little amazement at the scene. Rather, not at the scene itself, but at Aradryan’s incomprehension of the inherent beauty and intricacy of the craftworld. Aradryan did not look upon the same things as Korlandril with the eyes of the artist, and so perhaps missed the precision of geometry at subtle odds with the inherent anarchy of a living system. He had not developed the senses to appreciate the cadence of life, the ebb and flow of the living and the immaterial and those things that lay in-between.
    A hope sprang to mind and Korlandril studied it for a moment, slowing the skyrunner slightly so