THE ASTRAL WANDERER

COMPLETE SERIES BOXED SET

 D'ARTAGNAN REY
MICHAEL ANDERLE
 C O NT E NT S

A New Light
Bloodflowers Bloom
The Oblivion Trials
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in
this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Sometimes both.

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Version 1.00, April 2022

eBook ISBN: 979-8-88541-354-1
A NEW LIGHT
THE ASTRAL WANDERER BOOK ONE
 PROLOGUE

“Devol!” Lilli Alouest called and her white dress flowed behind her as she
hurried down the carved stone steps two at a time. “Devol, what did I say
about running off?”
She reached the well-maintained path of stones and dirt that ran through
Emerald Forest—the wooded area outside the kingdom of Monleans—from
one side to the other.
The mother’s gaze darted warily from left to right and she dragged in a
nervous breath as she reminded herself of the old wives’ tale. As long as you
stay along the path, you are safe.
The Emerald Forest was not home to an abundance of carnivorous
creatures, but it was not unusual to encounter animals there now and then,
and some of those could be quite fearsome.
“Mother, come and have a look at this!” Her head jerked to the right as a
boy’s voice carried between the limbs and through the brush to her ears. “I’ve
found an oasis.”
She blew a sharp breath of relief and a little of her tension released.
“Those aren’t found in a forest, Devol,” she stated and allowed herself a
small giggle, her humor somewhat restored by the fact that she could at least
hear her son.
Curious as to what held his attention so completely that he didn’t run to
her as he usually did, she followed the direction of his voice and stepped off
the path. Ignoring her nervousness, she pushed through the shimmering green
leaves that gave the forest its name and into its depths. Finally, she found him
walking around a large pond while he stared at his reflection in the glittering
waters.
 “You think this is on the map?” he asked, retrieved a scroll, and opened
it. “We could be the first to mark it.” His eyes narrowed before he flipped it
right-side up.
“I’m fairly sure this is Franco’s Pond, Devol,” his mother answered and
rested a hand on his shoulder. “You know, one of the original explorers of the
forest?”
The young boy’s gaze darted around the map until he tapped the location
with a finger and sighed. “Yeah, I see.” He rolled the scroll again and placed
it in his back pocket. With a disappointed expression, he looked around at the
trees surrounding the pond. “I suppose it is too close to the road for it to be
undiscovered.”
“I’m not sure there are many places here that haven’t been explored by
now,” she agreed as she glanced at three azure-colored birds that soared
skyward. “This forest has stood alongside the city since its founding. Many
explorers and hunters have come through here for over a thousand years.”
Devol sighed, removed his jacket, and dropped it beside him as he
crossed his legs and sat beside the water. “That’s true,” he said as he eased
his arms back and leaned on his hands. “Guess I’ll have to wait a little longer
before I can think about finding anything new, huh?”
“Well,” Lilli responded, “this is new to you, isn’t it?” She laughed,
hoping to comfort him with a fresh way to look at the experience. “You did
not know some of the details I told you so in a way, you are making
discoveries.”
He shrugged and grinned wistfully as he stretched on his back on the
forest floor with his hands behind his head. “You are technically right,
Mother. But you know what I am talking about, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she replied and moved a small rock out of the way with
her foot before she lowered herself to sit beside him. “And that day will come
for you, Devol. I know you wish for adventure and despite my requests to
your father for him to not hurry your training along so much, you will be
more than ready when you apply for the guards.”
The boy’s smile widened. “I’m already better at swordplay than almost
any recruit. I’ll probably rank highly during the entrance trials and get to skip
the beginner training and start with more advanced swordsmanship.” He
looked at his mother. “Father says the survey team could always use more
members. I think I may join them when the time comes.”
His mother looked at him with a smile to hide the trace of sadness stirred
by the thought of him leaving. “If that is your choice. But that is a couple of
years away.” She stroked his auburn hair as she focused on their reflections
in the water. “And until then, try to enjoy yourself as much as you can, all
right?”
“Of course, Mother.” Devol closed his eyes. “But you don’t need to be
anxious about anything. Your son will be one of the best swordsmen in the
kingdom. You shouldn’t worry about anything bad happening as long as—”
He was interrupted by the panicked cries of birds and deer behind them.
His mother looked over her shoulder and he casually did the same. Animals
fled in various directions as something approached them. “What is that?” he
asked as a large, dark shape slunk forward.
Lilli turned pale. “Devol, we need to go,” she ordered, scrambled to her
feet, and yanked the boy up. “Now!”
The shadow launched forward with a ferocious howl and covered an
unbelievable distance in one stride. It landed several yards from them and
they gaped in horror at a large wolf with deep black fur and large fangs. The
beast's gaze seemed to burrow into theirs with a blank, feral white stare.
“A dire wolf?” Devol gasped and reached for the short sword on his belt.
“In the Emerald Forest?”
“Devol!” Lilli whispered, her tone quiet but urgent. “Get behind me.”
By the time the boy glanced at her, he had already drawn his sword. The
beast snarled and snapped its teeth together ravenously before it growled and
lunged at him. She ran between it and her son and held a hand up.
“Shield!” She shouted the cantrip command and a yellow light sparked
from her hand, flared into purple light directly ahead of her, and created the
shape of a circular shield made of Mana, the magical energy of the realm.
The dire wolf powered into it and hurled her back into her son, and both fell
awkwardly.
She pushed quickly to her feet and pointed at the wolf. “Missile!” Three
orbs of yellow light streaked away from her and all curved around the wolf.
The animal began to run back to evade the attack before it darted quickly to
the side. Two of the magical projectiles careened into the base of trees and
left large indentations.
The beast skidded to a halt, turned to face the last missile, and ducked
quickly as the orb sailed overhead and into the pond where it erupted. Water
sprayed in a vertical column, reached an impressive height, and rained on the
mother, son, and wolf.
 “It is fast,” she noted and prepared another spell. “And intelligent.”
A vicious snarl preceded a loud, ear-piercing howl. The humans covered
their ears involuntarily to shield them against the painful noise. The wolf
surged toward the mother, whose eyes widened as it attacked.
The onslaught flung her on the forest floor with a painful thud as her
attacker uttered another cry, this one of surprise. She looked hastily at her
son, who scrambled quickly to his feet and held his blade up, which was now
smeared with a splash of blood. She promptly checked him for wounds but
found none. The wolf, however, had a long gash along its left side.
“It’s all right, Mother,” he assured her, and although he did look slightly
rattled, he wore a confident smirk. “What use is all that boasting if I cannot
back it up?”
Lilli knew his confidence was misplaced. The wolf had been feral and
hungry before and his strike had now made it angry as well. Dire wolves
were known for their ferocity. Even if they now managed to escape, it would
pursue them like the relentless hunter it was until it was able to tear them
apart.
As it took a few steps closer to the boy, Devol raised his blade to defend
himself. Lilli stood hastily and held a hand out. “Flash!”
A bright sphere of white light formed in her hand before it exploded and
covered the area around them in a blinding light. The beast snarled as Devol
shielded his eyes. She ran to him, caught his arm, and dragged him away.
They sprinted through the dense growth and onto the path and quickly
ascended the stone steps that led to the edge of the greenery. She knew they
wouldn’t make it before the dire wolf caught up, however, and her mind
raced. They would need to find the forest rangers to help them fell the beast.
Her heart sank when she realized they wouldn’t have the chance for even
that. Massive paws thudded on the forest floor behind them. Lilli looked over
her shoulder and gasped.
The animal was already in pursuit. Its eyes still blinked rapidly, likely
from the blaze of light, and it must have followed them using smell and
sound. It was only a short distance away from them now, and from the jump
she had seen it make earlier, it was an easy distance to cover.
She released her son and shoved him forward into a run as she spun and
shouted the incantation to summon another shield. Before it could fully form,
the wolf swiped a large, clawed paw at her. The incomplete shield protected
her from the attack but was destroyed and released a small blast of Magic that
knocked her off her feet but barely disturbed the beast’s fur.
“Mother!” Devol shouted and raced back as the wolf attempted a killing
strike. He vaulted high and swung his sword, to slice cleanly into the dire
wolf’s face and blind one of its eyes.
It uttered another angry, pained howl and lashed wildly at her with its
claws. The boy attempted to pull his mother away but a warning from her
made him turn and he attempted to parry or block the uncoordinated strikes
from his adversary.
His short sword was eventually knocked out of his hands, and it spun
blade over hilt, deep into the forest. The next attack hurled him away and
lacerated his chest. Unable to slow his momentum, he collided painfully with
a tree.
“Devol!” Lilli shrieked as the wolf regained at least some of its senses. Its
front paws thumped into the dirt and it hovered over her. One eye stared
relentlessly at her while the other dripped blood from its wound.
The boy forced himself up when he realized their attacker was about to
kill his mother. He felt a fear he never had before—that he was about to see
the death of a loved one. Desperate, he ran forward and extended his hand
with no plan of what to do. He might have been a Magi like his mother and
father, but he was a swordsman and not particularly gifted in cantrips like she
was. His blade was now lost in the forest and he had no time to search for it.
He did not know what he would do, only that he would not let her die.
The dire wolf turned toward him and opened its jaws to bare its fangs.
Saliva dripped to the dirt in anticipation of a kill. Lilli’s cry registered
vaguely but he could not hear the words. Instead, he lunged forward to attack
the beast with whatever he had left.
As the animal left his mother and turned to meet his feeble assault,
another blinding flash gave both adversaries pause. Was it his mother’s
cantrip again? He could see, even with the bright light, and frowned when he
realized it had come from his hand. Something solid settled in his palm—the
hilt of a weapon, as impossible as it seemed—and he grasped it instinctively
in both hands.
Without looking to see what he held, he arced it to deliver as powerful a
blow as he could. The beast was in the middle of its lunge and unable to
break away. Devol slid along the dirt, breathing heavily, and grimaced when
he felt something warm along his neck, hands, and face. Blood? He felt no
pain, though, so he checked himself quickly and looked at his hand. It was
indeed blood, but it appeared to not be his.
The dire wolf sprawled in a crumpled heap a few yards away, the front
half of its body cut in half. His eyes widened as he checked his other hand,
which still clutched the weapon that had appeared so suddenly.
Not unsurprisingly, it proved to be a long, ornate sword, but he could not
discern the details as it glowed far too brightly. This was no ordinary blade,
he could tell that much, but the way it looked, encased in the celestial light,
he couldn’t make out the finer features. Still, it felt right in his hand and
although it seemed strange, it filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort.
Devol snapped to his senses and glanced at his mother to check on her.
He wondered if he wore a similar shocked expression as she did when she
looked at the blade and then at him. Something appeared in her eyes—a
similar look of concern bordering on sorrow to the one she’d had when he
had discussed his future.
She stood with a grimace, walked closer, and hugged him before she
drew back and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Thank you, Devol,” she
said and looked at the blade. “We will…need to talk to your father about
what is to come.”
 CHAPTER ONE

“Hey, mister, can I have seconds?” a boy shouted above the loud chatter of
the Hearthfire Inn. It was barely morning, but many men and women
crowded the tables and ate their fill at the start of their early day.
“Aye, boy,” the innkeeper nodded, took the empty plate with large, plump
hands, and stroked his beard to the side. “As long as you got the cobalt for it,
of course.” The child offered a bright smile, slid his hand to his belt and into
his purse, and withdrew a small piece of a blue metallic material in the shape
of a jagged line. With an arched eyebrow, the proprietor asked, “A whole
splinter? You only need a few bits for one plate, my friend.”
His young patron nodded and placed it on the table. “Well, I might order
more. Plus it’s my attempt at recompense after I kept your kids awake far
later than intended.”
The man chuckled although the boy was fair and had the right of it. He
had spent the previous evening regaling his children with tales of his old
man, who was a captain of the guard in the capital city of Monleans. When
the innkeeper had tried to shoo his brood away and stop them from disturbing
the customer, the boy quickly defended his temporary playmates and
continued, and his stories had eventually delayed the children’s bedtime by a
good hour.
“You did keep my children entertained, for sure, if a little too long.” He
placed the empty bowl on the bar and nodded to the chef, his chipper wife,
through the window to the kitchen to let her know to prepare a second omelet
and toast as he turned to the boy again. “You would think I had forced them
to do hard labor with the way they whined getting out of bed this morning.”
With a rather sheepish frown, the youngster pushed the splinter toward
him. “Guess I did stretch it too long. Take it, please.”
A little hesitantly, the innkeeper picked it up and examined it. The inert
piece of cobalt would be far more valuable if it was charged, but even a splint
like this was far more than was necessary. His young patron would have to
stay another day and enjoy a couple of large meals to come even close to the
value held in his hand. “Oh, not now,” he retorted with a smirk as he sat
across from the youngster and put the splint on the table. “I should be
thankful. If the truth be told, I haven’t seen my kiddies sit in one place for
that long in many days. I was able to finish my list of chores for once instead
of chasing them around.”
The boy shrugged and smiled again as he gestured at the splint. “Well, I’ll
leave this here,” he stated quietly and took a sip of water from his white clay
cup. “I should be thankful as, well…you’re the first innkeeper who welcomed
me without a barrage of questions. I didn’t mind answering them, but they
hardly made me feel welcome in an inn.” He pursed his lips to the side and
looked up as a question seemed to form in his mind. “It seems
counterproductive now that I think about it.”
“There’s an art to every job, my boy,” the man reasoned as he set his
massive arm on the surface elbow-first and rested his chin on his palm.
“Some people have the skills but not the knowledge, you know?”
“My mother says something similar,” the youngster responded and
swirled the liquid in his cup. “She usually says, ‘There is a difference
between doing something and doing it well, and only those smart enough will
know the difference.”
“Smart woman,” the innkeeper declared with a loud laugh. He leaned
back in the chair and folded his arms. “At the risk of sounding like one of
those idiot innkeepers you’ve run into, I must admit I am curious as to how
you came this way on your own—if you don’t mind me prying.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem.” The boy fumbled beside his chair and lifted a
dark-brown satchel that he dug through quickly. He brought a map out—
mostly white but some areas darker than others—that suggested both use and
age. “I won’t bore you with all the details, but I’m heading to the bay town
on the coast—Fairwind.”
“All the way from Monleans?” The man didn’t hide his understandable
shock as that was almost three hundred miles away. “Whatever for, boy? You
must have been making this trek for weeks!”
“Only about nine days, actually,” he said and unrolled the map on the
table. “My father had business in Warpaw. I traveled there with him and left a
couple of days after.” He traced his finger over the parchment to show his
companion his route. “Went through Tuffles, then Leyoville, then Filo.” He
pointed to the village he was now in—Bluebell. “Before I arrived here at
your inn.”
“Truly now?” The innkeeper stroked his red beard. “Still, even starting in
Warpaw, that’s some distance to travel on foot.”
“I got some rides from other travelers,” he explained and glanced at a
candle on the side of the table. “But I’m also a fairly fast walker.” With a
small smile, he pointed to the candle, pressed his thumb and middle finger
together, and snapped them, and the wick lit itself.
“Ah, a little Magi, I see.” His companion nodded. “My eldest daughter
and son have something of a knack for that, although the most they use it for
is getting the brooms to clean things themselves and anything else they can
do to get out of doing their chores.”
The boy's eyes lit up. “Does that mean you practice the Mana arts too?”
A noise that was a mixture between a grunt and a light laugh from his
large companion made the boy grin. “Hardly, and no more than the average
man. I use some of my Mana to help with heavy lifting.” He stretched his
already large arm and flexed. It increased slightly in size and a white light
shimmered very briefly under the skin. “Nothing much more than that. They
get it from their mother mainly. She doesn’t use it much herself but there is a
reason she can run the kitchen almost on her lonesome. Many of the dishes
take care of themselves.”
“So, you can use Vis, then?” A waitress arrived with his second breakfast.
He thanked her quickly before he tucked into the meal with enthusiasm.
“Vis?” the Innkeeper asked before he nodded. “Right, that’s the term for
Mana enhancement—less wordy, though. I can but barely. Me forgetting the
word should tell you how little mind I pay to it.”
“It’s not a problem,” the boy assured him. “In all honesty, I only
practiced it as much as I did thanks to my mother. Her mother used to teach
at one of the academies and she taught me. And I can only use Mana in
practical ways—the disciplines and all that. I can’t do many of the fancy stuff
like cantrips. Lighting that candle is basically my only trick.”
“You didn’t go to the academy yourself?” the innkeeper asked.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and shook his head. “No, my parents
tutored me—well, my mother mostly. I learned a few things on my own as
well.” He finished a piece of toast and leaned back “Thanks for the meal.”
The innkeeper looked down and his eyes almost bulged. The plate was
clean, and he realized the youngster had eaten it all in a little over a minute.
He could eat like a likan.
“Hey, Devol!” a young voice called. The boy and innkeeper turned to see
a young red-haired girl run toward them, followed by a boy with brown hair
and another young girl with red hair. They dragged chairs closer and gathered
around the table. “Hey, Devol, do you think you can play with us today?
We’ll have our chores done by noon.”
Devol ran his hands through his long auburn hair. “Sorry, I’ll be gone by
then.”
“Oh, boo.” The girl in the pink dress sighed and her father darted her a
disapproving look.
“If I come back, we can play then, okay?” he promised, and although the
children nodded, they still pouted to reveal their disappointment.
“You should probably get those chores finished instead of spending your
time sulking,” their father said sternly. “Help your mother in the kitchen and
tell her I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, Father,” the children replied in unison, stood quickly, and raced
away. Devol waved at them as they left.
“You have spirited kids,” he noted as they disappeared behind a door that
led to the kitchen.
“Aye.” The innkeeper nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose before he
smiled affectionately. “They can try my sanity sometimes but they fill my
heart.”
Devol laughed and bumped the sword that leaned on his chair, which fell
with a thud. He picked it up and placed it on the side of the table. The
innkeeper studied it with open curiosity. It was sheathed in a scabbard of
darkened leather but the hilt was silver and wrapped in a similar black leather
binding. The handguard had a pointed tip, but only one way. In fact, despite
its size and shape, it looked almost like it was half of a larger blade, even in
the sheath.
“Boy, that sword…” he began, and the boy glanced at his weapon.
“That’s a unique weapon you have there.”
“I know, right?” He grinned and gestured at it with his thumb. “It’s the
reason I’m out here. It’s a magical sword.”
“That so?” The man chuckled. “An exotic weapon? Those can be quite
pricey.”
“I don’t think it’s an exotic,” the boy admitted. “Or at least not a typical
one. It merely…appeared one day.”
“Merely appeared?” he asked and stroked his chin in thought. “I’ve heard
of warriors getting runes on their exotics that allow them to teleport the blade
to their hands. Is it something like that?”
“No. Up until about a month ago, I’d never seen it before.” The youngster
shrugged and finished his drink. “I’m going to meet someone who can
hopefully explain what it is.”
The proprietor nodded and peered at the map again. “I see. About that…”
He placed his finger on the dot marking Bluebell. “From what I’ve seen of
your current path, you’re not heading west, are you?”
Devol frowned a little in confusion and focused on the map. “Unless I
read it wrong, that is the quickest path, right?”
“In distance, sure, but also to an early grave,” the innkeeper warned and
folded his arms. “That leads to the Wailing Woods. As you can probably
guess by the name, it’s not a great place to take a stroll through.”
“Huh.” The boy moved the map closer to the lit candle and studied it
carefully. “You’d think they’d mention that here.”
“It’s more of a local name but one well earned.”
After a moment, Devol looked away and out one of the inn’s windows “I
thought I saw a road in that direction.”
“It splits and heads down another path around the woods,” the innkeeper
clarified. “They tried to make a road through it but the crew sent to chop it
down only got part of the way in.”
“They get scared off by something?” the boy asked as he tapped his fork
on his plate.
“Some did and got right the hell out,” his companion said with a grim nod
“Others… Well, they didn’t make it out. The ‘wailing’ part of the name
comes from those who have been lost within or left to die or be killed by the
beasties there. There is something off about those woods and the beasties are
a big threat—snakes, giant rodents, flesh-eating insects, and even flayers.
Some people have claimed even imps and likan roam the forest. Can’t say
I’ve seen them myself, but if it were true, this village sure as hell isn’t far
enough away from it.”
The boy pursed his lips, leaned back, and tapped his chin in thought. “I
should probably buy a torch before setting off, then.”
 The innkeeper’s stern face melted into one of bafflement. “Do what now,
boy?”
“Hmm?” He looked up. “A torch. Most of what you have described are
creatures that live in darkened areas. It must mean that the forest is dark
enough for them to be there so it would probably be wise for me to take a
torch.”
The innkeeper wanted to holler in the boy’s face that he simply didn’t
understand, that if he wanted to be ‘wise,’ he wouldn’t go there at all. But his
skepticism made him stutter his words before one of his daughters ran to him
and tugged his shirt. “Daddy, Mommy says we have more customers and you
need to get back to working the bar and main parlor.”
“Huh? Uh…sure, darling. Tell her I’ll get right on it.” He stood, slid his
chair in, and turned to point at his young patron. “Stay right there. I need to
tend to something before I come back and smack some sense into you, boy.”
Devol cocked an eyebrow. “Why would I wait for that?”
The innkeeper shook his head as he went to tend to his new customers.
The youngster pushed to his feet and waved goodbye. “Thank you for the
hospitality, Mr. Bernard!” He smiled with his silver eyes wide, sat again, and
adjusted his blue-and-white jacket and black slacks. After a moment, he
decided to close the coat over a white shirt.
Bernard sighed. He should probably have smacked the auburn-haired boy
to put an end to his craziness before he left him. A little anxious, he hurried
to finish his tasks as quickly as he could lest the hospitality go to waste when
the boy got himself killed.

Bernard took the last orders hastily and passed them to his wife. That done,
he told his kids to clean the tables of the guests who had finished eating while
he took a map off a shelf near the bar, found a pen, and marked it to show a
clear path around the woods. Maybe this would help to persuade the boy to
not venture through that accursed place. If he needed more convincing…well,
he had said he would smack some sense into him and only slightly in jest.
When he came out from behind the bar and entered the side room where
the youngster had been seated, however, his place was empty. On the table
lay a note and the cobalt splinter. The man looked at the hastily written letter
with a scowl.

Mr. Bernard,
Thank you again for the room and food. Sorry I could not say
goodbye to you and your wife and children, but if this forest is as bad
as you say, I probably want to make the journey through it with as
much sunlight as possible. Please keep the splinter for being so nice
to me. Hope to see you again if I come through.
Devol Alouest

The innkeeper ran a hand down his face and released a deep sigh. He
wondered if he should go and look for the boy before he got too far. If
something befell him, even if it were as a result of his stupidity, he would feel
terrible. But a part of him was sure that he would hightail it back to town
once he saw the woods. No sane person would see even the forest line and
think it safe in any way.
He collected a few coins from nearby tables and decided he would give
them to the kids. They had earned a little extra and he would tell them it was
from Devol. It would at least help them to remember him fondly when the
boy returned that night—and he was sure he would have a much more
exciting story to tell about the woods when he did.

“A torch was the right call,” Devol mused and snapped his fingers to light it
as he began his journey through the Wailing Woods. He had to admit that
they certainly looked the part of a creepy forest. It was rather dark, even with
the sun now properly out. Shadows lingered along the closest thing to a path
that he could find, which mostly meant those sections of the woodland floor
with the least shrubbery and potential hiding places for snakes, of which he
had seen a few. He’d encountered no flesh-eating insects or likan yet, but he
had found the signs of the rodents—pawprints and droppings along the way.
The trees were odd as well, with dark-gray bark and some with unusual white
stains akin to chalk or ash. He did not have a clue where that could come
from.
He did keep the warning of flayers in mind. Those were particularly
nasty. He had only read about them and seen the bones of one at a museum,
but even most assuredly dead, they were unnerving. They had long, angular
heads with a lean physique and curved arms and legs with giant crescent-
shaped claws that they used to strip the skin of their prey. From what he
understood, that meant anything with blood and meat, so he would certainly
qualify as prey if he encountered one.
His senses alert, he strode along his rough path until he heard a noise.
Well, several noises, but the breathing in particular caught his attention. He
huddled behind one of the trees, extinguished the torch quickly, and slid it
into his pack as he scanned the forest in front of him. The sound was garbled,
harsh, and almost wheezing, which suggested that whatever made it was
struggling although he couldn’t be sure of that.
He caught sight of a round, dark object—a hairy blob with a pink-white
tail—and noticed two more behind it. The first reared its head to reveal a
large, puffy, furry face with pale, fleshy lips. Two pointed front teeth
protruded and round gray eyes darted keen gazes in all directions. They were,
quite unmistakably, the giant rats.
Were they hunting or scavenging? Despite their size, they were not the
most ferocious of hunters, often prey for bigger beasts than them or packs of
smaller ones. They traveled in small groups whenever they ventured out of
their domain, and Devol doubted this was a morning stroll for them.
Then he noticed something else far ahead of the creatures but in their
path. It appeared to be a man, although he was too far away to see details, and
he wore what he thought might be a dark-gray or black hooded cloak. He was
crouched in front of some shrubbery and seemingly studied it or looked at
something within. The boy looked from him to the rats.
This would not end well if the stranger were caught off-guard. Giant rats
were not terribly agile, but they made up for it with quick, vicious strikes on
unlucky prey, and their girth was not merely fat but well-muscled as well. He
realized that the heavy breaths were the last lungful of air the beasts would
take before they began to creep up on their potential meal.
His first instinct was to shout a warning to the man, but that would draw
their attention and he was a closer target. He had no problem facing them if
he had to, but it wasn’t his best option and it would be better to do so while
he had the advantage.
With that in mind, he reached back for his sword. After the first day he
had wielded it, he had not fought anything or anyone with it, only used it for
practice before his parents sent him hurriedly to find those who could help
him—the Templars. Well, it seemed like now was a good time to break the
blade in properly.
 C H A P T E R T WO

Devol drew the sword and couldn’t help but look at it for a moment. The
blade was broad and the tip was pointed and angular and sloped forward.
What made it unique in his eyes, however, was what it was made of. It did
not appear to be metal and had looked like glass the first time he saw it.
Even now, it was almost translucent. In the light, he could barely discern
a shimmer of some kind of light within of a pale gold or white color, at least
when it was in his hands. When he wasn’t holding it, the blade almost looked
like nothing more than a showpiece. It was dangerous, though, as the dire
wolf that had attacked him and his mother could have attested to if it was still
alive and could speak.
He crept quickly but quietly toward his quarry. Now only a few yards
behind the rats, he was careful to not step on any twigs or scuff against any of
the trees and reveal his presence. If he could strike without them noticing, he
could potentially kill one of them immediately and leave him with only two
to deal with. He inhaled quietly, closed his eyes, and let his Mana flow. It
surged through his body and connected to his muscle and his skeleton. He
instantly grew more energetic and felt lighter.
When he held his weapon up, he barely registered the weight. The light
inside seemed to glimmer and he lowered it hastily, hoping he hadn’t given
his position away. The rats continued their advance toward the stranger,
unaware of him for now. He stepped behind a tree for cover, knelt, and
noticed a small rock on the ground. Cautiously, he picked it up, located
another trunk beside the rats, and lobbed the stone at it.
It struck its target with a sharp clunk and left a noticeable crack. The rats
responded with confused growls and their heads looked around as one. Devol
leapt as high as he could. His jump took him up more than ten yards. Still, he
could not have been more than a third of the height of the trees when he
turned his blade to point it down as he began to drop back to earth. The
creatures looked around and tried to find the source of the noise as he landed
and drove his weapon into the center rat’s head.
The animal uttered a pained shriek and he yanked his sword from its head
as the two others bounded to the side. Startled, they watched their mischief
mate convulse and fall still and silent. The boy turned his attention to the one
on the right and lunged toward it with his blade aimed at its chest. It jumped
back as he tried to strike, then responded with an angry hiss as it retaliated
with a vicious pounced attack. The one behind him pounded its feet on the
forest floor before it jumped into the fray and the two tried to pin him
between them.
He flung himself aside and they both missed him and narrowly avoided
colliding with each other. Devol darted away and glanced over his shoulder
to see if the racket had alerted the man. He could no longer see him, assumed
he must have run off in fright, and sighed with relief. At least he only had one
person to worry about now—himself.
His furred adversaries crept cautiously toward him and he held his blade
up. He inched back slowly, looked over his shoulder again, and noticed a
small clearing in the woods a short distance behind him. Instinct told him he
should get to it in case other giant creatures nearby were summoned by the
pained cries of their brethren.
One of the rats launched into an attack, its claws and teeth ready to sink
into his flesh. Devol flipped his blade on its side, pushed forward to catch the
rat's claws, and parried to the right of the oversized vermin. As it landed, he
flipped his blade and stabbed it down and behind him, deep into his
adversary’s back and through its stomach.
It responded with a pained hiss and its tail waved wildly and almost
tripped him. Thankfully, the young swordsman managed to sidestep the
erratic appendage and ran toward the clearing with the other creature in
pursuit.
The glade was almost circular with an odd extended area at the north end.
Dead branches and pieces of bone lined the edges of it. The boy bounded
over what appeared to be a large broken femur and slid on the wet, brown,
and sickly-green grass. He spun as his would-be attacker hurdled its large
body over the bone. Once it landed, its head jerked from side to side and it
made a nervous clicking sound with its teeth.
He didn’t know what caused the sudden change in behavior but decided
not to waste the opportunity. His Mana flowed to soothe his legs and seep
into the muscles, and when he felt he was ready, he bent at the knees and
launched himself at the rat. It snapped its head toward him and opened its
maw as it stood on its hind legs, surprising him. As it began to fall forward,
he wondered if it had anticipated the charge and been ready for it. He stopped
a few feet in front of the rodent and thrust his blade forward as its claws
lashed at his face. This was a moment when the winner would be decided by
who made the killing blow first.
The light in the blade flared and the sword enlarged and lengthened.
Devol was shocked and told himself it was merely a trick of the light. Or
perhaps the shadows in the woods? It sank into his adversary’s head and
stopped it in its tracks. The large claws dangled mere inches from his throat,
lifeless and pointing uselessly at the ground.
The rat made no sound as it fell heavily on his sword. He had to wedge
his boot against its stomach and push hard to free his weapon. Once he’d
shaken his weapon to get some of the viscera off, he took a handkerchief out
and ran it along the blade to clean it more thoroughly. He checked the sword
while he did this. It seemed to be the same measurements it had always been
—the blade about thirty-two inches in length and slightly longer than a
standard sword.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for the shining blade itself, but
he was already aware of that. He grimaced at the handkerchief, a little queasy
at the thought of keeping it in his jacket pocket, and wondered if it was even
salvageable. The sound of someone clapping behind him distracted him from
his debate.
He spun with his sword raised and frowned at the man in the dark cloak
who applauded him, as far as he could tell. Devol was somewhat surprised to
see him as he’d thought he had run off. This close, he was able to see more
detail. The stranger was dressed all in black—a long-sleeved black shirt and
trousers with black boots and gloves to match his cloak and cowl. On his
back was a large pack, and around his waist, a leather belt held a white gourd
filled with liquid that sloshed when he moved and something else wrapped in
a black cloth attached to either side. The boy couldn’t get a good look at his
face as it was obscured by his hood and the shadows from the forest.
“Well done,” the man said and lowered his hands. He had an incredibly
deep voice and it rattled as he spoke like his throat was producing its own
echo. “That only took you a couple of minutes. For a boy your age to not
only wander into this nasty place but to fell three giant rats with little
difficulty means you are very gifted.” He folded his arms and inclined his
head as he stared at him. “Not to mention that you have something special
with you as well.”
“Who…are you?” Devol asked hesitantly, not sure if he should lower his
blade in a show of peace or hold it ready.
“Me?” the man asked and took a few steps forward—not toward him but
to the center of the clearing. “I suppose today, I am something of a
groundskeeper.”
Before the boy could ask him what he meant by that, he heard more
breathing, this time sharper than the rats and very agitated. He spun and held
his sword with both hands as he and the stranger looked toward the odd
narrow extension of the clearing directly ahead of them
He saw eyes before anything else—broad, somewhat bulbous, and white.
The next thing he noticed was a glint from long talons caught in one of the
few beams of pure sunlight streaming into the woods. A beast stalked into the
clearing. It walked hunched on all fours and stepped over the branches and
bones.
When it stopped several feet away from them, it leaned upon two angled
legs and stood easily at over seven feet tall. A long, curved maw held thin,
spike-like teeth and pale, ashen colored scales covered its flesh. It extended
its sinewy arms and its long claws moved closer to them.
“A flayer?” Devol asked quietly and steadied his hands after a moment of
surprise at the sight of it. This one was much larger than the bones at the
museum had led him to believe them to be.
“Indeed, and an alpha at that,” the stranger stated. He removed the gourd
from his belt and took a quick sip before he replaced it. “Although that may
be by default. It seems only a few flayers take refuge in these woods at a time
and quickly eliminate the others who are weaker. They aren’t particularly
good neighbors, even with their kin.”
As if in response to the comments, the beast’s head twitched from side to
side and it clicked its teeth together a couple of times before it uttered a loud,
shrill shriek. The boy gritted his teeth rather than trying to cover his ears. He
would prefer to not let his guard down at this moment.
“Think you can take it?” his odd companion asked and fixed him with
what might have been a challenging look.
He broke his determined gaze briefly to glance at him with an exasperated
expression. “I’d rather not,” he admitted and braced his legs in preparation
for either fight or flight. “But even with my Mana, I don’t think I can outrun
it. So if it comes to it, I will fight.” He focused on the spindly creature again
and his sword began to glow as if to corroborate his words.
The stranger chuckled, unfolded his arms, and motioned for him to lower
his blade. “I admire your resilience and your courage, but you can try your
hand at it some other time.” He proceeded to walk forward toward the
creature with what seemed like suicidal calm.
Devol almost dropped his blade in his panic. “Wait, don’t!”
The flayer shrieked again as it lunged at the man, its front limbs stretched
to either side. The arms moved together toward his head so fast that Devol
could barely comprehend its speed. Unperturbed by the fact that he was about
to be beheaded in moments, the stranger ducked quickly, and the massive
curved talons missed his neck and each other. The trace of wind created by
their passing dislodged the man’s hood as he placed one finger under the
flayer’s chin at the point where the creature’s head and neck met. “Bolt.”
In a moment, a red arrow made of Mana pierced its head and protruded at
a point where it looked like it came out of the man’s fingertip. The beast
seized instantly and gurgled for a moment as its attacker stepped to the side
and let it fall to the earth with a loud thud.
The boy was speechless, not only at the sight of the terrifying creature
felled so quickly and casually but at finally seeing the man, if that was what
he was. His skin was as dark as ink but with white markings around his eyes,
the curves of his ears, and the bridge of his nose. Devol couldn’t tell if it was
some kind of paint or natural. He had narrow eyes—silver like his but with
no irises—and his long, thin alabaster hair was tied into a bun. Something
was different about it, though, and it looked more like twine than healthy hair
strands. He looked at his young companion, amusement on his face when he
saw his bewildered expression.
“Their scales offer them some defense against blades and the like, but the
flesh on the underside of their head is surprisingly thin.” The stranger held
his gaze and grinned. “Why so surprised, my friend?” he asked and slid his
index finger and thumb under his chin as he observed him. His slightly
pointed teeth were more noticeable when his grin turned to a smile. “Have
you never seen a mori before?”
 “A mori?” the boy asked, his blade in his hand but pointed toward the
earth. “You’re a realmer?”
“Indeed, and from the sounds of it, you haven’t seen one before, have
you?” the man asked and took another sip from his gourd.
Devol shook his head. “Not a realmer, no. I’ve met wildkin and even seen
a fleuri—well, I think it was but I don’t remember if they are purple.”
“If they sprout in the winter, it is a possibility,” his companion told him,
placed a hand on his chest, and extended the other arm as he bowed. “But I
suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Vaust Lebatt,
formerly an Archon of House…well, I suppose it doesn’t matter with it being
formerly.” He stood and folded his arms. “I am more of a drifter now. Care to
share something of yourself with me? What brings you here?”
Despite a little inward hesitation, the boy sheathed his blade. “My name
is Devol Alouest, son of Victor and Lilli Alouest. I’m here because I’m on a
journey to the Templar Order and this forest is on the path I was told to take.”
“The Templars?” Vaust questioned and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Not many look for them these days. Usually, it is the other way around.
What reason could you have to look for such people?”
He scratched his head and sifted through his memories. “Well, a couple
of weeks ago, I was with my mother in the Emerald Forest outside Monleans,
and a large dire wolf attacked us—the biggest I’ve seen in person.” He drew
the sword again and held it up, and his reflection caught in the blade. “It
immediately attacked us. I wanted to protect her but I had no weapon. I…
well, something happened only moments before it struck. A flash of light
almost blinded me, and I felt something or someone take my hand. When the
light disappeared, the wolf was dead and I was holding this sword.”
Vaust studied the blade curiously and didn’t initially see anything of note.
After a few moments, however, he saw it gleam— perhaps it had caught a
beam of sunlight? He shook his head when he realized it was still in the
shadow of the forest. The shimmer flared to a bright achromatic light, and it
encompassed the blade before it grew to an uncomfortable glare and glowed
around the edges of the blade.
It was magical, without a doubt, and it was not only for illumination. He
could tell right away that the sword was far more than the standard exotic.
When the boy looked at him, the sword still bright in his hand, Vaust nodded.
“I see you have something special indeed,” he said, his voice almost a purr.
“That, my young friend, is a majestic.”
 CHAPTER THREE

“It’s what?” Devol asked as the light faded from the sword.
“You’ve never heard of a majestic?” Vaust asked as he approached him.
“Given your talent with Mana, I assumed you’d had some training… Well,
that and the blade itself.”
“Oh yes, I have.” He lowered his sword and focused on the mori. “My
mom taught me the basics of Mana, but this isn’t anything like what I’ve seen
someone use before—at least outside some of my father’s comrades, and
even they don’t talk to me much.” He looked at the weapon again and slid his
hand over the flat surface of the blade. “And as I said, I’ve never seen this
before it appeared a few weeks ago.”
The man considered this as he stared absently into the trees. “I suppose
there is still something of a stigma attached to them in this realm.” He
focused on his young companion again. “So you discovered this blade—
which appeared magically out of nowhere in a time of need—and your first
instinct was to go on an adventure to the Templar Order?”
Devol slipped his pack off. “It wasn’t my idea, to be honest,” he said as
he rummaged through his belongings. “My parents suggested I go to the
Templars and said it was important.” He took the folded map out and handed
it to the mori. “They said a friend of my father’s gave this to him around the
time I was born and after they had done a mission together or something like
that. He said that if anything odd happens or they need a favor, to search
them out.”
“Well, this certainly qualifies.” Vaust took the paper, opened it, and
glanced casually at the map until something caught his eye. He frowned
slightly as he registered a symbol on the bottom of the page that depicted a
nine-pointed star. “This is…” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Indeed, I
most certainly see…” He folded the map again and handed it to him. “Tell
me, Templar-hopeful. What do you hope to achieve once you reach the
order?”
“Achieve?” the boy asked as he slid the map into his pack, flipped the top
over, and tied it down. His face contorted in thought while his fingers were
busy. “I…uh, I guess to learn more about this sword—or majestic, right?” He
slung his backpack on. “Maybe get some more training in arms and things
like that.”
“You have no desire to join the order?” the mori asked.
“I don’t know much about it,” Devol admitted and shrugged as if joining
the order was a decision he could make later when he did know. “My father
told me what he could. He said that at one point when he was young, he
wanted to join the Templars. But even with that, he did not know much. He
seems to trust his old friend, though, and said that this would be for the best
and that I should trust their instruction.”
“It depends on the instructor,” his companion muttered. Although he’d
spoken to himself, the boy's sharp ears caught it.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
The man gestured vaguely. “It’s merely my personal biases. Tell me,
young man, would you like some company to their keep?”
He raised an eyebrow quizzically. “With who?”
Vaust rolled his eyes. “With me, obviously.”
“Really?” He gasped. “I thought you said you were this forest’s
groundskeeper?”
Vaust was sorely tempted to slap either himself or the boy. “That was
something of a metaphor. I was here on a mission to keep the forest relatively
clear. There isn’t much a single man can do about that, in all honesty, but I
was entrusted to eliminate anything too dangerous.” He approached the dead
flayer and retrieved a large sack and a dagger. “With that done, I have to
return to Fairwind, where I was given the task.”
“Oh, so you’re heading that way?” he asked with a smile. “That would be
very helpful. I’ve made the trek alone, for the most part, but it would be nice
to have company for the rest of the journey.”
“Agreed.” The mori severed the head of the flayer and shoved it into the
sack, which he tied to his belt. “We can probably be there by tomorrow if we
hurry.”
 “Do you know a quick way out of this forest?” Devol inquired and looked
around dubiously. “To be honest, I don’t think we’re even that far in and I
feel a little disoriented.”
“A skill to work on, then,” the man reasoned and drew his hood over his
head. “Later, though. I do know the way out of the forest, but we still have
much ground to cover today.” He hopped a few times and the boy noted that
he had kept his Mana flowing the whole time. “I wonder if you can keep up.”
Devol smiled and let his Mana flow a little. “Back in Monleans, I was the
best user of Vis amongst all the kids, even the older ones.” He hopped a few
times as well to loosen his limbs and muscles. “Show me what you can do.”
“All right.” Vaust spoke from behind him and he spun in alarm. The mori
had seemingly teleported and now laughed at his reaction. “Sorry. I was
merely having a little fun.” He walked a few paces ahead toward the edge of
the clearing. “It shouldn’t take us very long to get out and from there, I’ll let
you set the pace. I’ll do so until then.” He looked over his shoulder, his face
shadowed by the hood. “Let us see how much you can push yourself.”
He composed himself and responded with a challenging grin. “Let’s go!”

The mori made good on his promise and they were out of the forest in no
more than ten minutes. Devol kept pace but it had been a long time since he
had been pushed this hard and he almost lost sight of his guide a couple of
times before they stepped beyond the tree line. Not since his races with his
father—the serious ones, at least—had he felt so winded. Once they were a
few miles out, Vaust stopped to let him catch his breath. They then plotted a
course that would be almost a straight line to Fairwind and set off with the
boy leading the way.
After several hours of travel, his companion noticed a cave and they
decided to make camp. After a good rest, they could start early and possibly
reach the town before noon the next day.
They split up to prepare their camp. Devol cleaned the area, made a fire,
and fetched water from a nearby spring while his companion went to hunt
their dinner. They both finished their respective tasks in under an hour and
soon feasted on a young boar the mori had killed, along with some berries
and nuts. He chose the ribs and flanks of the beast while Vaust seemed to
prefer other parts of the animal such as the eyes, cheeks, and even a few
pieces that made him somewhat skeptical as to whether an average person
should eat them.
Either out of curiosity or the desire for conversation, the mori decided to
question him. “So, Devol, tell me,” he began and leaned back while he held a
piece of boar cheek between his fingers. “How much do you know about
Mana?”
He finished chewing a large mouthful of boar flank and considered the
question thoughtfully. “I think…a fair amount. My mom has a degree in the
arts of Mana, and she has taught me ever since I was a toddler.”
Vaust nodded slowly, picked up the gourd next to him, and removed the
stopper. “So how would you define it?”
Devol took another bite of his food and tapped his chin as he thought.
“My mother usually said that it is the ‘second blood’ of the Magi. It flows
like a river through you, one that you control. It is crucial to think of it as an
essential part of you, not as something to perform silly party tricks with.”
His companion chuckled, finished the meat hanging between his fingers,
and swallowed some of the liquid from the gourd before he straightened.
“Believe it or not, Devol, if you have taken your mother’s words to heart, you
are already far more prepared for the life of a Magi than most.”
“So you think the same way, Mr. Lebatt?” he asked.
The mori shrugged and sipped his water. “It is not how I would put it, but
your mother’s advice is similar.”
The boy finished the flank and placed the bone beside him. “Then how do
you think of Mana?”
Vaust shrugged. “I could speak for quite some time on that subject, but
we need to rest soon and I don’t wish to bore you. I would put it simply like
this…” He held a hand out and formed a ball that hovered slightly above his
palm. It was a white core of light surrounded by a red shell. Devol had never
seen Mana like that and was enchanted.
“In the realms,” the mori continued, “Mana is the birthright of all who
live in them, but that does not mean all truly understand the gift we possess.”
The orb grew in size and changed from the shape of a single grape to that of a
cantaloupe. “To most, it is simply power—energy, or as your mother put it,
something to perform silly tricks with. But a true Magi knows better.” The
orb changed shape and took on a humanoid form before details etched
themselves in quickly and it looked like a miniature rendering of Vaust
himself. “A true Magi knows that Mana is the essence of their spirit.”
“Oh…” was the only response the boy could make, still focused on the
image in his companion’s hand, before the man snapped his hand shut and
the vision disappeared. “Wha— Hey, can you teach me how to do that?”
The mori clasped his hands together and hung them over his knees. “Do
you want to learn a silly trick or something more?”
He felt a little sheepish and he scratched his cheek and looked away in
embarrassment. “Let’s go with something more. Although it would still be
nice to have a few tricks in case I ever need one.”
Vaust laughed. “I’ll admit, I don’t disagree.” He studied him again. “To
continue, are you familiar with the trinity of Mana disciplines?”
Devol nodded vigorously. “Oh yes.” He leaned back on one hand and
held the other out to count by raising his fingers in turn. “There’s Vis, Vita,
and Vello.”
“Indeed. And what are the meanings behind them?”
The boy held his first finger up. “Vis is using Mana to enhance your
body, which will enable you to be stronger and faster and able to endure
more, things like that.”
“Increasing your natural stamina,” Vaust summarized and pointed at him.
“Don’t forget that if you focus only on adding power to your strength, you
won’t be able to strengthen your power.”
“Right!” He nodded and now held two fingers up. “Vita is the ability to
control the flow of your Mana so you don’t expend more than is necessary.”
“Correct,” the mori agreed and held two of his fingers up. “It’s not the
most dramatic discipline but an important one, nonetheless.” He held a third
up. “And the last?”
Devol mirrored him with three fingers. “The last is Vello, the ability to
transfer Mana, which enables you to cast cantrips and even strengthen or
control simple objects.”
“They don’t necessarily have to be simple.” Vaust clarified and lowered
his hand. “But it’s a good way to learn it. And a quick check—are you
familiar with cantrips?”
He raised a hand and tilted it from side to side. “I know of them,
obviously—like the bolt cantrip you did in the forest to create an arrow from
Mana and solidify it. They are simple spells that many Magi learn over their
years of training and include the basics that almost anyone can use and those
that fall into different classes. But for me…well, they aren’t one of my
stronger abilities. My mother is very skilled, though.”
“There is no shame in that. It comes easier to some rather than others,”
his companion said to reassure him and placed a hand on his chest. “The mori
are taught cantrips from a very young age and have much more time than
humans to learn them.”
“I’ve heard that the mori are some of the most gifted Magi among all the
realmers,” Devol stated.
Vaust smiled. “That is true, something many hold in high regard,
although the angeli would argue that point.”
The boy looked at him, his curiosity piqued. “I’m sorry, who?”
The man waved a hand. “Nothing to be concerned about now.” He rested
his arm on his leg while his other hand stroked his chin. “I have to say, you
are very well taught for your age.”
Devol nodded and smiled. “See, I told you I know a lot.”
“You certainly have the basics,” his companion replied and raised an
eyebrow. “Now, what about Anima?”
“Hmm?” He hesitated and his face fell. “Anima? I don’t think I’ve heard
about that. Is it a mori specialty?”
“Not quite. It’s more of an advanced discipline,” Vaust clarified, pushed
to his feet, and stretched. “Since we’re now well-fed, come with me for a
moment, would you?”
“Um…sure, okay.” He stood and followed him out of the cave. They
walked in silence onto the wide plain under the night sky.
“Would you like to see that something more I told you about?” the mori
asked and turned to him after they had wandered a few yards away from the
cave. He pointed past him. “Move a few feet away.”
The boy complied and turned toward him as his companion held his arms
apart. “You may wish to brace yourself,” he warned and drew a sharp breath
before Devol noticed a red shimmer around his body, one that promptly
exploded outward. It raced through the young Magi and made him feel like
he would be thrown back dozens of yards or lifted off his feet.
In an instant, it was gone, but he could still feel a heaviness in the air that
was almost tangible. It seemed like he could barely move his arms or legs. He
looked at Vaust and frowned at the faint red shimmer that faded quickly—or,
rather, it looked like it was absorbed inside him.
“What is…going on?” he asked and struggled to remain standing.
“This is my Anima, Devol,” his companion explained as he continued to
stare at him.
“Anima?” the boy asked and panted from the pressure. “It feels so heavy.
What are you doing?”
The mori straightened. “You use your Mana to surround yourself like you
would with armor. It creates a field that makes it more tangible and easier to
use for protection and to access its power. That heaviness you feel is my
Anima suppressing your Mana.”
“Is that so?” he responded irritably as his breathing became weaker. “Do
you mind toning it down a little, please?”
“I could but I think it would be more useful if you did it yourself,” Vaust
countered.
Devol tried instinctively to adopt a questioning look, but he did not have
the best control over his muscles at the moment. “What do you mean?”
“I think you can manifest your Anima, my friend,” the man declared.
“From what I’ve seen so far, you’re almost there.”
The more tenacious part of him agreed that this was probably a good time
to try, but the more reasonable side asked, “Can I have a hint?”
“Certainly. In fact, I’m giving you a big one at this moment.” Vaust
pointed to him. “There are several ways for young Magi to first manifest their
Anima.” The boy wasn’t sure if it was a tease or purely happenstance, but he
held three fingers up as he had before. “Through specific training, breathing
exercises, working on your Vita discipline, and things like that, although that
takes a long while and we don’t have time for that.” He lowered one finger.
“Another is to force it, which isn’t recommended. Even in the best
circumstances, it usually causes great pain and stress to the Magi.”
“This doesn’t count?” Devol asked.
Vaust shook his head and an amused grin spread across his face as he
lowered his second-to-last finger. “The last one is to coax it out. It’s
somewhat tricky compared to the other two, but this is one of the more
standard ways,” he explained. “Even in the few hours I’ve spent with you,
Devol, I can see you are gifted. Either that or you’re the product of good
training, but there is a limit to how far that will take you.”
“I assume there is a flight or fight factor here?” he asked and used his
Mana to access the strength to stand taller.
“Of course.” The mori chuckled and stared a challenge at him. “But what
you are doing—able to use Vis even under these circumstances—tells me you
are at the door, Devol. Just open it!”
 “And how do I do that?” he demanded.
“Like we’ve discussed, Mana is your ‘second blood’—your ‘spirit’,”
Vaust reminded him. “It is the manifestation of your life and will and you
have to draw it out.” He clapped sharply. “Focus and bring it all together
within you, then let it pour out—but don’t let it consume you. Your mother
compared Mana to a river, correct?” Devol nodded. “Then expand it into an
ocean and form a tidal wave.”
The boy balled his fists and lowered his arms to his sides. He focused on
his heart, a trick his mother had taught him—to think of his heart as the
center point of his Mana and its home. Even in dire times, being able to
remember that would keep him calm. He could feel it pooling and let it
coalesce into one point as he battled against his companion’s Anima. It was
something he had never tried before. He’d spent all his time focusing on
manipulating and making the Mana flow that he never understood what it felt
like to bring it all together. The comparison to an ocean was apt.
Now, he would release it.
With a determined cry, Devol let his Mana explode outward. It instantly
filled his entire body before it pushed through to include the outside of his
skin and the air around him. He suddenly felt light. His sight also seemed to
improve and the night was no longer so dark. The pressure of Vaust’s Anima
was pushed back and a white glow surrounded him with the edges tinted
silver.
“There you go,” the mori said too quietly for him to hear as he was too
preoccupied with the new experience to pay attention to anything else. The
man noticed the silver glimmer around the edges of the boy's Anima. All
Mana was white with a color strain that was unique to the user. Scholars and
philosophers alike had debated the significance of these colors. Were they an
indication of the person’s personality? Or were they developed over time and
based on experiences? Mana was a gift from the Astrals, so was it connected
to them somehow?
Vaust had never paid too much mind to that. He preferred results and
absolutes and wading into a debate that had lasted for centuries seemed a
waste of time, even for a long-lived mori. But he did note the silver color of
Devol’s Mana. That was unique. In fact, he had only seen it in one other
person. His thoughts returned to the symbol he had seen on the map, the
insignia of the only man with silver Mana.
He observed the boy, whose face lit up as he began to move freely again
and stared at the Anima he had produced. The mori saw wonder in him that
he had not seen in a long time. It was a shame. A boy like this did not deserve
to live a life believing a lie.
 CHAPTER FOUR

“Mr. Lebatt, I did it!” Devol shouted and raised his arms ecstatically.
“Indeed you did,” Vaust agreed. “But you shouldn’t get comfortable.
You’ll pass out if you keep going like that.”
The boy’s face fell into a small frown. “Huh?” Now that he thought about
it, despite his newfound lightness and jubilation, he felt a tad off.
“You’ve brought your Anima out, but it’s now pouring out of you,” his
companion explained and approached him. “You need to rein it in.
Otherwise, you’ll pass out from Mana depletion and perhaps even die if you
pour too much out.”
“Well, that would certainly bring the mood down.” He sighed in
exasperation, stood tall, and exhaled a long breath before he focused on
himself again. Vaust stopped in his tracks. He had intended to explain to him
what he needed to do but was now curious as to whether the boy could
correct it himself.
Devol closed his eyes and began to pull his Mana in a little. It felt
different than usual and Anima made it seem more tangible. He inhaled
slowly, focused on his heart again, and reeled the Mana in. When he opened
one eye slightly, the colorful light around him faded and shrank slowly. It
looked like his attempt was working. He noticed Vaust observing him—
surely he would say something if he was doing something wrong? Then
again, he seemed to be a very trial-by-fire type of teacher, so maybe he
should not depend on that possibility.
The Anima continued to shrink but it did not weaken. It continued to
surround him and more importantly, he could again feel his companion’s
being held at bay. But when he recognized this, he thought of something else.
If pushing his Anima out like this was a risk to him and Vaust’s felt so much
more powerful, he did not seem concerned at all. The thought was intriguing
but it was probably best to not dwell on that.
After he decreased the expanse of his Anima to the point where it felt like
it only surrounded his immediate area, he opened his eyes fully and shook his
joints to test them. He still felt good and remained strong. The last time he
had experienced something this exciting was the first time he had properly
accomplished Vis. He looked at Vaust, who nodded in approval.
“Congratulations. You successfully used Vita in combination with
Anima.”
“Is that tricky or something?” Devol asked, his gaze focused on the taller
Magi.
His companion nodded. “Certainly more so than simply using it with
Mana. It is a useful skill, as when your Anima is out you are protected and
stronger. But, as you felt for yourself, it tends to draw attention. Being able to
use Vita to control your Anima so that you don’t overuse it and even to hide
it in certain situations is quite useful.”
“Oh, okay.” He nodded and held his fists up. “So I can use Vis and Vello
in combination with Anima as well?”
“Indeed you can, although it will take a while to get used to it.” The mori
folded his arms. “We have a little more time. I can show you something a
little more practical if you like.”
“Sure,” Devol agreed and placed his fists together. “I’m ready.”
Vaust grinned and extended an arm toward the cave. “I hope so.” An
object hurtled toward him from within their shelter and he caught it in his
open hand.
The boy watched as he unwrapped a black cloth from around the item and
stared when he held something up in the moonlight. It appeared to be a
weapon of some kind with a curved blade of darkened metal and a zig-zag
pattern embossed on either side of the blade. It was attached to a black rod a
little longer than Devol’s arm, and golden rings jingled at the bottom where
white leather binding acted as a handle.
“What is that?” he asked as he admired it. The metal glittered both
hauntingly and beautifully under the moonlight.
The mori slipped his fingers into the rings at the bottom of the weapon
and spun it a few times. “This is a kama,” he stated, flipped it, and snatched it
by the handle. “Or, rather, that is what the weapon is called. This is my
majestic.”
“You have one too?” he asked.
His companion nodded “This one was passed down to me when I earned
the rank of archon in my realm. I kept it after I departed as a…keepsake.”
“They are special, right? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing one simply
gives away.”
“I didn’t mention it when I left.” Vaust chuckled and rested the kama on
his shoulder. “So, what do you know about exotics?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one,” Devol said. “Exotics are weapons that are made
with special materials and magical enhancements like runes and incantations.
There are different types and varieties and each has a unique property that
can be accessed by trained Magi. My father has a very special one, and all the
guardsman get an exotic gladius as recruits—or one of three or four other
weapons.”
“Correct again,” the elder Magi affirmed. “But even the rarest and most
powerful of exotics can pale in comparison to majestics. With exotics, almost
anyone can use one and the user will imbue it with Mana as an energy source.
The majestic is connected to the user themselves and not everyone is capable
of wielding one. In fact, it can be rather dangerous for someone who cannot
resonate with a majestic to use it.”
“So my sword is connected to me?” he asked. “What does that mean,
exactly?”
“It means you need to be careful,” Vaust warned and his tone grew more
serious. “Majestics are more than the weapons or objects they appear to be.
They are powerful and very few weapons can survive even a clash with one.
But should they become damaged, they will injure their users as well.”
“What?” He gasped and wished he had known that before setting off.
Without a doubt, he would have brought an extra sword to use instead.
The Magi began to twirl his kama. “It’s something to keep in mind. But
each majestic also has a unique power—one that even the greatest Magi
cannot learn or bring forth themselves, although many have tried.”
“Can you tell what mine does?” the curious boy asked.
Vaust shook his head. “Not without a demonstration. Although I’m sure
someone at the order can answer those questions.” He rested the kama against
his shoulder. “We could keep talking but I assume you prefer a
demonstration?”
Devol’s eyes lit up. “You’re right!” He extended his arm toward the cave
and within seconds, the sword that seemed to have chosen him so
mysteriously streaked into his hand.
“Impressive Vello control,” the Mori said and tapped the base of his
kama. “But I didn’t intend for us to spar.”
“You didn’t?” he asked, having already partially unsheathed the blade.
His companion chuckled. “If you wish to, we can.” He pointed his
weapon toward the boy. “But understand that there is a limit to how much I
can hold back. Myazma is only so tame.”
“Myazma?” He looked at the kama. “You named your weapon?”
“Technically, I renamed it. The original name was from an old mori
tongue and translating it was more along the lines of a poem than a real
name. I searched through the common tongue and this seemed more fitting.”
He turned the weapon to the side as he and his young opponent locked gazes.
“Are you ready?”
Devol held the sword in both hands and drew a deep breath as he
assumed a battle stance. Even with Vaust’s warning, the thrill of combat was
overtaking him. “When you are.”
The mori nodded, unmoving. “Very well. Come at me.”
His Mana flared and when his Anima enhanced it, he felt stronger and
faster than he could have imagined. Common sense reminded him that he
should probably steady himself. If he tried to attack without understanding
his new power, he could launch himself into one of the rocks in the distance.
He lowered slightly and moved his blade to the side before he surged forward
and launched himself at his opponent with a challenging shout.
Vaust did not move, but as the boy’s blade swung, he retaliated with his
kama. Their blades clashed and Devol stopped several yards behind the mori.
He spun, as did his companion, who twirled his weapon casually at his side.
With a bewildered frown, he caught a glimmer from his blade. It had seemed
like his adversary had merely parried the blow, but when he turned and
looked down, his vision blurred slightly. Confused, he shook his head and
stared at what looked like a long black mark sliced into his blade.
He paused to examine it. What had happened and how was it possible? It
must have come from the mori’s weapon. He held his sword a little higher
but his head began to swirl. Was he getting sick? He had been fine a moment
before. Then, he began to cough and fell to one knee as he sputtered.
“So, point proven, then?” Vaust called as he examined the boy’s reaction.
Devol grunted and his Mana flared as he pushed to his feet, once again
prepared to strike, even with a broken blade. “Neat trick,” he responded. “I
don’t suppose you will tell me how you did it?”
“You’ve proven you can be smart,” his adversary pointed out, flipped his
kama, and caught it by the handle. “Where would the fun be if I simply
spelled it out for you?”
“Then I won’t stop until I work it out,” he declared and surged toward the
older Magi.
“Doing the wrong thing repeatedly…” Vaust sighed and readied himself
to counter. But before the attack completed, the boy suddenly stopped his
charge, slid along the grass, and kicked dirt into his eyes to obscure his
vision. Momentarily surprised, he almost missed a bright flash from above as
the young swordsman vaulted upward, ready to strike. He leaned back as the
weapon arced and the blade narrowly missed his chest.
Startled, he jumped back and scowled at a small cut on the lapel of his
jacket. If he had not cut through the other blade, that could have been a clean
strike.
“Well done, Devol,” the mori complimented and his eyes widened when
the boy barreled toward him.
“I’m not done!” he shouted and prepared to thrust with the blade before
another coughing fit slowed his approach.
Vaust almost laughed. He had to concede that the youngster had tenacity,
but it was getting late and the point of setting up camp was to rest. “Yes, you
are,” he responded, flipped his kama again, and took one step back. The
attack slashed at nothing but air and he brought his weapon down on the back
of the young swordmaster’s head to knock him into unconsciousness. “For
the night at least.”

Devol awoke to birds chirping and the smell of the meadow. He rubbed the
back of his head where a dull pain nagged at him as he glanced to where
Vaust strode in through the cave entrance. The Magi offered him
honeycombs and more berries.
“Good morning.” The older Magi greeted him cheerfully and pointed
behind him to where his sword was sheathed not far away. “Don’t forget
that.”
 The previous night’s events rushed back to him and he sighed and
continued to rub his head. “I guess I didn’t win, huh?”
“You did well, especially since it was your first time using Anima and
your weapon was slightly damaged.” The man showed him the nick on his
jacket as he popped a few red berries into his mouth. “It’s not like you have
been trained in how to correctly use a majestic. It is a sword and
swordsmanship is important, but it is more than merely a pointy stick.”
“So you won’t tell me what happened?” he asked around some of the
honeycomb. “I don’t know what your majestic is able to do but I don’t fall ill
like that. I haven’t had to see a doctor in two years.”
“A robust constitution.” His companion selected a few berries and popped
them into his mouth. “If you had used a regular weapon or even a lower
quality exotic, it would have been rendered useless. Your majestic endured
but that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be ill effects.”
“So that’s a no,” Devol mumbled and retrieved his blade. He unsheathed
it halfway and looked for the black mark, but it was no longer there. “So it
must have been the power of your majestic, then?”
Vaust poured a little water into his tin cup and sipped it. “An accurate
guess,” he remarked. “And no, I won’t explain it yet.”
“Why not?” he asked with an edge of impatience in his tone.
“It’s simple.” He looked the boy dead in the eye. “As I said, all majestics
are unique. I’m not saying you will run into another who has one, but should
you ever run into an enemy or hostile Magi and are forced to deal with them,
do you think they will simply explain the fine points of their abilities?”
A little angry at that response, he ate a few berries and looked away from
the mori’s gaze. “I suppose they wouldn’t,” he admitted finally as he chewed.
“Smart boy.” Vaust chuckled. “Neither you nor I know what the future
holds. I don’t know if you’ll stay with the Templars or lead a life that brings
you into confrontation with other Magi. But if there is even a tiny part in you
that is considering it…well, it’s best to be prepared, is it not?”
Devol swallowed his food, sighed, and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll work
on it.”
“You should do that for you, not me,” his companion stated, finished his
meal, and began to pack. “Come on, we’re a little behind because I let you
sleep, but we can still get to Fairwind shortly before noon if we hurry.”
At this announcement, the boy all but inhaled the remainder of the fruits
Vaust had brought and packed his belongings. He slid the other end of his
blade into the side pocket of his satchel. The mori glanced at him and
considered the advice he’d given him. He hoped he’d choose a life where he
could use his abilities for good. The life of a Magi was dangerous, but it was
better to pursue it and be prepared for it than have it come for you.
And if he was right, the boy would not have much of a choice.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Devol smiled as the cool breeze blew in from the sea. They were close to
their destination and Fairwind already lived up to its name. He and Vaust had
covered dozens of yards in seconds and sprinted to the village. He grew ever
more excited and briefly surpassed the mori’s speed as they crested a hill.
He paused on top of the hill and looked out with the sun shining on him.
The settlement might not have been one of the major cities of the kingdom,
but it was one of the most prosperous fishing and shipping ports in the world.
Looking at it, even from afar, was enough to confirm that.
It was a village not of tall buildings but vast ones. Large storehouses for
fish, tools, ship parts, and more to maintain the workflow and valuables of
the village stood alongside equally large dock houses for the numerous ships
being built, repaired, or coming in with goods for the market. Most of these
clustered around the docks, a vast network of buildings where he could see at
least a few hundred men and women going about their busy workday.
Behind the docks, a grid-based collection of streets were paved in rough
blue, white, and gray cobblestones. Each thoroughfare was lined with tailors,
restaurants, blacksmiths, and other shops ready to serve the populace and
visitors passing through.
Devol clasped his hands behind his head and continued to admire the
view as Vaust walked up beside him. “We made it.” He beamed and looked
at his traveling companion. “Do you think we can find something to eat
before we go to the order?”
“That would not be a bad idea,” the mori agreed and studied the scene
below as he removed the stopper from his gourd. “The seafood is fresh here,
and I know of a few restaurants of great repute you would probably enjoy.”
 “Sounds good!” the boy exclaimed and scanned the village again in
search of buildings that stood out. “So which one of those buildings houses
the order?”
“None of them,” his companion stated and drank thirstily. Devol lowered
his arms in confusion as he looked at him. The Magi glanced casually at him
as he put the gourd away. “Why so surprised?”
“But the map said…and you said…” He fumbled for words and tried to
decide if this was a trick or not.
“Ah, yes, the map.” Vaust smiled and placed a finger on his chin. “You
might want to have another look at that.”
Devol whipped his satchel off, opened it, and dug the map out. He
unfolded it and examined it quickly. “Look at the line—it leads right to
Fairwind!” he said, almost shoved the parchment in his companion’s face,
and pointed to the emblem marked Fairwind.
The mori took it and turned so they could both study it. “Right up to it,”
he corrected and pointed to the line that stopped at the edge of the town. The
boy leaned closer to study the mark. Although it seemed to lead to Fairwind,
a small divot off to the side of it seemingly pointed to the east of the village.
“I considered simply making you search for it to see how long it would take
you to realize your mistake.” He folded the map and returned it. “But we’ll
already have to waste time as it is.”
“Then…if it’s supposed to be that way…” He turned his head to look at
the other side of the hill but saw only a large formation of stones down the
slope and much farther in the distance, a large group of trees before the plains
stretched on for miles again. “There’s nothing there!”
“At first glance, no,” Vaust agreed and set off down the hill toward the
town. “Are you coming?”
“Where are you going?” Devol demanded.
His companion pointed toward the settlement. “Fairwind. I thought you
were hungry.”
“I want to find the order first,” the boy stated and turned to walk toward
the stones on the other side of the hill.
The older Magi chuckled. “Rather capricious, aren’t you?” He turned to
follow the boy, who leapt on top of one of the stones.
A large patch of dirt in the center of the ring of rocks made him even
more confused. “Maybe…” he mumbled, slid off the rock and onto the dirt,
and dropped to his hands and knees to search.
 Vaust walked around the side of the rocks and leaned against one as he
watched him scratch around. “What are you doing?”
“There has to be a secret hatch or something, surely?” Devol responded,
continuing to test the soil. “I’ll try the forest next, but if it was somewhere in
there, the line would have been more obvious.”
“A decent deduction,” the mori admitted and tapped the side of the rock.
“And while watching you scrabble in the dirt for an opening that isn’t there
might be amusing for a time, it would only be for a very short time. I will tell
you that you are in the right place but looking in the wrong area.”
He grunted in annoyance and settled on his knees to glare at his
companion before his eyes widened and he peered at the face of the rock
Vaust leaned against. The markings were faint, but he could see what
appeared to be etchings in the stone. He scrambled to his feet and moved
closer to examine them.
They seemed relatively simple—a large circle with three triangles, the
heads pointing in different directions, one up, one left, and one right, along
with large dots in the spaces between each triangle, and one under it. If there
were other markings, he could not see them due to how faded the etchings
were.
“It seems you’ve found something most interesting now, Devol,” the
older Magi said quietly and startled him when he stepped close beside him.
“Uh, yeah, I assume so.” He traced his fingers along the grooves. “They
look like some kind of symbol but I can barely make them out.”
“You wouldn’t be able to see them at all if it weren’t for the fact that
you’ve kept your Anima up the whole day,” Vaust told him.
Devol looked incredulously at the mori, then at his hands. Sure enough,
his Anima was still present, albeit at a much smaller scale. He had not meant
to maintain it but he felt almost no drain on his Mana. It lingered on him
almost like a subconscious thought.
His companion folded his arms and looked at him, his expression somber.
“I’ll keep this brief as we have another challenge awaiting us. As I explained,
the trinity has to do with the control and use of Anima and Mana. Anima
naturally enhances one’s abilities, including those that cannot be normally
targeted using Vis.” He pointed at his nose. “You seem like a curious boy,
Devol. Have you ever tried to increase your senses? Smell, taste, touch,
anything like that?”
He nodded. “A few times, I used Vis on my tongue to increase the taste of
a roast my mother made but all I accomplished was to bend the fork.” He
frowned at the slightly embarrassing story. “I tried other things like
increasing my hearing or smell to help at hide and seek but it never worked.”
Vaust nodded. “Using Mana to try to target such pinpoint areas isn’t an
easy task, even for experienced Magi, but Anima surrounds the body,
internally and externally, and makes this process easier.” He pointed toward
the etching. “Focus on those marks. You can barely make them out due to the
residual increase in abilities your Anima grants you. Now, increase your
Anima and focus on your sight.”
Devol drew a breath, straightened, and looked directly at the symbols as
he let his Mana pool in his eyes. In moments, the symbols became clearer
like the ages of dust that had made the markings fade began to blow away. As
they became more prominent, he could even see faint shimmers surrounding
them. “There’s Mana on the symbols!” he cried in surprise.
“Indeed,” the mori confirmed, his arms folded over his chest as he
watched him. “This is what is known as an anchor point.”
The boy remained focused on the sigils and the Mana that continued to
flow through them. “What are they?”
“It is in the name,” his companion told him, stood in front of the rock,
and held a hand out. “Since you told me as much, your familiarity with the
other realms is rather limited. But I’m sure you’ve wondered at least once
how one travels from one realm to another.” He balled his hand into a fist and
placed it at the center of the point, and the symbols began to glow red. “There
are a few ways to do it, but anchor points are the most prominent, at least in
your realm.”
Devol watched in fascination as the triangle pointing upwards glowed
brighter than the others. A faint image appeared above the mori and displayed
what appeared to be a city floating above orange clouds. The man began to
rotate his fist to the right and the bright glow moved to the right dot between
the triangles. The image changed to an ornate-looking house that stood on a
hill of purple grass. “They can also be used to travel to individual dimensions
—rifts as some call them—that are created by Magi for their personal use,
although most are protected by wards that can only be accessed by them or
with their permission.”
Vaust continued to turn his fist and the glow moved to the right triangle.
This time, a lone tower appeared, backdropped by a sky of black and dark
purple and surrounded by what appeared to be a forest of blackened trees
with white lights or leaves covering them. “This leads to my home realm,
Avadon.” The mori chuckled and continued to move his fist until it pointed to
the single large dot at the bottom.
An image of a large castle appeared, seemingly on top of a mountain or
other rocky area. It gleamed white with a large drawbridge drawn up, and
fires burned on the tops of two large spires on either side. “And this is the
domain of the Templars.”
“This is their hall?” Devol asked with a grin. He had made it. Thoughts
raced through his mind. What he would say when he finally met one of the
Templars and from there, what would he do? He had come to get help and
training, but after that, could there be more?
“It is,” the older Magi stated and moved his fist away from the rock. The
picture vanished as the symbols lost their red glow. “I hope you get to see it
soon.”
“Wait. What?” the boy shouted and leaned closer to the symbols. “What
happened?”
“I closed the gate. It should have been obvious,” Vaust said flatly and
strode out of the rock formation.
“But why?” he asked as he followed. “I came here for the order.”
“I’m quite aware,” the mori acknowledged and registered the impatience
in the boy, which reminded him how young he was. “Think about it like this.
If you and I had not met, how long would it have taken until you noticed your
error with the map?” He spun and stared at him. “Would you have been able
to decipher the instructions on the side of the map that explained the
anchors?”
Devol stopped in his tracks. Instructions? He swung his satchel in front of
him, fished the map out again, and studied it. After a moment, he noticed a
small diagram on the left edge which included the symbols he had seen on
the rock with the bottom dot circled. “Oh, how did I miss that?”
“You are determined but somewhat narrow-minded. That would be my
guess,” Vaust responded calmly and began to roll his right sleeve up. “I can
appreciate your willingness to seek the Templars out and learn things for
yourself. But you are young, and if this is what you want to do, you need to
mature, Devol.”
The young Magi wanted to retaliate against the veiled insult, but he had
to admit that he was right. He simply nodded and awaited the mori’s next
words.
 When his companion had finished rolling his sleeve, he glanced at the
rock with the anchor. “As it stands, this is your first challenge to becoming a
Templar—setting foot in their realm.”
“So you want me to open the anchor myself?” Devol asked, folded his
arms, and sighed. “Well…fair enough. You are right. I would probably have
spent days discovering this on my own even when I got here. But I have to
ask why you would try to test me at this point?”
“That’s simple. I care about the reputation of the order,” Vaust explained
and showed him the underside of his arm. A golden tattoo of a circular shield
inlaid with a triangle set with an inverted eye met his curious gaze. “After all,
those who join the ranks would be my brothers-in-arms as well.”
 CHAPTER SIX

“Uh, sir. We have another customer,” the hostess of the famous Fairwind
seafood restaurant, Azure Oasis, notified her superior.
The head Manager frowned. “Then why are you talking to me, Melony?
You are the hostess for the day. Go and host.”
“Well, the gentleman isn’t exactly dressed to our standards,” she said
smartly, pulled back the curtain that blocked the entrance of the room, and
peeked outside again. “And to be frank, sir, something seems a little off about
him.”
“Is he causing a ruckus?” he asked, stood from his desk, and strode to his
office exit.
“Not exactly, sir,” she admitted. “But if you could deal with him, I would
be most grateful.”
He sighed. “Fine. Everyone deserves a favor now and then.” He pushed
the curtain aside and stepped through to the main dining area, walking
carefully on the dark-blue carpet to the white marbled floors that lead to the
entrance. The hostess followed. When he reached the front, he looked around.
“Now, where is this…oh.”
It was very easy to see which of the few waiting diners the hostess was
concerned about. The man was dressed in dark garb—not entirely unusual as
gentleman usually preferred darker colors for their formal dress—but his
clothes were far from formal, especially the cloak and hood.
He took a few steps closer to the dark figure. “Can I help you, sir?” he
asked, his arms folded and chest out—not exactly a posture that suggested a
willingness to be of service.
“I should hope so,” the man replied. When the manager noticed that
under his hood, a cloth hid the patron’s mouth and dark glasses obscured his
eyes, he began to feel a little on edge. “I was looking to acquire some food.
I’ve heard your restaurant has some of the best fish in Fairwind—particularly
high praise in a fishing village.”
“Well, you’ve heard right,” he stated and relaxed somewhat. The man
didn’t seem to be there to cause problems. “But this is a fine dining
establishment, and with that comes a few rules—”
“Oh, no need to worry. I’m not hoping to dine in,” the man explained and
slid his hand under his cloak. At that, both the manager and hostess tensed
cautiously but the concern eased again when he withdrew a piece of paper
and a small red pouch. “If you could prepare these items for me, I’ll be on my
way.”
He took the paper and bag and heard a jingle. The hostess stepped
alongside him. “We don’t allow food to be taken away. You have to have—”
“Hush, Melony!” her superior ordered and she looked at him in confusion
before she realized that he had opened the pouch to reveal a rather sizeable,
glittering cobalt. He looked at the would-be patron with a large smile. “Of
course, sir. We shall do our best to have it ready as quickly as possible.
Would you like coffee or a glass of wine while you wait?”
“A glass of wine would be lovely.” Vaust nodded and sat on one of the
benches near the front door. “Take all the time you need. I have some time to
kill.”

The mori carried his order on his back in a rather large bag generously
provided by the Azure Oasis staff. He left Fairwind and strode up the hill to
the field beside the stone formation. When he drew close, he sensed a flare of
Mana behind the rocks. A loud shout followed before a crack preceded a
body being flung back and skidding on the dirt. He sighed, placed the bag
down, and retrieved one of the containers of water before he advanced.
His young companion sprawled ignominiously in the dirt and groaned in
pain as he rolled from side to side. Vaust opened the top of the pitcher,
splashed a little onto him, and frowned when a slice of cucumber plopped
onto his cheek. Devol coughed and shook his head. The older Magi looked
inside the container. “Oh, cucumber water,” he commented and took a sip.
“Quite refreshing.”
With a grimace, the boy shifted so he could lean back against the rock
behind him. Water dripped off his hair. “You got the food already?”
“You’ve been at this for a few hours now,” he pointed out and set the
pitcher down. “A couple of questions. First, how does it feel that I can order
several courses worth of meals and bring it here before you were able to
discover how to activate an anchor when I did it right in front of you?”
Devol pursed his lips, looked away, and made no attempt to answer.
“Well then, second question. It’s more personal curiosity, to be honest.” He
looked at the anchor point and noticed another small pattern above the top
arrow in the shape of a rectangle with several smaller ones inside and stitched
together with lines. “Why did you think punching the anchor would get it to
work for you?”
The youngster rolled his head to look at him with weary eyes. “I was
merely eliminating all my options.”
“As you might have noticed, all you managed to do was trigger the
protective ward,” he retorted and indicated the rectangle that faded slowly.
“And you are lucky it is there. If you had managed to damage the anchor, be
it the symbols or rock, it would have simply made it deactivate.”
“The symbols or the rock? I thought the symbols were the anchor,” Devol
muttered and narrowed his eyes at the large stone. “That’s not simply a rock,
then?”
Vaust shook his head slowly. “No, that is not ‘simply a rock.’ If it were
that easy to make anchor points, they wouldn’t be so valuable.”
“A fair point.” Devol sighed, straightened a little, and rested his hands on
his knees as he stared at the symbols. “I wasn’t eliminating options. The truth
is that I got angry.”
The mori chuckled and offered him the pitcher. “It took a while but you
are honest, at least.”
With a self-deprecating grimace, the boy took it and drank some of the
water. “I tried doing the…oh, that is refreshing.” He took another gulp and
wiped his lips with his jacket sleeve. “I did exactly as you did, but the
symbols didn’t light up for me. Then I tried letting my Mana trickle in. That
got them to light up a little, but when I poured more in, nothing happened—
they didn’t even get brighter.”
He is close—or at least on the right track. This was not a test for him to
get into the Templars’ keep. He had said that purely as motivation. What he
was trying to do was get him to understand how much Anima enhanced the
trinity. He had hoped that he would catch on given that he had already seen
what Vis and Vita could do. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect that he would
come to the final conclusion on his own—what were the possibilities of
Vello?
But he imagined the boy was getting hungry and there was no use to
continue the training if he would pass out from hunger and exhaustion. He
stood, took a swig from his gourd, and went to retrieve the large bag of food.
In silence, he returned with it and placed it on the ground. He was about to
address his companion when he saw he had drawn his sword and now stared
at it. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m gonna try something,” Devol said, pushed to his feet, and
approached the symbol.
“You can have more time once you’ve eaten,” he told him and sat with
his legs crossed. While he was not exactly sure what the young Magi was
contemplating, he was fairly certain it would not work.
“What’s one of the differences between you and me?” the boy asked and
held his blade up.
“Well, there are so many,” Vaust responded as he undid the knot on the
bag. “Most aren’t kind—at least to you. I don’t think you need to bruise your
ego any further.”
Devol looked at him with an exaggerated frown. “Thanks for that,” he
muttered and turned toward the anchor. “But in this case, I thought the one
thing you have that I don’t is that you are used to your majestic.”
“That is one thing, certainly,” he agreed and selected a tin which he
opened to reveal herb-buttered salmon. “Are you sure you wouldn’t care for a
bite? One of the things your realm does better than mine is food, although
that may be due to the big difference in diet.”
The boy’s blade began to glow with the same white light as before and
Vaust was grateful that he still wore his shades in this enclosed area. It
seemed brighter than he remembered. “What are you doing?”
His companion did not answer and instead, placed the blade against the
rock. With that, his purpose suddenly became clear. He thought the majestic
acted something like a key and that one needed to have it on them or active to
open the anchor before they could control it. It wasn’t a bad train of thought,
but it was a futile one. After all, not every member of the order had a
majestic.
 He lifted a piece of fish to his lips to take a bite but a loud roar was
immediately followed by another burst of bright light. Vaust dropped the tin
and almost drew his kama as his eyes widened.
Devol now stood in front of an open gate. The image of the Templar
castle was visible on the other side of the large portal. He could feel the wind
from the mountains and the distant heat of the flames that adorned the hall
but did not understand how the boy had accomplished it. There was only one
way to control an anchor point.
The young Magi looked at him and beamed as he held his sword aloft. “It
looks like I passed the first test, eh, Mr. Lebatt?” he shouted victoriously.
The mori relaxed, moved his hand away from his weapon, and simply
gave the boy a nod. He had indeed passed his made-up test, although he
wanted to accuse him of cheating. Unfortunately, he was unsure of how he
did it.
Still smiling, his young companion ran toward him, placed the tin Vaust
had taken out into the bag, and tied it again. “We’ll bring this with us,” he
said happily as he shouldered it. “Maybe we have enough to share with your
Templar friends.” Oh, there would be, the mori realized caustically. He’d
bought enough to last three days for the two of them, convinced that this
would take at least that long.
He shrugged as the boy ran merrily through and chuckled at his
enthusiasm. Most first-time portal-users were incredibly hesitant to walk
through and he had no experience with them to his knowledge, yet he hurried
through with excitement rather than fear.
The older mage followed, stepped into the gateway, and made a note to
examine it when he returned. He had to know what Devol had done.
Although perhaps it would be better to simply watch the boy.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Devol took several cautious steps toward the Templar guildhall and studied it
curiously as the howling winds of the mountain pushed against him, although
it did little to slow his march to the gates. Vaust stopped in front of the portal
and watched him move closer to his destination.
As the gate closed behind him, the mori noted a small change in the boy.
He was still determined but he saw an apprehension in the young Magi,
whom he had only seen cycle through feelings of excitement, belligerence,
and curiosity. He seemed almost humbled at this moment as he approached
the gates but he did not falter.
His demeanor was reassuring. He had wondered if he would race merrily
toward the hall once he had arrived but this display, no matter how brief, did
show that a part of him understood the gravity of the situation ahead of him.
The young Magi reached the edge of the moat that surrounded the castle.
He stared down what was at least a fifty-yard drop into the chasm, and the
water looked deep. After a moment, he focused on the castle and studied it
more thoroughly. Even with the picture the portal had provided, he could not
have imagined its scale at the time. It was massive—well beyond any of the
halls he had known even in Monleans, where it was said that the hunter and
knight halls were the largest in the world. This eclipsed even them.
He counted seven spires in all, four at each corner of the castle and three
that were stationed in a triangular pattern and built into the center of the
façade. Numerous pennants fluttered over the front entrance, and he
recognized the green, white, and golden ones with the large tree and sun
emblem—those of Arkadia, the realm of humans, wildkin, and fleuri.
At the bottom of the banner were seven other insignias and one was a
sword pointing to the same sun emblem that adorned the insignia of his
realm. It was that of Renaissance, his kingdom. He was more than familiar
with it, given that he had seen his father in armor almost every day of his life,
where the emblem shone proudly on his chest plate.
The other icons were probably from the other kingdoms and meant to
show that this was a realm of seven kingdoms united together—although with
what he knew of history, that seemed to be a more noble goal than actual
reality. He turned his attention to the spires and noted the large bowls that sat
on top, each with a large fire that the wind from the mountain did nothing to
extinguish. In fact, it might have helped to keep them ablaze.
Slowly, he shifted his gaze to the gate in front of him. The large
drawbridge was raised, waiting to be lowered to invite visitors inside. In the
small space above the entrance and the bridge, large spikes provided hints of
a gate that could be used if the castle was ever attacked.
Devol released a long breath, placed the bag of food at his feet, and rested
his hands on his waist as he watched his companion approach. “Hey, Mr.
Lebatt?
“Yes, Devol?” the mori asked, stepped beside him, and let his gaze trace
the familiar structure. “It’s quite a sight, is it not?”
“Oh yeah, it’s amazing,” he replied but a questioning tone still lingered in
the compliment. “But I…”
Vaust looked at him in surprise. “Yes?”
He scratched his head a little sheepishly. “Is this another test?”
“Not one I’ve devised, why?”
The boy frowned and gestured at the castle. “Then shouldn’t the bridge
come down?” he asked and pointed at it. “You said you were a Templar too,
didn’t you?”
His companion frowned. “Yes, and I have to say you’ve taken that
information with rather less enthusiasm than I expected.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He smiled a little awkwardly like the thought
had only now occurred to him. “I thought it was a joke at first, and I was in a
foul mood at the time.” He looked at the bridge again. “But in that case, why
haven’t they lowered it? I know they don’t know who I am, but they should
lower it for you, right? Is there a password or call sign or something?”
Vaust chuckled. It was amusing to see him in the moments where his
knowledge and understanding gave way to childish myths and games. But he
did have a point. “Why yes, there is a password.” He opened one of the
pouches on his belt and retrieved a small purple crystal with a silver band
around it. “Give me a moment and you’ll hear it.”
Devol gaped as the crystal began to glow as Vaust raised it to his head. A
voice resonated in his mind. “Eh, who is it?” the speaker demanded and the
boy looked around to see where it was coming from.
“It’s me, you dullard,” his companion replied with mirth in his voice,
although his lips did not move. “Lower the bridge. Isn’t that your
responsibility? Am I interrupting a nap?”
“Vaust? Well now, you’re alive!” The man dissolved into laughter and
the boy now realized it was being emitted by the crystal. “It looks like I owe
Zier a splint now. But why are you all bothered? You were supposed to be
here yesterday.”
“I had an interesting meeting,” the mori explained with a smile at Devon.
“I’ve brought a visitor with me—a young Magi looking to meet the
Templars.”
“Is that so?” The man evidenced genuine curiosity in his tone. “We don’t
have many of those these days. Let me meet the little scamp.”
“Certainly. Let us in and you can do exactly that,” Vaust stated crisply.
“Aye, aye, I’m on it. Hold on a wee moment—been helping with the
smithy,” the man replied. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The mori nodded and lowered the crystal from its position close to his
lips.
“Who was that?” Devol asked as the glow in the gem faded before Vaust
stowed it in the pouch. “And what is that?”
“The crystal? You’ve never used an apperception stone?”
“Apperception?” He shook his head in confusion before his thoughts
came together and he realized what the crystal was and pointed at the satchel.
“Oh, an A-stone!” he shouted, shaking his head. “No, we mostly use
voxboxes to communicate. A-stones are expensive. My father has one but he
won’t even let me touch it, much less try to use it.”
“Oh, that’s right,” the mori conceded. “They are rather pricey in some
realms. As they were originally created in Avadon and the stones are rather
plentiful there as well, they are considerably cheaper. They work better for
our line of work than your voxboxes, so we each have one. They are one of
the few materials that can hold Mana.”
“Like cobalt?” he asked.
Vaust nodded. “Yes, although they are not nearly as valuable as they only
store rather small amounts, but they can hold dozens of different types of
Mana at the same time. So you merely need to connect your Mana with one
stored inside and you can communicate with that user.”
“Amazing.” Devol gasped, impressed and a little envious.
His companion nodded. “Should you decide to join us, I’ll make sure you
get one.”
“Truly?” The boy grinned. “That would be wonderful.”
“It’s something to consider. And as for who that was…” A loud clang
issued from the castle, and both looked up as the drawbridge began to lower.
“Well, it appears you are about to meet him.”
When it settled, a man appeared and the boy’s eyes widened. He was
certainly larger than any man he had ever encountered, easily over seven feet
with large shoulders with a span that was easily as wide as Devol’s body was
tall. A large blond beard was perfectly matched with long, unruly hair with
several braids woven into it.
He wore an eyepatch that did not quite cover a noticeable scar on his right
eye. The other showed a deep-set eye of a dark color and its gaze drifted from
Vaust to the visitor. His large arms folded, he strode across the bridge. He
wore a long brown jacket that reached his ankles, below which black boots
with metal tips were visible. Beneath the jacket, some kind of gray or dirty
silver armor could be seen when he moved but was mostly obscured by the
garment.
The wind whipped at the giant of a man and his jacket was tossed and
tugged at relentlessly, but his approach seemed unstoppable. The young Magi
stood a little straighter with his arms at his side.
“You don’t need to be so formal,” the mori told him and folded his arms
to mirror the man, who was now only a few yards away. “Despite
appearances, he is quite a gentle giant. Well, make sure you do not do
anything to make him your enemy. Start on the right foot.”
Right foot? What would that be? Devol had been very casual with Vaust.
Was that the right approach? Should he offer a handshake or a bow? He had
grown up around the royal guard thanks to his father and his mother had
instilled proper manners. Although he admittedly might not have used them
to the best of his ability, now would be a good time to recall those lessons.
The man stopped a few feet from the arrivals. The boy lowered his head
—less of a bow and more of a polite nod that lasted far too long—and
awaited the response.
 “Damn, does it always have to be so bloody cold out here?” the giant
protested. Devol pursed his lips, confused by this. It was a little chill with the
wind but it didn’t seem that bad. He raised his head cautiously. The large
Templar tightened his jacket before he slapped his comrade on the back. The
mori seemed unmoved. “How have you been, Vaust? Took you longer to
finish those gigs than I thought!”
Gigs? He was only aware of the one the older Magi had in the woods.
Were they all like that? Vaust nodded and smiled at his friend. “It was mostly
the travel. I don’t get to enjoy the realm that much when I’m here, so I took a
slower pace. Also…” He moved his arm and gestured with his hand toward
Devol as if presenting him. “This is Devol Alouest, the young Magi here to
train with the Templars.”
The man looked at the youngster and noted his stiff demeanor. “You all
right, kid? Nervous about being in the presence of the Templars, are ya?”
That might have been a factor but it was mostly this so-called gentle giant
he was worried about. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” he blurted,
straightened, and thrust a hand toward him.
“He wasn’t so nervous around me.” Vaust chuckled and glanced at his
friend. “And he had never seen a mori before. Perhaps you should think about
your appearance, my friend. You could be scaring potential recruits away.”
The man returned his gaze with a crooked smile, and Devol noted sharp
canines amongst his teeth. “I should look into finding a jacket with some
bunnies in it, then?”
“Designs or hides?” Vaust asked.
The man frowned and scratched his beard. “Does it matter?”
The mori sighed. “Yes, but let us not dwell on that or we will be out here
for quite a while.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Devol, I would
like you to meet Captain Baioh Wulfsun, my friend and one of the
commanders of the Templar Order.”
Wulfsun waved a large hand dismissively before he immediately brought
it back to hold his jacket tightly against him. “I don’t need that title crap. Not
much use for it nowadays. You can call me Wulfsun, lad.”
Devol nodded. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wulfsun!”
“Just Wulfsun. Come on now.” A sheepish grin appeared on his face. “All
Templars are brothers and sisters here, and we will be soon enough if you’ve
come to join us.”
“He’s merely here to train,” Vaust interjected. “He hasn’t made his mind
up about whether he will join us or not.”
The giant frowned and stroked his beard as he studied the young Magi.
“Is that so? Only to train? There are many academies and guilds to look into
for that. What made you seek us out, then, boyo, if you don’t mind me
asking?”
Devol took his pack off. “No, it’s all right.” He retrieved the map and
handed it to Wulfsun. “I was told to come here by my father and Mr. Lebatt
helped me on the way.”
“Is that so?” The man’s smile widened and he darted a glance at the mori
as he took the map and unfolded it. “It’s not like you to take strays in, Vaust.”
“I saw him in action and he’s hardly incompetent if that’s what you are
implying,” the other man countered. “In fact, he was able to draw his Anima
out in one night.”
Wulfsun whistled, clearly impressed. “That’s quite a feat!” He scrutinized
the map. “And I wasn’t saying nothing bad, only that—” His eye widened
and he stopped in mid-sentence and darted a glance at Vaust, who responded
with a nod. “Huh, ain’t that like him,” the giant muttered, folded the map, and
handed it to Devol. “Tell me, lad…that blade on your back wouldn’t happen
to be a majestic, would it?”
He nodded and drew his shining blade “I’m not sure what it does, but it’s
a big reason why I’m here.” He held it aloft and let his Mana flow through it
and in moments, it shone with the ethereal light.
The Templar commander observed it with astonishment, his mouth agape.
“That looks exactly like—”
“Something you’ve seen before?” Vaust asked and cut him off. His
comrade looked at him in bewilderment, but when he caught his gaze, he
merely nodded slightly.
“Aye, something like it.” He gestured to Devol. “You can put that away
now, brother,” he stated as he turned. “Let me welcome you to the Templar
Order hall. I can tell things are about to get quite interesting today.”
 C H A P T E R E I G HT

The entrance hall of the main building was adorned with several paintings,
large and small. They all seemed to capture vital moments—battles, victories,
armies standing ready, or a lone warrior preparing to fight a monster. Devol
guessed that they were historical pictures and noted that many of them also
bore the circular Templar insignia that he had seen on the castle entrance and
Vaust’s arm.
Wulfsun pushed a pair of large doors open. The room within was large
and two curved staircases at the end led to two separate floors. A large desk
stood near the stairs. No one was seated there, but he was surprised at how
ornate it was. In fact, much of what he had seen of the castle had a sense of
splendor to it.
He saw a few more large canvas paintings, and when he looked at the
ceiling, a large version of the insignia was inscribed there in gold. He was not
too familiar with architecture or any type of building design, but he could tell
this structure was quite old yet remarkably well-maintained.
“So then, where should we head to first?” the captain asked and placed
his fists on his waist as he looked at Vaust.
“I’ll leave that to you,” the mori replied as he gestured to one of the
staircases and walked toward it. “It would appear that the madame isn’t here,
so I’ll have to search for her.”
Wulfsun snorted. “You simply gonna head off, then?”
His comrade waved dismissively. “You are in charge of the new trainees,
aren’t you? And you are capable.” He stopped at the foot of the stairs and
looked over his shoulder. “I’ll catch up. I need to drop my bounties off and
report. For now, get to know the boy. I think you two will get along
famously.” With that, he began to ascend the stairs and left the two of them
alone.
“Always shifty, that one,” the giant muttered with a scowl. “It took quite
a while for the two of us to see eye-to-eye, even when I had both of them.”
He turned and looked at Devol. “He didn’t give ya too much grief on the way
here, did he?”
The boy shook his head. “Mr. Lebatt was quite helpful. He traveled with
me, showed me Anima, and even helped me with the first test.”
“First test? What test?”
“The one to open the anchor,” he said cheerfully. “You know, to get in?”
Wulfson folded his arms and uttered a surprisingly soft chuckle for a man
of his stature. “Heh, that was no test, boy. At least not one for the order.”
“Huh?” Devol shook his head in confusion. “But there were instructions
and everything on the map. How was I supposed to get in without using the
anchor?”
His protest met with another chuckle. “I saw the instructions and I assume
you didn’t read them through properly.” He held his hand out and spread his
fingers. “You were supposed to place your hand on the anchor and let your
Mana flow into it. Someone would have come through eventually.”
“But I did that when I was trying to open it,” he stated.
“For how long?” Wulfsun asked.
“I tried it multiple times and I poured a lot in!” he confessed.
The man shook his head again. “Ah, I can’t tell if he was honestly trying
to test you or merely having a laugh. You simply had to position your hand
and let your Mana flow for about one full minute. It is a signal that someone
is looking for us—like ringing a bell. Most guilds that use rifts do something
like this. Otherwise, how would potential clients and recruits make contact?
It’s not an easy feat to open an anchor.” He clicked his tongue in thought. “So
how did you get here, then? Did he eventually take pity on ya?”
Devol shook his head and pointed at his blade. “No, I eventually worked
it out. I had to use my sword.”
“Your majestic?” Wulfsun asked and raised an eyebrow. “You used your
majestic to open the portal?”
“That’s right.” He smiled. “I feel a little embarrassed that it took me so
long to discover it. Mr. Lebatt even demonstrated how to do it.”
The commander was intrigued. Opening an anchor had nothing to do with
a majestic. While some had abilities that affected portals, that wasn’t the
norm. Was this boy’s power something like that? That would be a hell of a
find. He was quite thankful that Vaust saw fit to bring him there. It could be a
dangerous thing for others to find out.
“I see. It’s something to think about,” Wulfsun mused.
“What’s that?” he asked.
After a moment, the man turned and approached another pair of doors in
the lobby that led to the west wing of the castle. “Nothing for now. Come
along.”
“Where to?” He ran behind the Templar, who held them open. The two
slipped inside and the doors shut with a loud clang behind them. Now that he
thought of it, almost all of them made the same sound when they shut.
“I’m gonna show you the training hall,” Wulfsun stated. “It’s the closest
thing we got to an academy here.”
“There is a Templar academy?” he asked. He had never heard of such a
thing and might have gone there first if he had known.
“Not an official one,” his guide admitted as they walked down a narrow
hall with many doors on either side. “We haven’t had one of those in more
than a couple of centuries.”
Devol nodded and glanced at the man. “Oh yeah, I wanted to ask—what
does a Templar do, exactly?”
The giant stopped in his tracks. He was a few steps ahead of the man
before he did as well and looked over his shoulder. Wulfsun caught him by
the back of his coat and lifted him so they were eye to eye. “You came here
knowing nothing about the Templars?”
“Um…not really,” he admitted. “I know my father respects you and that
Templars are skilled Magi warriors. But compared to other Magi guilds like
hunters, knights, and sorcerers, I can’t say I know much. I don’t think I ever
met a Templar before you and Mr. Lebatt.”
Silence followed for a short moment while the man considered that.
Finally, he nodded, put him down, and patted his shoulder. “You’re a trusting
lad, I’ll give you that. I’m not sure I would ever go to a place I didn’t know
anything about, much less search it out.”
“As I said, my father respects you,” the boy repeated. “And both my
parents said this would be the best place to learn about my new weapon.
That’s all I need.”
“Is that right?” Wulfsun’s frown turned to a smile as he continued to
walk. “Best not let your pappy and mummy down then. In here.” They
reached another set of doors, these etched with a sword on one and a fist on
the other. “Most of those other rooms are for individual training and
meditation, but this is where many of us get real work done.” He pushed
them open.
Inside was a massive open domed area that contained about a dozen
round arenas, each themed differently. Some contained large trees and
shrubbery akin to a forest. Another had rockier terrain with cliffsides and
spikes on the ground. One was filled with water and a platform in the middle
was only a few inches above the surface. The water flowed around it like it
was an ocean tide and splashed onto it periodically.
“This is incredible,” Devol said as he studied the area in awe. Long
walkways led to each arena and bronzed archways above them were roofed to
block the sunlight. About thirty men and women either walked around or
sparred with one another. Both human and wildkin were present, along with
another mori like Vaust, although he was black with red eyes and a few white
marks. He chatted to another realmer with pale golden eyes and smoother
features who looked less haunting and more gentle than his companion did.
Was he a mori too?
Another humanoid appeared to be female and stood almost as tall as
Wulfsun with deep-red skin. Coarse gray hair almost like straw flowed down
her back. She had large glowing red eyes and curved horns and was dressed
in dark armor with the Templar crest in the center of the chest plate. She was
in conversation with another humanoid with sleek light-purple skin and large,
round black eyes, fish-like in appearance. Devol could see webbed hands and
some kind of device around its neck that flowed with water. He was dressed
in blue robes with the Templar insignia on the left of his chest.
“More realmers,” he whispered, enchanted. “That’s a daemoni and tsuna,
right?”
“Indeed.” Wulfsun nodded. “Our order welcomes people from all realms
and ways of life as long as they hold to our values.” He pointed to an arena in
the distance. “There are a few more.”
The boy narrowed his eyes and studied a slim figure dressed in leather
with scaly green skin and large round eyes that could move in every direction
and a large fin on its head. He was in a battle with two others, a shorter,
stocky figure that looked a little like Wulfsun but with fiery, short, and well-
kept red hair instead of blond and a braided beard.
When the man smiled, he revealed stone-like teeth and he held two large
axes aloft, one in each hand. The third figure—who observed the other two—
had bronze-colored flesh, a slanted face with pretty green almond-shaped
eyes, flowing green locks, and a single horn on her head. She was dressed in
pale-green robes with browns and blues woven in.
“Those are…a squama, dwarf, and dryad?” Devol asked.
“Aye. They are more impressive in person than as pictures, eh?” the
captain commented. “We’ve got realmers from all nine of the known realms,
although not all are here today.”
“I wanted to ask…” the boy began but trailed off for a moment as he
considered his question.
“What is it?” Wulfson responded encouragingly.
“This castle is huge and there are so many people here.” He turned to
look at the Templar. “But given the size, it feels like there should be more.”
The giant nodded and gestured for him to follow him to a stone bench
near the forest arena. “Aye, and there are, but not all are here in the arena. I’d
bet you a splint most are in the tavern right now, while others are off on
missions.” He sat and folded his arms as the boy put the bag of food down
and sat next to him. “But even if we had every Templar here, you would still
be right. The order is somewhat light on bodies. It has been for a while.”
“But why?” Devol asked. “My father spoke so highly of you and from
what I saw of Mr. Lebatt, you are amazing.”
“We certainly can be,” Wulfsun said with a smile. “But that doesn’t mean
that many are flocking to our gates. I won’t bore you with all the details
given that you don’t know what you want to do yet. But I’ll say that our order
is ancient—hells, all other guildhalls were based on our example. But with
that long history comes some dark times, and those can overshadow all the
good you do, unfortunately.”
“What happened?” He felt sorrowful as he sensed the commander’s
forlorn demeanor.
The Templar forced a grin, straightened, and clapped him on the back.
The friendly blow almost knocked him off the bench. “Ah, don’t worry about
it for now. The thing is, that incident is old news but it caused some shake-
ups in the order. That and the establishment of the guilds meant we lost
esteem, but we still remain. We have a duty to.”
“Establishment of the guilds?” the boy repeated. “So does that mean the
Templars aren’t a guild?”
“We aren’t but most people call us that since those are the norm
nowadays,” Wulfsun replied. “The Templars are an order. It might be a minor
difference to most but it’s a statement to us. We are an order connecting to all
realms. There is no other Templar order but ours, and although some tried
previously, they didn’t last.” He leaned forward and peered skyward. “We
have a duty to defend the realms from evil, and it isn’t a matter of
philosophy. Anything that seeks to destroy or corrupt is our foe.”
“The knights and chevalier guilds work similarly, don’t they?” Devol
pointed out.
The commander shrugged. “As I said, all guilds foundations are based on
ours, but there are important differences.” He glanced at him. “Including a
mission we have been in charge of for centuries.”
“And what is that?” The boy leaned closer, wanting to hear more of this.
Wulfsun straightened and folded his large arms behind his head. “It’s
something the Templars have to deal with for now. You needn’t worry about
it.”
Devol frowned. It seemed both he and Vaust shared the habit of
withholding information they didn’t think he should know.
“Now tell me something, boy,” the captain began, “what kind of training
are you looking to get here?”
He leaned back as he considered it carefully. “I’m not entirely sure.
Um…I guess focusing on my majestic would be the most important.”
“That would be wise but beyond that, I mean we can teach you weapon
combat, Mana arts, all the usual things. But unless you have a goal, I don’t
see why you would need to stay here to learn all that specifically,” the
Templar replied.
“A goal?” He placed his hand on his side and touched the hilt of his
blade. “I do know that I want to be a warrior like my father. I feel that if I do
have something special about me, I should use it to help others, right?”
Wulfsun uttered a loud laugh but in merriment, not mockery. “That is the
best way to use it, I think. Yours is better than some of the responses I’ve
heard over the years.”
“I’m glad you think so.” His gaze drifted to the different Templars and
absorbed a few more details. “This is beyond what I even imagined it would
be. I…I think…” The words trailed off and he paused and wondered if he
was merely caught up in the moment. He didn’t want to make a promise he
couldn’t live up to or would regret.
The Templar sensed something weighing on the boy and assumed that
Vaust had dropped hints to him that he should join them. He was somewhat
guilty of it himself and he had only known him for about fifteen minutes.
With a reassuring smile, he patted him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t worry
about too much right now. You can get some rest and think about it. Feel free
to stay with us and train, then see what you think.”
Devol nodded, closed his eyes, and drew a sharp breath. “Thank you, but
I’m fine. I came here to train and if you’ll take me, I’m ready to start right
now.” His speech was punctuated by a noticeable growl from his stomach
and his eyes widened as he shook his head. “Well, maybe some food first.”
He lifted the bag and began to undo the knot. “Do you want some? Mr.
Lebatt bought so much.”
Wulfsun chuckled and nodded as he helped the boy open the large bag.
He had spirit, without a doubt. That was something many lacked, so he
already had a significant advantage.
 CHAPTER NINE

Once he had shared much of the food bought by Vaust with Wulfson, Devol
still had leftovers, which he gave to the other Templars in the battlegrounds
nearby. The commander guided the determined boy deeper into the training
grounds for him to begin his “tests.”
As they walked, he asked questions about the test and the man simply
responded with some variation of, “Wait and see.” A little frustrated after
each gentle rebuff, he turned his attention instead to the arenas and other
Templars nearby to keep himself occupied. When they seemed to draw closer
to the end of the path, he saw a rather simple arena, at least when compared
to the others—a smaller square platform made of white marble.
Three figures occupied the combat ground. Two were older Templars
from what he could see and he studied them with interest.
The man had wolf-like features—long, pointed ears, a pronounced nose,
clawed hands, and tanned skin, with a long shaggy mane of curled brown
hair. The other was a woman—or at least had the figure of a human woman
—but had long blue arms with rows of feathers, a black pointed beak, and
deep-set black eyes and a crown of blue and green feathers for hair.
They were both wildkin but two different varieties, the man belonging to
the more human-appearing homina species and the woman of the verte
species. Both had the more pronounced features of their animal counterparts.
The third figure—which the two older Templars were observing—was a
young girl about his age from what he could see and was also a wildkin. She
was a little shorter than him with long black-and-orange hair with white spots
and similar sharp, pointed ears to the man. Her ears, however, were on the
top of her head and almost blended in with her hair. She had fair skin and one
eye was green while the other was blue.
Dressed in a simple baggy white shirt and pants, she practiced punches
and sweeping strikes with her claws. He stopped and watched her draw back
and noticed a pair of bracers or gauntlets on her arm, although he couldn’t
make the details out. A yellow light flashed briefly before she leapt forward
and slashed the air. Devol’s eyes widened as three large claw marks gouged
the ground of the arena despite the fact that he could not see her touch it. She
wouldn’t have that kind of reach anyway, which left him confused.
When he looked at her, she had focused her gaze on him and he nodded
sheepishly as he jogged to the commander’s side. “Hey, Mr. Wulfsun.”
“I told ya, boy, just Wulfsun,” the Templar stated in a pointed tone, but
the boy was reassured by the easy smile still on his face. “What do ya need?”
“I wanted to ask…are you a wildkin too?” the boy questioned, he didn’t
have the more noticeable traits of either species, but the sharpened teeth,
great height, and well, he might be a little presumptuous, but the name could
have pointed to that.
His large companion laughed and shook his head. “Ah nah, boyo. I’m as
human as you. I was raised and trained by one, though,” he revealed. “I was
left on the Templar Order doorstep as a lad and my master was a wolf
wildkin similar to Freki there.” He nodded at the man Devol had observed.
“Baioh was the name I was left with in the letter—no family name obviously.
I decided to exercise a little humor and named myself in tribute to my master,
although he didn’t find it as amusing as I did. Still, I think he appreciated it.”
“Is he here?” the boy asked. He wanted to meet the man who had trained
such a confident warrior.
Wulfsun shook his head again. “Nah, he left on a mission over a year ago
and won’t be back for quite some time.”
“You didn’t want to go with him?” he asked as the two passed under a
large open gate into another room with dark-brown walls. Orange orbs hung
from the walls to illuminate the area and Devol noted several weapons and
pieces of armor beside them.
“Of course I did!” the captain admitted and frowned at the thought. “But
that’s how I came to have this command. He said someone needed to watch
over the training since he would be gone for so long. I didn’t like to think
about it at the time, but he was right. There were others who could have taken
the mantle, but if I wanted to consider myself his kin, I should also be
prepared for the responsibility.”
 The young Magi nodded. “That’s very admirable.”
The two stopped at a pair of metal doors and Wulfsun folded his arms and
released a bellowed laugh. “I thought so too. I mostly got called sentimental
and such at the time, but I eventually got the hang of it. I’m starting to see
why he did this for so long—you get attached to the young buggers when you
watch them grow and go after their ambitions, although we don’t have many
youngsters to speak of right now. It’s heartwarming. I guess I am a little
sentimental.” He scratched his beard, briefly lost in thought or memories
before he nodded to his companion and flicked his thumb toward the doors.
“Well then, if you are ready, we are here.”
Devol turned to examine the doors. They looked heavy—dark metal with
a bronze Templar insignia spread across them both. “The test takes place in
there?”
“This is the first test!” the commander corrected and smacked one with a
large hand. It clanged noisily and the boy resisted the temptation to cover his
ears. “This is a test of mettle. I’m not sure how much attention you’ve paid,
but I should tell you right now that Templars are in a constant state of
training, even during off-hours. Every door in this castle weighs anywhere
between a couple of hundred pounds to seven hundred, although one or two
are a little heavier.”
“All of them?” He gasped and recalled the loud thuds along the way
every time the man had opened one.
“Aye. It helps with potential thievery as well.” Wulfsun chuckled. “It’s
hard to be sneaky when every door slams with the subtlety of a dragon’s fat
ass pounding into a town broadside, although Vaust and a few others have
found a way.” He frowned slightly but gestured with his hand. “Anyway, this
door is one of the heaviest in the castle. Each side is one thousand, seven
hundred and fifty pounds, totaling three thousand five hundred pounds.”
“By the Astrals, what?” Devol gawked and studied them more closely.
“So my test is…”
“To make it through,” the Templar declared and held three fingers up.
“You seem hesitant so I’ll give you a hint. Only a handful of the strongest
men in the world such as yours truly can open these doors naturally, so don’t
think about it like that. There are three ways you can accomplish your task.
The test is to get through, and I’ll leave the rest to you.” He folded his arms
again. “Still wanna start right now? As I said, you can have a few days to
think it over.”
 Devol responded by removing his pack. He stared at the man for a
moment with determination in his eyes before he stepped closer to the doors
and studied them. He had options, he thought cautiously and assumed that
pushing them was the simplest, which meant using Vis. That triggered an
idea and he paused to consider it.
There were three ways to open them and three uses of Mana in the trinity.
If he was right, there was not only a way to accomplish it Vis but with Vita
and Vello as well. He examined the metal more closely. How was that
possible? His gaze settled on a large keyhole between each door just before
the Templar insignia. He traced it with his fingers and discerned the faint
presence of Mana.
Wulfsun had not said anything about a key so maybe he could open it
with his Mana? That would be using Vello so it was an option, but Vita? He
stepped back again, took a deep breath, and summoned his Anima around
him before he focused on his eyes.
The Templar noticed this with great interest. Vaust had mentioned that
the boy had only learned Anima the night before. It seemed the young Magi
had a knack for it as he barely felt it flare. He almost chuckled at the irony.
The boy approached this cautiously, but if he was already familiar with
Anima, he was making this harder than it needed to be.
Devol stared at the door and studied the inverted eye of the Templar
insignia, which seemed to look directly at him. Some type of rune or ward
was traced in Mana above the eye and it latched onto him somehow, but he
felt no malicious intent.
If he had to guess, it was a tracking rune of some kind and perhaps
measured his Mana. That would be a measure of Vita if he was right. So to
even start the tests properly, he concluded, he had to show that he had learned
the basics. He began to realize that Vaust’s prodding and coaching might
have been to determine if he could get past this point. A little ruefully, he
acknowledged that he should have been more thankful when he had the time
with him.
He let his Anima subside and exhaled slowly as the silver-and-white light
faded around him. How should he approach this? Should he perhaps simply
use Vis and test his theory? He was not sure he could open it with Vis alone,
however. Maybe part of the way, but he had yet to see how strong he was
with the aid of Anima, so it was potentially possible.
The boy straightened with his arms at his sides and let his Mana flow
through him. As it built, he closed his eyes to focus better. If he intended to
try Vis, he needed to harness as much Mana as he had available.
His concentration was broken, however, when he heard the shriek of
metal. He opened his eyes and narrowed them on the eye of the Templar
insignia. It glowed and the doors began to move apart.
Wulfsun clapped loudly behind him. “There you go, boy! You found the
solution in no time at all.”
“Wait. I had only begun to build my Mana up—” Devol protested but
stopped himself. He had used Vita to do it and had somehow summoned
enough Mana to empower the door to open. It had been successful, even if
not as planned.
“Ready for the next part, then?” the commander asked and waited for him
to step through, but he caught the man’s arm to hold him back. The Templar
looked curiously at him.
“If you don’t mind,” he said with a glance at the doors, “I want to see if I
can open them the other two ways.”
Surprised, the giant raised an eyebrow. He had not heard the request
before and most were satisfied to have simply opened the doors. But if the
boy wanted to make the attempt, why stop him? He grasped the handles of
the large doors and closed them easily. He ran a hand over the eye to
deactivate the ward and stepped back. “I like to see spirit like that. Try to
your heart’s content.”
Devol nodded and approached the keyhole. If he had enough Mana to get
through with Vita, then Vis would probably work with no issues. Vello was
his weakest discipline in the trinity, so that would be the next one he would
try. He peered inside the keyhole and noticed small, glowing blue spikes in
the darkness—cobalt? So was he supposed to use his Mana to activate those?
It seemed like a more complicated way to display his flow of Mana, and
he had already done that. He straightened with a frown. There must be
something more, but he couldn’t even begin to guess and would simply have
to try and see if it worked. He extended his hand with his fingers spread apart
and let small trails of Mana flow out and into the keyhole to attach to the
cobalt spikes within. He allowed more to trickle in and when he neither saw
nor heard any change, he decided that flooding the spikes with Mana
wouldn’t achieve the desired result.
It was a keyhole, so perhaps he should treat his Mana as if it were the
key. That made sense when he thought about it and he held his open hand
with the other, closed his eyes to focus, and used the Mana attached to the
spikes to try to turn the lock. He regretted it almost immediately as he could
feel his fingers bending with it.
The Mana strands were too thin. He probably had the right idea but
needed to strengthen the bond. Pushing his impatience aside, he focused on
building the Mana trails to strengthen the connection between him and the
lock. The process relieved his fingers somewhat when he tried to manipulate
the lock again, but when he had turned it almost a quarter of the way, the
resistance returned. He frowned and tried using his other hand to create a
second set of Mana strands to help relieve the stress of the bond and unlatch
the door.
Wulfsun observed the boy’s struggle, a little surprised that he still had to
use Vello in that manner. In the same way he knew from watching him use
Anima that he could open the doors, he knew from this display that it
wouldn’t work. Most Magi who were advanced in Vello did not use it as an
extended limb or digit. This type of action was accomplished purely through
mind and spirit. It was not necessarily bad that he used Vello in this manner
for simple things like moving objects and the like, but he would not get
through the lock like that.
Eventually, Devol released his hold, backed away from the door, and
shook his fingers. He stopped after only a few steps and sighed in frustration
before he shook his head, returned to the door, and placed his palms on it. His
face a picture of concentration, he let both his Mana and Anima flare and
stared at the Templar eye as he gritted his teeth and pushed. With an angry
yell, he took a step forward and thrust the doors apart.
This earned an approving whistle from Wulfsun, who placed a hand on
his shoulder. “Two out of three. Well done, lad,” he complimented him.
“Most are happy to get through the first time. You have certainly shown
some fire.”
The boy nodded and checked his fingers. “I guess I still have more to
work on,” he admitted, picked his pack up, and slid it over his shoulders.
“What’s next, Mist—Wulfsun?”
The Templar let that slide and pointed into the dark hall behind the doors.
“Now we get to the part that makes things fun,” he stated with a toothy grin.
“We’ll learn about that pretty sword of yours, brother.”
 CHAPTER TEN

They proceeded deeper into the darkened space and moved toward a light
that indicated a second chamber.
“This is one of the spires in the center of the castle,” Wulfsun explained
and pointed to the opening ahead. “We refer to it as the treasury and it’s
where we keep most of the valuables we’ve procured through missions,
negotiations, that kind of thing.”
“And it’s where you keep the majestics?” Devol asked.
“Not all, boyo,” the Templar corrected. “We have some in there but
majestics are unique and we can’t simply pass them around like we would a
work mule. This is where we keep artifacts, exotics, trinkets, curios, those
types of things. Rivets as well.”
“Rivets?” He frowned as he searched his memories. “I don’t think I’ve
ever heard of those.”
The commander chuckled. “It’s something of a local term around here.
But more importantly than those, this is where a friend of mine is usually
hiding. He’ll help you get everything in order for the next part of the test.”
So he would meet another Templar. He wondered if he was a commander
too and where he hailed from. Was he another human or perhaps a realmer he
had yet to see? He’d had so many new experiences today and yet he was
thrilled about another. It was probably a habit he should work on before he
went into another haunted forest in the future.
When they walked into the chamber, Devol paused to study the high
white-and-silver walls contrasted by dark marbled floors. Several large
bookcases were filled with tomes and a few banners displayed the familiar
Templar insignia. A massive fireplace provided a calm, flickering fire and in
one of the corners of the chamber, the foot of a spiraling staircase leading
farther up the tower was visible.
“It’s probably the fanciest looking room in this castle,” Wulfsun told him.
“My friend managed the decorations and renovations over the years,
something of a pet project.”
“Given that it might as well be my abode…” a steady, studious voice
began and the boy turned. The speaker was a dryad, a male this time and
taller than the female he had seen earlier. His pale red skin highlighted his
bright yellow eyes. Flowing blue robes covered his form with white
wrappings around his hands and what appeared to be wooden rings on two
fingers of his left hand, but they were immaculately crafted. His hair was
long and hung to the middle of his back. It was a snowy white but more
vibrant than Vaust’s, and his white horn protruded from the top of his
forehead with another wooden ring adorning the base.
He folded his arms behind his back as he approached the two visitors to
his domain and his gaze lingered on Devol for a moment before he turned his
attention to Wulfsun. “I would argue that making it more homey helps with
my work.”
“And hello to you too, Zier!” The captain greeted him with a large grin
and turned to his young companion. “This is Zier Nightbloom, head of
scholars in the order.” He turned to the dryad and gestured toward the boy
with his head. “This young Magi is Devol. He came looking for us.”
“I see.” Zier looked at Devol, who saw a faint glimmer of white and
green in his eyes. “Hmm…impressive for your age. You are here to train?”
He nodded and drew his blade. “Yes, sir. I recently acquired this majestic
and need help to determine its origin and abilities.”
“A majestic? Are you certain?” the scholar asked.
He shook his head but immediately nodded, a little confused by the
question. “I’ve shown it to others like Wulfsun. They agree that is what it is.”
Zier closed one eye and peered at the sheathed sword. He removed a hand
from behind his back to stroke his chin. “To come here for that? It’s rather
unorthodox.”
“He’s here on good authority,” the commander explained and stared into
his comrade’s opened eye. “Trust me. Vaust brought him in himself.”
“Ah, so he has returned then,” the dryad commented. “Good, I need to
speak to him. But before that—”
At a loud clatter in a room behind him, the scholar sighed and looked
over his shoulder. “Is something amiss in there?”
“Everything is just fine!” a young male voice called in response. The
speaker had an accent and stretched the j’s and i’s, but Devol could not place
it. “I’ll be there in a second.” A moment later, a boy emerged through the
doorway, dressed in blue and white robes. He had dark skin, sharp green
eyes, and hair twisted together in long braids.
The large tome under his arm looked almost flesh-colored from age and
wear, and a newer book with a dark leather binding and a golden eye
embossed on the cover was clasped shut and bound to his belt. “Is this what
you were looking for?”
Zier took the tome and examined it. “Indeed it is. Well done,” he said
with a nod and opened it. “How you manage to find these long-lost treasures
is astounding.”
“You were reading that a month ago, Zier,” the youngster replied and
shrugged with a small smile on his face. “Not long-lost so much as
misplaced, although why you left it in the map area is a mystery to me.”
“Humph.” The scholar sniffed and flipped through the pages. His
assistant finally noticed the visitors.
He nodded at the giant Templar. “Hello, Commander.” His gaze shifted
to Devol. “Oh, someone my age.” He approached him and proffered his hand.
“Nice to see another boy here.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied and took his hand. “I’m Devol Alouest.”
“I’m Jazaiah Filsaime, but you can call me Jazai.” They shook hands and
studied one another curiously. “So what brings you to the order?”
“He’s here to train,” Zier answered before the others could. “He’s
showing some initiative, unlike a certain someone.”
Jazai frowned and rolled his eyes. “You know, Zier, when you’re that
obvious, you can merely say ‘you.’”
“I’m trying to leave you some dignity,” the dryad retorted and continued
to flip through the pages in the book.
His assistant sighed and focused on the newcomer. “My father and he
were buddies in the academy or something. He brought me here to keep up
with my studies when he had to go abroad.”
“And have you done your part?” Zier asked. “Do remember I’ll be
writing to him soon.”
“You don’t write,” the boy replied. “You send him messages with an A-
stone.”
 “We’re both busy men,” the scholar countered and peered at him for a
moment. “And the question still holds weight. I’ll be testing you by the end
of the month.”
“You still need to teach me more about rune placement and functions,”
Jazai retorted and smiled wryly.
“Indeed so.” The dryad nodded and returned to his book. “I’ll make sure
you can call yourself an expert by the test, so it will be no blame on my part
if you fail.”
“That hasn’t been a problem so far.” The boy chuckled, stepped beside
Devol, and leaned closer. “I think he was hoping I was a wide-eyed know-
nothing he could simply lecture all day. He’s become somewhat irritated
about the fact that I’ve excelled in every trick and test he’s thrown at me.”
“Certainly not, young Jazaiah,” Zier responded. “Your intellect is a sign
of your talent and your father’s teaching. It’s merely the ego and personality
around it that irks me.”
The boy chuckled again. “He’s basically saying I’m a jerk but a smart
one, at least.” He looked at Wulfsun. “So is he your new apprentice or
something, Commander?”
The giant shrugged. “We haven’t gotten that far. We came here to start
the next part of the tests.”
“Really?” Jazai’s attention turned to Devol. “So you just did the doors?”
He nodded. “Yes. Did you take the tests too?”
The boy nodded with a broad grin. “Yeah, little over a year ago. I got
through using Vello on the keyhole and it took me less than ten minutes.”
“Vello?” he asked and frowned when he recalled his attempt. “That was
the one I couldn’t do.”
Jazai nodded a little smugly. “It’s probably the hardest one, but I thought
— Wait, the one you couldn’t do?” His smile faltered and he gave the
newcomer a bewildered look. “So you got through with both Vita and Vis?”
Devol nodded. “Yeah. I think Vis was the easier of the two.” He screwed
his face up in thought. “Although I didn’t mean to open it with Vita. It simply
happened.”
The other boy’s expression was incredulous, and he looked at Wulfsun
for confirmation. The Templar now wore a sly smirk as he nodded.
“That’s…uh…well, it’s damn good,” Jazai acknowledged. “It looks like I
might have some competition around here.”
“Oh yeah. But you did say it was nice to have someone your age,” Devol
recalled and gestured over his shoulder. “And I saw a girl—a wildkin—who
looked about my age.”
“Asla?” the young assistant frowned and peered in the general direction
of the arenas as if he could see her through the walls “Well…she certainly
counts, but she’s not exactly a very extroverted person.
“She’s been staying in the order for a few years now, being looked after
by her guardian, Freki. She’s begun training hard over the last year or so.
Can’t say too much, partially because it’s not my place and partially because
our conversations are usually pretty brief.”
“Give her time,” Wulfsun stated with a small frown. “The reason she’s
here isn’t as simple and comfortable as yours.”
Jazai nodded. “I know. I’ve not pushed her.” He looked at Devol. “How
old are you exactly, though?”
He pointed to himself. “Me? I’m fourteen, turning fifteen in a couple of
moons.”
“Oh, then you are closer to her age than mine,” the boy responded,
lowered his arms, and gestured at himself with a thumb. “I’m fifteen, turning
sixteen during the awakening moon.”
“Let us hope that is the start of you earning some wisdom,” Zier
remarked, shut the book, and focused his full attention on Wulfsun. “So I
assume the reason you are here is that the boy is trying to learn about his
majestic’s abilities, then?”
The commander nodded. “Aye. The lad doesn’t know a damn thing about
it.”
Jazai raised an eyebrow. “Can I see it?” he asked and held his hand out.
Devol nodded and handed it to him. The apprentice drew it and Zier studied it
for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, that’s a majestic indeed,” the
other boy muttered as he examined the blade’s surface and the light under it.
“Have you seen something like this before, Zier?”
“I believe I have.” The dryad glanced at Wulfsun, who nodded curtly. He
thumped the book onto a nearby table. “Come with me.”
Jazai seemed surprised by his mentor’s reaction. He turned to Devol and
shrugged, slid the blade into the scabbard, and handed it to him. Zier took the
group to the other side of the room and into a larger chamber, this one with a
stone floor and a large table in the center. “This is where we will hold your
kinship trial,” he stated.
“Kinship trial?” the new young Magi inquired as he looked a little warily
at the large cupboards, racks filled with various tools and scrolls, and a
massive chandelier above.
“It’s another test, basically,” Jazai explained. “This one will help you to
discover its origin and ability.”
“Oh, that would be useful,” he said, a little distracted by the numerous
and very different objects on the table. “So will we have to look through
books or something?”
“Nothing that mundane,” Zier said and approached him. “You will speak
to your majestic.”
 C H A P T E R E LE V E N

“The majestic will speak?” Devol frowned at his sword. “Are they…alive?”
Zier's eyes closed for a moment before he turned his head slowly to look
at Wulfsun, who shrugged with indifference. Jazai chuckled and slid an arm
around the young Magi. “Nothing like that. He means resonation.”
“Resonation?” That meant little and he felt more confused than ever.
“Vaust said something about the fact that not everyone can use a majestic so I
assume it has to do with that?”
The scholar nodded. “Indeed, although in this case, we can see that you
are already forming a connection to yours. What we will attempt to find out is
what power it has.” He gestured to the table.
Devol examined the items again and noticed over a dozen weapons and
instruments, although none looked particularly ready for battle. “Are those
training weapons?”
Wulfsun shook his head. “Nah, boyo, those are the rivets I told you
about.” He walked closer and selected one that resembled a mace but was
almost all black and made of a rough-looking material. “I guess you can think
of them as practice exotics. They use enough special material to contain the
magical enhancements but aren’t practical for battle unless you are trying to
show off.”
“On occasion, we find someone who is worthy of a majestic,” Zier
continued and stepped beside the commander. “We have several stored
awaiting a master, but even in our current condition, we are not in a position
to merely hand them to someone who shows promise. Majestics are powerful,
and while they may not be sentient as you suggested, young one, they can
connect themselves to another.”
 “Mr. Lebatt said something about that too,” Devol recalled. “He said that
if it bonds itself to you and it gets damaged, that could affect you as well.”
“Aye.” Wulfsun nodded. “And worse, if you try to force a bond with a
majestic when you aren’t compatible or ready to wield one yet…well, people
have lost things to the process.”
“Lost ‘things?’” he asked a tad nervously, although he tried to not let it
show.
Jazai leaned closer. “Mana, limbs, lives, things like that.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, that’s unfortunate.”
“Indeed,” Zier agreed and examined the other objects on the table. “This
is a simple study. You are to try each weapon in turn and see which one
resonates with you the best. In normal circumstances, this would tell us what
kind of power the user will best work with. You see, while majestics and
exotics are different, there are some similarities. The abilities of exotics and
the Mana that fuels them are similar, almost like a person’s biological—”
“I think you’re wasting your breath, Zier. Not the time for a lecture.”
Jazai interjected with a glance at the other boy. “Basically, discovering which
power works best with you might be a clue as to what your majestic does. It
isn’t always right but as he said, it is a simple study.”
“I see.” Devol sheathed his sword on his back as Wulfsun tossed him the
mace he held. He caught it, surprised by how light it was. “Are all rivets this
light?”
“Many are.” The commander folded his arms. “Although they are made
with the cheapest special materials, as much as that sounds like a
contradiction. But that mace’s power is to increase and decrease its weight
depending on the wielder’s control. Try it and see what happens.”
Without hesitation, he let a trickle of Mana flow into the mace. He had
some experience using exotics as his father had given him some lessons,
although he never let him keep one until the sword appeared. He saw a small
silver glimmer in the head of the mace and it became weightier in his hand as
he connected to it.
“You see the color of his Mana?” Wulfsun whispered to Zier.
“I did.” The scholar nodded. “Another sign, it seems.”
Devol swung the mace to adjust to the change in weight, then raised it
and increased the weight as he repeated the arc. This time, it almost made
impact with the floor and he grimaced. He did not doubt that he would have
cracked the stone with the rivet if it had done so. He used both hands to lift it
and noted how heavy it was now. As he struggled with it, he wished he
hadn’t made it so heavy and it lost weight drastically so he was able to raise it
easily over his head.
“Well, that seems to work as expected.” The commander tapped the table.
“Put it down and try another.”
Devol nodded and complied. “I’m curious,” he stated and looked at the
two Templars. “Do either of you have a majestic?”
Wulfsun grinned. “Aye, both of us do.”
Zier glared at him for a moment before he sighed. “Indeed, we are among
a handful of Templars who have a majestic. Most here make do with
exotics.”
“Can I see them?” he asked excitedly. “I saw Mr. Lebatt’s. While I’m not
sure what it does yet, it looked impressive. I want to see some others if I
can.”
“Don’t bother.” Jazai snorted and glanced at the scholar with an
aggravated tone to his voice. “He’s never shown me, no matter how much I
pester him about it.”
“Mine is an orb,” the dryad responded and his apprentice’s jaw clenched.
“My realm of Daosith holds majestics in high regard, as many do. We have
about forty known majestics, and each noble family is blessed with one or
more. In my family, I was chosen to take care of one of ours.”
Jazai folded his arms as he stared at his tutor in exasperation. “Why do I
have the feeling you did that to spite me?”
“There is no need to be so vague, Jazai,” Zier responded cheerfully. “I did
do it to spite you. Now go and fetch a kinship scroll, if you would.”
The boy rolled his eyes and exited the room. “Perhaps I should write to
my father about you.”
“I’m sure he could use the laugh,” the scholar retorted before he returned
his attention to Devol. “Now then, continue with the others. Once you have
tried them all, we shall work on the next part of the trial.”
He nodded and examined the different objects available—a shield, a pair
of glasses, rocks in several different colors, a rifle, scissors, a doll made of
cloth and one of plastic, a deck of cards, a long wooden staff, and a number
of other odd objects as well. “Some of these would make poor weapons.”
“Truly a warrior, aren’t you?” Zier sighed and received a questioning
look from the boy and an irate one from Wulfsun. “This is a world of Magic.
Just because something may not appear to be practical…well, that falls into
the hands of the user rather than the object itself.”
The commander looked around the table and he frowned at the dolls.
“Even I have to admit, some of these are weird choices. I did tell them to
make the rivets simple, I suppose.”
“Keep going until you try each one, young Magi,” Zier instructed. “And
let us know if one appears easier to use than the others. Remember, we’re
looking at the abilities and connection, not the items themselves.”
He looked at the long table with a frown. This would probably take a
while.

Jazai returned to the chamber and watched in silence as Devol tried to

resonate with what appeared to be a camera. He stopped beside Wulfsun with
his arms folded and a scroll in one hand as he observed the attempt with a
mixture of amusement and sympathy. “He’s still at it?”
“Aye.” The giant Templar nodded. “Zier is making him try every last one
of them.”
The assistant shook his head. “He made me do the same thing, although I
found mine after only a few different items.” He patted the book attached to
his waist. “Kind of convenient that it turned out to be the same type of
majestic.”
Wulfsun nodded again. “We had that in the vault for a long while. I’m
glad it finally found a user.”
He smirked. “Glad to take it off your hands. However, Zier keeps making
me use it for menial tasks.”
The commander gave him a knowing glance. “It’s probably his way of
training, yes? Besides, it’s not like you can keep it if you merely have it for
appearances. Gotta get practical use out of it eventually.”
Jazai sighed. “I know, I know.”
“There are only a couple left,” the Dryad stated. “Finish this and we can
continue.”
“Hey, Zier!” his assistant called and held the scroll up. “I’m back.”
His tutor looked at him over his shoulder. “Just now? Where have you
been?”
“Looking for one of these damn things,” Jazai retorted and waved the
scroll in the air. “We have very few left. I had to get this from the supply you
keep in your quarters.”
Zier nodded and returned his focus to the young Magi undergoing the
trial. “I’ll make a note to order more.”
Jazai lowered his arm and looked at the scroll. “When was the last time
we had a kinship trial? Asla, wasn’t it?”
“And you before that,” Wulfsun told him. “But before you…probably
two or three years before you arrived.”
“We aren’t exactly using them at a frenetic pace,” the boy muttered. “I
didn’t see Asla’s trial, so this will be my first time to see someone else go
through theirs.”
“I’m interested to see which one comes up,” the commander mused and
stroked his beard. “I got a splinter on some kind of transmutation ability.”
“You also have a gambling problem,” Jazai retorted and ignored the
Templar’s somewhat offended scowl by looking away to gesture at the other
young man. “If I had to take a guess…I would go with evocation.”
“Is that so?” Wulfsun asked as Devol picked up the last object. “Many
majestics are that so it’s a safe bet, but not everyone falls into a class so
easily.”
“Agreed, but did you look closely at that blade?” the young apprentice
inquired. “That light inside… I might not be a smithy or majestic researcher
yet, but that looks like it channels a power source of its own. Many
evocation-type majestic have something similar to that.”
“Similar yes,” the giant agreed. “But not quite like it either.”
“So, am I finished?” Devol asked as he put the mace down. “They were
all different but none felt quite right.”
Zier nodded. “It would appear so. Did any of them feel unique?”
The boy shrugged. “They all felt about the same, to be honest. I don’t
think I had any problems controlling any of them, but I don’t think I was
exactly great with any either.”
“Not that I noticed.” The dryad frowned. It would appear that they would
find no hints there and he felt a small surge of excitement. This had rapidly
become something of a mystery, one he was eager to solve. He beckoned to
Jazai, took the scroll from him, and unrolled it. For a long moment, he
studied it in silence before he nodded at Devol, who stepped forward hastily.
“So what’s next?” he asked eagerly.
Zier turned, stretched the parchment, and knelt to place it on the ground.
“We try to discover the class of your majestic.”
“Class? Like its type or attribute?” the boy asked, his gaze fixed on the
scroll as the scholar stood.
“Nice deduction,” Jazai commented. “Think of it as what category the
power of your majestic falls under—like cantrips. Usually, this is for the user
to see what magic class they are most in tune with to help to choose a
majestic or exotic for them. But in this case—”
“We would normally do something like this over a period of time,” Zier
interrupted and earned his apprentice’s ire. “You would use these scrolls
several times over months or potentially years if you were a novice.
Gradually, a symbol would develop on the scroll that indicates your class.”
“Oh, I see.” Devol nodded and regarded the blank page with both
excitement and nervousness. “But it won’t take that long for me, will it?”
The dryad shook his head. “You already have a majestic. We are merely
trying to find out what it does.” He gestured to the scroll, which was entirely
blank, and then at the boy. “Funnel your Mana into it through the blade and it
should produce the symbol immediately.”
Without hesitation, he unsheathed his blade and looked from it to the
parchment. He would finally have an answer to what the light could do. A
part of him felt eager while another part felt a little uneasy, and he did not
know how to describe the odd contradictory sensations. So much had been
thrown at him so quickly, but he reminded himself that this was the main
reason why he’d come. He needed to find the answer as soon as possible so
he could look to his future without doubts to hold him back.
“Place your majestic on the page,” Zier instructed.
“Make sure to not stab through it,” Jazai warned.
The scholar shook his head and sighed. “I truly hoped that was self-
explanatory.”
The boy nodded and placed the tip of the sword gently onto the scroll,
letting his Anima gradually gain power as he transferred his Mana into the
blade and through it onto the page. The others gathered closely and awaited
the results to see what future this young Magi had in store.
 C H A P T E R T W E LV E

Devol removed the sword from the scroll and bent to pick the parchment up
as the others took a step back. He could see nothing other than a faint
shimmer of silver from his Mana. Disappointingly, no words or symbols had
appeared.
Wulfsun scratched his head, his expression confused. “Did we get a bad
one?”
Zier shook his head firmly. “No, even if Jazaiah had chosen a defective
scroll, I examined it myself before we started.”
The other boy glared at his mentor. “I think I hear a faint tone of sadness
that you can’t blame this on me.”
The scholar brushed his protest aside and extended a hand toward Devol,
asking for the majestic. He handed the weapon to him and looked on with
concern as the dryad ran his hand over the sword and checked the tip of the
blade thoroughly. “Odd. It seems fine and the boy was obviously able to use
it.” He frowned and returned it. “Well then, it is not impossible for the scroll
to not work, merely quite rare.”
“Want me to get another?” Jazai asked, his arms folded. “Do remember
I’m getting them from your personal supply.”
Zier pointed to the scroll in Devol’s hand and the boy handed it to him.
He examined it carefully to be thorough before he shrugged and rolled it.
“Nothing seems the matter with this one. It looks like we’ll need to try other
methods.”
“What other methods?” the boy asked and rested the blade on his
shoulder.
“You’ll see in a moment,” he promised, pointed to the other boy, then
indicated one of the cabinets in the far corner. “Jazaiah, I’ll fetch a crystal.
Get the pedestal ready, would you?”
His apprentice whistled in surprise. “You gonna use the crystal now? I
don’t think I’ve seen one of those used yet.” He continued to mumble as he
and his mentor went in separate directions. Devol followed the younger
scholar.
“What’s this about a crystal?” he asked and peered over his shoulder to
where Zier and Wulfsun looked in different cupboards on the opposite wall.
“Don’t worry about it too much,” Jazai said reassuringly. “It’s another
way to potentially discern the class of magic your majestic fits into. Although
I should mention that this one is trickier.”
“Oh, got any pointers?” he asked, a little worried about what made this
one different than the scroll. If he failed the easy trial, would this go any
better?
“It’ll require Vello,” the other boy explained, opened the large doors of a
cabinet, and searched through the contents. “You will pour some Mana into a
crystal, which will charge the Mana with its essence and react to it in a
unique way, depending upon what class it falls under. It’s basically a curio.”
“A curio?” Devol remarked but the answer did little to resolve his
confusion. “I’ve had curios before but they are simply magical knick-knacks
—toys. I don’t think something like that can be of much help.”
“That is more common nowadays, I guess.” Jazai chuckled as he
continued to search through the cabinet. “But curio is a very generic name. It
is better to think of them as exotics that are not meant to be used as weapons.
They aren’t always souvenirs for people passing through the big city.”
He regarded his companion with a raised brow. “That sounds like a
judgment.”
The boy chuckled again and shrugged. “More an observation. I guess I’m
a city boy, technically.” He finally retrieved out a bronzed, three-legged
pedestal from the depths of the cabinet. “Here it is. I doubt we’ll have any
problems with it being defective. This used to be the only way to discover a
Magi’s talent a couple of centuries ago.”
The two rejoined their elders. Zier now held a fist-sized clear crystal and
once Jazai positioned the pedestal securely, he placed it on top and motioned
for Devol to sit on the floor. The boy did so and, his nervousness seemingly
forgotten, studied the crystal. On closer inspection, it had what could be a
glow in the center that he had not noticed before, or maybe it hadn’t been
there until this moment.
“Place your hands on either side of the gem,” the scholar instructed. He
nodded compliance and moved his hands slowly to the sides of it.
Immediately, the light inside began to shimmer faintly. “Now, this should not
be difficult, but it will require concentration and might be taxing on your
Mana supply,” the dryad continued as he sat opposite him. “You need to send
your Mana through the outer shell of the crystal so it connects to the light
inside. That light is what we refer to as a Mana cell, something that can
absorb Mana.”
“Like what is inside cobalt, not so?” Devol asked.
“Not exactly.” The Templar seemed to prepare himself to begin a lecture
until a slight tap of Wulfsun’s boot on his back stopped him. “Humph. Well.
For now, it is close enough. But this has been modified to take Mana in and
search it. As a result, it will have a different reaction depending on the type of
power your majestic has.”
The boy nodded and noticed his hands shaking a little. “Wait—shouldn’t
I hold my majestic or something?”
Zier shook his head. “This is for people who are still discovering what
type of majestic they could wield so holding your weapon serves no purpose.
But in your case, you already have a majestic that has connected to you,
albeit lightly from what I can tell but enough to leave a type of imprint on
you. This crystal will be able to detect that imprint and react accordingly.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” The boy frowned in concentration. “So what
kinds of reactions are we looking for?”
“Well, if it is in the constitution class, it will form a tight ball of light. If it
is the conjuration class, it will form into a kind of mist and swirl around the
inside of the crystal,” the Templar explained. “Things like that, but since we
haven’t gone through what each class represents, we’ll hold off on that for
now and attempt to discover what your class is first.”
Devol drew a breath and moved his hands slightly closer. “I’m ready.”
“Good, now take a deep breath and concentrate,” Zier ordered and
watched closely. The boy obeyed, his eyes closed, and thin trails of Mana
flowed from his fingers onto the side of the crystal. “Send a little more now
and remember that the Mana cell is your target, not the crystal itself.”
With a small nod, he scrunched his face and focused more intently. The
thin strands of Mana grew thicker and finally pushed through the crystal and
seeped into the light. He continued to push more into the crystal, where it was
drawn in by the light. Zier, Wulfsun, and Jazai all looked on eagerly, waiting
to see the reaction from the cell.
“You doing fine,” Jazai murmured. “It might take a couple of minutes but
keep going.”
Devol responded with the slightest nod, now almost fully focused on
keeping his Mana in check. He didn’t want it to grow weak or even to
potentially overload it, although he was unsure if that would create a
problem. Maybe a large amount was needed to cause a reaction.
A sense of tension settled over the group. Zier noted small changes and
studied each one carefully. The light began to glow brighter and shifted its
form, but nothing conclusive resulted. He should have had more patience, but
his patience had begun to wear thin. He was oddly invested in the revelation
of the boy’s majestic’s power and now decided he would step in and help
him.
“Go ahead and increase the flow of your Mana,” he instructed. “Don’t
overdo it but send a surge in and let us see if that yields something.”
The young Magi immediately released a pulse of Mana that traveled into
the cell, and it flared brighter than it had previously.
“Looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” Wulfsun smiled and
leaned closer. “Now let’s see what it looks like—huh?”
The trio gaped as the light formed into a ball that suggested it might be
constitution until it did something rather unexpected. It began to enlarge and
a torch-like fire enveloped it as it stretched before it bounced around the
inside of the crystal and began to divide itself into small copies.
“By the hells, what is all this?” the commander demanded.
Zier shook his head as he clasped the boy's hands. “I honestly have no
idea. Devol! That’s enough. You need to stop.”
Devol opened his eyes and his eyes narrowed on the crystal as the light
began to swirl rapidly inside. The flames formed a halo that began to rotate.
He backed away hastily, along with the rest of the group. Even though he had
cut the flow of Mana off, the Mana cell did not stop.
“Uh…are we in danger?” Jazai asked.
“Shield!” Zier called and an illuminated shield of green Mana formed in
front of him.
Jazai frowned and reached a hand out to drag the other boy closer. “An
unusual way to provide a hint, friend. Shield!” he snapped to create a barrier,
this one of blue Mana.
 Wulfsun remained in place with his arms folded as they continued to stare
at the crystal. It began to glow even brighter and everyone wondered if it
would erupt or collapse but awaited whatever would happen with bated
breath.
It turned out they had been too anxious. After one final burst of light, the
Mana cell inverted itself quickly and faded, surprising all of them. Jazai and
Zier took a moment to observe it and make sure it would not have one last
surprise in store before they dropped their barriers. The scholar stood, walked
cautiously to the crystal, and prodded it a couple of times before he picked it
up and examined it.
“So, does that tell ya anything there, head scholar?” the commander asked
and looked from the dryad to Devol.
His fellow Templar nodded, silent for a moment before an amused laugh
caught Wulfsun and Jazai off guard.
“What is it Zier?” the apprentice asked.
He gestured dismissively. “My apologies, but it’s been so long…” he
muttered and turned to address the others with a smile. “I do indeed know
what class he is now,” he revealed and smiled broadly as his gaze settled on
the young Magi. “It has been quite a while since we’ve had a perplexion
amongst us.”
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Though Zier stated his words with the air of someone who expected a rather
shocked reaction from those present, he instead drew an amused look from
Wulfsun and Jazai and a bewildered one from Devol.
“A perplexion?” the boy asked, drew his sword, and rested the blade on
his shoulder. For some reason, having it there brought him confidence. “What
is that? Are you saying I’m weird?”
“No, no, not weird. Special would be more appropriate,” the dryad
responded with a smile the young Magi assumed was supposed to be
calming. Given his rather terse personality until now, however, it seemed
more creepy than comforting.
“Well, if that’s all done and settled,” the commander began, stepped
closer, and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “We can continue with the test
—”
“Now, now, Wulfsun. No need for that, is there?” the scholar interjected.
“There is so much more the boy needs to learn, and he came here for training
if you recall.”
The giant regarded his comrade warily. “Aye, but the whole point of
learning his class was to determine where we should start his training.”
“True, but that’s precious time we are burning,” Zier pointed out and
placed a hand on his chest. “I propose that we begin his training immediately
and I will, of course, lend a hand to—”
“Oh no, you don’t,” the commander snapped, stepped away from Devol,
and jabbed a massive finger into the dryad’s chest. “I see your plan now. You
found something new to play with, and you want to hurry this along for your
sake.”
 The other Templar frowned, grasped the finger, and jerked it aside. “This
is far from ‘play,’ Wulfsun, and I don’t see how this is not beneficial to the
boy. I might have my own interests, true, but that does not mean—”
“The boy is here for training, not to be your study specimen!” the giant
countered and folded his arms obdurately. “He’s only learnin’ this stuff, and
if he’s going to train, he needs to do it right.”
Zier’s scowl deepened and matched the furrowed, angry expression of the
Templar commander. “Honestly, how often do we have a majestic in the
perplexion class? We are not even quite sure what it does, so what use is
there in conventional training right now?”
The two continued to argue and Jazai stood beside the bemused young
Magi. Both boys watched the argument escalate. “So…uh, what’s happening,
exactly?” Devol asked in a low tone that their superiors were unlikely to hear.
“Something you will probably get used to around here,” his companion
admitted and gestured with his head at the bickering Templars. “I’m not
saying Zier and Wulfsun hate each other or anything, but they are different
enough that if they spend too much time around one another, they eventually
butt heads over something.”
“I see…” he replied although it wasn’t entirely true. The opponents
wagged fingers at each other and Wulfsun now looked a tad red in the face.
“So can you tell me what a perplexion is?”
Jazai nodded. “It means you are special, but not in a condescending way.
Although when Zier says it like that, I understand how one might be
confused.” He chuckled and unlatched the book from his belt. “We were
trying to discover your majestic’s power and perplexion is a rare class of
Magic. The fact that the test reacted in such an odd way means you don’t fit
into any of the normal classes, which makes it unique.”
“Oh, that seems logical.” Devol nodded and held his sword up for a
moment to look at it. He released a trickle of Mana and the light began to
float around it. “Is that a good thing?”
“Usually, but I could not tell you outright,” the other boy admitted. “You
see, there are six classes as we know them—conjuration, evocation,
transmutation, divination, manipulation, and constitution.” The apprentice
opened his book and pursed his lips as he glanced at it. “I can give you a
more thorough explanation of each later, but they are an easy way to find out
how your majestic relates to your Mana. For example, a spell or power of the
conjuration class can make something—an item, element, or things like that
—from Mana.”
“I know that one fairly well,” Devol said. “My mother is adept at
conjuration cantrips. But there are only certain things you can make, aren’t
there?”
Jazai nodded. “There are rules and you can’t make something like an
invincible shield or a bow that never runs out of arrows. But since that isn’t
your class, you can learn more about it later.”
“That is true. So what does perplexion mean mine can do?” he asked and
rested the blade tip on the ground.
His companion shrugged. “Well, that’s the tricky thing, isn’t it? Also, it’s
the reason why my typically composed mentor is so excited.”
The two young Magi looked at the arguing Templars again. Zier had
stepped so close that he almost touched Wulfsun’s chest and continued to
argue his position while he tried to slip sly insults past the giant. By the way
the commander narrowed his eyes, however, he noticed each one.
“That’s how he acts when he’s excited?” Devol asked and gestured at the
dryad. “I’d hate to see him angry.”
“Different circumstances.” Jazai sighed and shook his head before he
returned to his book. “Because you're in the perplexion class, you don’t fit
neatly into any of the other classes. It means your power is probably rather
interesting but more difficult to pinpoint and train for.”
“Oh. Well, that is a problem,” he muttered and glanced at his weapon
before he focused on his companion. “So…do you have one?”
“One what?” the apprentice asked and looked up from his book.
“You know,” he responded and shook his sword. “I overheard you talking
about the time you did the test. So does that mean you were trying to see
what majestic you could wield? Or was that only advanced Magi training?”
Jazai smiled and nodded. “Mine is divination,” he revealed, held the open
book tied to his waist, and tilted it toward him. Devol assumed that the magic
within it made it light enough to carry this way when it should have been far
too heavy. “My majestic was one my father found before I was born. It sat in
the vaults here in the order until I arrived. He sent me a letter to personally
congratulate me on being the one to claim it. Divination is the magic class
that affects the mind or astral plane.” He showed him several lines written in
the pages that he didn’t look at very closely at first.
“Astral plane?” Devol asked and squinted as he focused on the words.
“What is an… Wait, this is about me!” He gasped. Within the tome, he could
see words being written in front of his eyes. The pages showed his full name,
date of birth, and paragraphs mentioned details of his life, his practice in
swordsmanship, his wins in foot races with other children, his favorite meals,
and even his best stories.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” the apprentice asked with a smile. “The more I
get to know someone, the more I am able to tap into their memories and my
majestic can probe more deeply into their minds. Usually, I can only learn
things they are thinking about in the moment or pieces of information that are
ingrained in them—like their name, personality type, things like that. The
more I am around them and the more they let their guard down, the more my
book can discover.”
“My guard down?” He considered that for a moment and decided to try
something. Without saying anything, he drew out his Anima again as he
followed the words being written. They began to slow. The record of the
memory of going into the Emerald Forest outside Monleans with his mother
changed to a description of the room and the events that had just taken place.
“A good guess,” Jazai said with a nod. “If your Anima is up, that reduces
my majestic’s ability to ‘discover’ more about you, at least your past. But if
you want to get around it, you have to be thoughtlessly aware.”
“Thoughtlessly aware?” He didn’t quite grasp what the boy meant with
that. “You mean empty my mind?”
“You have the right idea,” his companion agreed. “For example, if you
only focus on what you are doing right now, all I can retrieve is your basic
information and whatever you are doing at this moment. Although it only
works if you aren’t far away.” He turned the page to reveal that it was now
blank before he flipped it back. Some of the words had disappeared, but his
details and some of the memories it had already written down remained. “It
stays unless I erase it or the person or thing dies.”
Devol nodded and felt very uneasy. “That’s honestly terrifying. You
could learn anything you wanted about a person without talking to them.”
Jazai shrugged. “Again, there are rules. It only worked well because you
didn’t have your guard up and I had time to get to know you a little already.
By the way, I only explained this because I feel like we’ll get along if you
stay,” he told him. “Whenever we decide about what your majestic can do,
you’ll want to keep that between you and your allies. In battle, an opponent
knowing your tricks is a huge disadvantage, although I’m sure you can see
that for yourself.”
 “You’re right.” He nodded and smiled at the apprentice. “Thank you.”
“For telling you?” the boy asked.
“For saying you think we’ll get along,” he stated, flipped his sword, and
rested it on his other shoulder. “I think we could be good friends too.”
The apprentice’s eyes widened before he smiled and nodded. “It would be
nice to have someone who is close to my age,” he admitted. “But that all
depends on how long you are gonna be here. Still, those are questions for
later.” He gestured to his book. “I was trying to see if I could learn anything
about your majestic’s ability.”
He pointed to the left page that showed an inked picture of Devol with his
name and basic information written next to it. “I’ve worked with my majestic
over several months, and I have it set so that if I have the chance to learn
about someone, the specifics of their majestic is one of the first things to
come up. Of course, not many people have one so I’m somewhat lacking in
practical experience.” He moved his finger to the section titled Majestic that
read emits a bright, unnatural light. “As you can see, I unfortunately had no
success. If my tome can’t deduce it, my observations are stored so it can
build on them later.”
“Is it because I don’t know much about it?” Devol asked.
“Probably. There have been a couple of times where I’ve discovered
something my target forgot or didn’t know about before. I hoped it would
work like that here, but no such luck.”
The young Magi sighed and his frown returned as he looked at the
Templars, who seemed to have resolved none of their disagreements. “Then it
looks like we’ll all have to find out together,” he stated before he strode
toward the two opponents.
Jazai reached a hand out in an attempt to stop him. “I wouldn’t interrupt
them when they are like—”
“Hey!” he shouted and immediately drew their attention. With his free
hand on his hip, he stared at them and let his exasperation show. “Thank you
for helping me thus far, but I want to know more about this sword and we
won’t find the answers any sooner if you stand here and shout at each other.
So please, can we get back to the tests?”
The apprentice lowered his hands and managed to control a laughing fit
when he saw the perplexed expressions on the two elders’ faces. Zier
coughed into his hand and backed away from Wulfsun, who rubbed the back
of his head sheepishly. “Eh, sorry about that, lad—a civil disagreement
between a couple of old comrades,” the commander muttered in a subdued
tone.
“Quite,” the dryad agreed. “I suppose I was caught up in the excitement.
Majestics are quite rare, and anything in the perplexion class is extremely
rare and I wanted to— Oh, it does not matter at the moment.” He turned to
Devol and nodded. “You are right. We need to learn more about your ability
before we can get any real work done. And the next part of the test should at
least provide us with a starting point.”
“Which was exactly my point,” the giant Templar muttered. His comrade
darted him an irritated look.
“Wonderful, then let’s get to it!” the boy exclaimed and thumped his fist
against his chest. “So what’s the next part?”
Wulfsun placed his hands on his waist. “We’ll head into the arena so you
can show us your skill, and you’ll get to try your majestic in a more…hmm…
visceral setting.”
“I’d like that,” he said with an eager nod. “So will I spar with a beast or
something?”
“He has been called that before.” Zier snickered and the commander cast
him an angry look.
“Context is important there, scholar,” the giant retorted and turned to the
boy. “But I’ll give you better than some beastie. boyo. Your opponent”—he
placed a thumb against his chest plate and gave him a broad, toothy grin
—“will be yours truly!”
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I have to slay you?” Devol asked and stared at the Templar, his eyes wide.
“That seems like it could be…awkward.”
“You don’t have to slay me, boy.” Wulfsun sighed and shook his head.
“I would not mind it,” Zier mumbled loudly enough for the Templar
commander to hear.
“Shut yer trap,” he retorted and looked at the boy again. “It’s only a
sparring match. We’ll try to see if using your majestic will provide more
information in battle.”
“It’s a chance to see what your power might be,” the dryad added as he
bound the hefty tome Jazai had retrieved for him previously with a length of
leather around the waist of his robes.
“Aye, that too.” The giant thumped his chest with one of his hands. “Take
this match as an opportunity to go all out. We’re here to see how far you’ve
come until now.”
Jazai lowered his head down and whispered to Devol. “Gonna spoil the
big secret here. The test isn’t to determine whether you’re worthy to join the
Templars or not.”
“It’s to see how strong I am, right?” he responded. “Where I need to
focus my training?”
The apprentice nodded and straightened. “So you caught on?”
“Yeah. I’ve heard them saying things like that for the last little while,” he
replied. “It’s been so much process, but my ears are sharp.”
Wulfsun clapped sharply. “All right, are you ready, boyo?” he asked
eagerly.
Devol nodded and pointed to him. “Will you use your majestic as well,
Wulfsun?”
The Templar smirked. “Of course. I can’t make this too easy. There
would be no point to it if I did.”
“So do you need to go and get it first?” he asked.
“No need.” The commander shook his head and his smirk became a broad
grin. “I’ve almost always got it on me.”
“Oh, can I see it?” he asked and scrutinized him to see where he might
have strapped it on his person.
“You’ll see it soon enough.” The chuckle that followed seemed a little
ominous. “Come along now.”
Wulfsun marched past the boys and back to the outer room with Zier on
his heels. The two young Magi soon caught up and Devol wondered what the
man’s majestic could be. He’d said he already had it on him and it could be
any number of things. Vaust’s was a kama and a rather ornate one at that.
He did mention that they typically had an elaborate look about them, and
looking at the large man now…well, it certainly wasn’t his coat. He noticed
his gauntlets—black with an intricate, looped pattern in gold. His thoughts
returned to the wildkin girl he had seen earlier. She also used some type of
gauntlet or gloves and when she attacked, she seemed to strike with invisible
claws of some kind. So the gauntlets were a possibility but unless he knew
what they did, he had little opportunity to prepare.
Before he realized it, they had left the spire. Wulfsun pushed a massive
pair of doors and they opened into a large dirt arena. A couple of stairways
led to a large platform above and Zier and Jazai ascended the right side.
“Good luck, Devol,” the apprentice said as he turned and gave him a
thumbs-up. “We have good healers, so don’t be afraid to go all out.”
The boy nodded and returned the gesture. “That’s good. I don’t have to
worry about hurting Wulfsun too badly then.”
Zier snickered as the commander smirked. “If the boy didn’t sound so
earnest, I would say he was mocking me.”
The young Magi discarded his pack at the edge of the entrance to the
arena and moved to the right side as his opponent went left. His focus settled
into calm and he swung the blade a few times to make sure he had acclimated
to it. While it still felt entirely natural to wield it, he was again amazed by
how weightless it felt to him given that it was much longer than the other
weapons he was used to.
Satisfied, he faced Wulfsun, who had undone his jacket and tossed it
aside to reveal a large chest plate with a similar pattern to his gauntlets. The
giant crouched, clapped sharply, and extended his arms. “All right, boyo.
Whenever you are ready, come at me with everything you’ve got!”
Devol nodded and held his blade with both hands on the grip. When he
looked at the massive Templar now, he felt a little of the intimidation he had
experienced earlier when he first saw him stride across the bridge. The man’s
expression didn’t contain even a hint of anger or even seriousness, but rather
a confident smirk and even a tinge of eagerness for battle. It made him realize
again how gigantic he was, not only in stature but in sheer presence.
Despite this, he straightened, focused on his target, and let his Anima
come forth. Wulfsun nodded approvingly and mirrored him. His shimmered a
bright yellow-and-white. It was as wide as Vaust’s had first felt and not as
oppressive but certainly fierce. The young Magi drew his blade to the side.
He did not know what to expect from his opponent, but he had to be careful.
Even if he was a simple brawler, a man his size combined with a Mana-
infused strike would be enough to end this test very quickly.
Devol drew in a long, quiet breath and let his arms lower very briefly
before he attacked the Templar. When he was a few yards away, he leapt to
the side and struck at Wulfsun’s left arm. His adversary reacted with ease and
merely raised his hand so his gauntlet blocked the blow, but Devol had
feinted and now spun in place and swung so his strike aimed at the giant’s
chest.
His sharp ears heard a chuckle from the commander when his blade met
the armor. He slid back while he checked the chest plate with narrowed eyes.
Surprisingly, he couldn’t see a single scratch so it must be fairly durable. But
from what he had been told, a majestic could destroy even exotics.
Calmly, he stopped his slide and used the momentum to sprint forward as
he drew his arm back to thrust the sword toward the Templar’s head.
Wulfsun brought his right gauntlet to block but it seemed unlikely that it
would be enough—it was not a shield after all. This assumption proved
erroneous when the tip of his blade struck the gauntlet and it refused to budge
an inch more.
The boy’s eyes widened as he landed and glanced at his opponent, who
extended his palm and prepared to swipe. He ducked and a meaty hand
whistled above his head with a rush of air. Without pause, he stepped back as
he took his blade in both hands again and used Vis to summon as much Mana
as he could in a short time. His opponent was unknown so he needed to test
how much abuse the Templar could take before he showed even a hint that he
would give. He brought his blade to the side before he swiped it again.
Wulfsun blocked it with both gauntlets and a loud crash sounded through the
arena. Zier and Jazai’s robes billowed from the wind kicked up by the impact
and dust flurried around the two combatants.
When it settled, Devol strained against the commander’s defense. He
noticed that his blade chafed against the metal of the man’s gauntlets,
lowered his sword, and took a few steps back as he breathed deeply and
narrowed his eyes. “It’s the armor itself, right?” he asked and his Mana
flowed in his eyes. “That’s your majestic, isn’t it?”
The man’s smirk returned. “Aye, you’ve got it,” he replied and
straightened. “But it protects more than only that.”
The truth soon became clear. Now that he had collected himself and used
Vello to analyze his opponent, he could see that his Mana was centered on
the chest plate and gauntlets but flowed out from there to his body as a
whole. From the top of his head to his feet, it enveloped him in what
appeared to be a full-body suit of armor created from his Mana.
“It looks almost exactly how Anima looked on Mr. Lebatt,” he noted and
focused on the brighter light from the armor itself. “But it’s more solid. I
should have noticed even before we started the match.”
“You did rush in a little too fast,” Wulfsun agreed. “But see here, boyo,
this isn’t the typical defense Anima provides. It is far stronger than anything
you are used to—which I would assume is not very much given that you only
discovered it a day ago.” He chuckled and regarded him with kindly
amusement. “I guess I should be a little sporting since I know your class and
all, however much good that does me.” He gestured toward himself with his
thumb. “My majestic falls into the constitution class—the one the scholar
refers to as the ‘boring’ one.”
“I typically say basic to be more polite,” Zier interjected and beside him,
Jazai sighed.
“Constitution is about pushing your Mana beyond the limits of normal
Magic. You don’t get many of the special tricks of the other classes but you
can use your natural talents in ways they couldn’t without decades of
training.” He flexed his arms and the yellow light condensed even further to
coat his entire body in a sheet of Mana. “In my majestic’s case, it can create
armor tougher than almost any material out there, but don’t think it is only a
shiny suit of armor.” He held one arm up and clenched his fist. Mana began
to swirl around it. “With every physical strike you have given me so far, my
majestic has absorbed some of that impact.”
Devol retreated a few steps and watched in astonishment as the man’s
already large arms began to expand and grew even more substantial. “And I
can take that force and use a little of it myself.” He swung his arm back as he
took a massive step forward. “I hope you are ready for a demonstration.”
The boy raised his sword to guard as the Templar launched his fist
forward. Even though he was several feet away, a force pounded into his
blade, thumped the flat side into his chest, and hurled him back several feet
and almost knocked the wind out of him. When he was able to touch the
ground again, he tried to scrape his feet along the dirt to slow himself but was
only able to lessen the impact slightly when he inevitably careened into the
back wall of the arena.
Wulfsun placed his fists on his hips and laughed loudly. “Ha! You really
came at me, boyo! I only added a little of my strength to that punch. Most of
that was the energy you gave me. I recommend you try something a little
different with your next attack. You’re beating yourself up here.”
“Would this be considered Wulfsun bullying the new kid?” Jazai asked as
he leaned against the railing and frowned.
“He’s getting too into it,” Zier responded. “It’s not very surprising, of
course. The boy has tremendous natural talent and shows advanced skill in
swordsmanship for his age, but that won’t be enough for him to win against
someone like Wulfsun.”
“Are you saying he has a chance otherwise?” the apprentice questioned
with a furrowed brow.
The dryad shrugged, adjusted the cuffs of his robe, and brushed off some
of the dirt that had been kicked up by the giant Templar’s assault. “Under
normal circumstances, not a chance in the hells. Wulfsun is among the top
warriors in the order, which would make him one of the top warriors in this
realm and a good many of the others.”
“You have to be leading to a ‘but’ at some point,” Jazai remarked.
“However…” Zier began.
His apprentice rolled his eyes. “Cheeky bastard.”
“Devol’s majestic class is a perplexion, and since we don’t know what
that exactly entails…well, I cannot say for certain if it is impossible.”
“Well, that is neat and all.” The boy looked at the young Magi, who had
scrambled to his feet and now rubbed his left shoulder. “But he needs to use
it for it to make a difference. And since he doesn’t know what it does and
only learned about all this in general not too long ago, it is still a very tall
order.”
“So do you think this is a pointless exercise?” the scholar asked and
regarded him with interest.
Jazai smiled. “Not at all. I think it is exciting and want to get all the
details right. It could make a fun story someday.”
“Humph.” Zier snorted and returned his focus to the arena. “You sound
like you want to make a bet.”
The apprentice laughed, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed. What are
you in for?”
“I won’t do your chores for you,” the dryad replied and smoothed the
neckline of his robe. “Not again.”
“Dammit.”
“So, you coming at me again there, boy?” Wulfsun goaded, his fists
clenched. “I’ll tell you right now, I won’t merely defend against your attacks
from here on out.”
Devol had already assumed that. He shook his head to clear it and hefted
his blade again. While he would not be able to match Wulfsun with sheer
force, he had been sure of that even before the fight. His real purpose was to
test his majestic’s power, so maybe he should focus on that rather than on
what he knew he couldn’t do. He looked at the sword and stilled his mind. It
offered no hint of what its ability was—aside from simply looking appealing
—but he would never find out if he didn’t try.
He held the blade skyward and concentrated. Wulfsun and the others
watched as the glowing white light enveloped the sword and it expanded
dramatically and became a vast, sky-touching blade of light at least fifteen
feet tall. The massive Templar’s smirk did not disappear but his armor began
to strengthen reflexively in anticipation.
“So you finally brought it out proper, eh?” he remarked, hunkered down
again, and spread his arms. “Very well then. I said this at the start, but now
maybe you’ll understand what I meant. Come at me with everything you’ve
got!”
The boy lowered the blade to chest height and held it in front of him. The
dust at his feet began to swirl around him as he took a step forward. It was
time to see what his sword could truly do. He walked forward slowly before
he uttered a challenging roar and lunged forward to swing the blade of light
at the Templar.
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The light of Devol’s blade began to fade and he breathed heavily as he tried
to peer through the dust that swirled around the arena. Zier waved his hands
and Jazai shielded his eyes, although he tried desperately to find a way to
peek through the haze to see what had happened.
The boy brought his sword in front of him defensively and waited for
Wulfsun’s reaction. He was not sure what had happened to the commander,
but he imagined that if the attack was as powerful as it felt and looked, he
would be mightily pissed if he was still standing.
A spark of yellow light caught his attention before the dust blew out of
the center of the arena, past him or into the air. He raised a hand to stop the
dirt from getting into his eyes, but after a few moments, he peered through
the cracks between his fingers. The Templar stood strong in the same position
where he had been before, utterly unmoved. He cursed under his breath. Had
his assault accomplished nothing? Was his majestic nothing more than a
sword with a fancy type of light?
Jazai grimaced and leaned against the railing again. “Damn, was that
nothing more than sparkles and prayer?” He drew a deep breath. “I know we
still aren’t sure what it does and Devol isn’t properly trained yet, but it looked
impressive, at least.”
“Just because it did not have the reaction you expected does not mean it
did nothing at all,” Zier responded, his head inclined slightly as he observed
Wulfsun.
“What do you mean?” the apprentice asked and looked from his mentor
to Devol. “Did I miss something?”
“It appears the attack did not harm Wulfsun in any physical way,” the
scholar said, his expression thoughtful as he stroked his chin. “But that look
on his face is not one of anger or even disappointment. He looks almost…
rattled?”
Jazai stared at the giant Templar, who stood firm with his arms folded
again. He took a moment to study his face and scrutinize his features. Zier
was right. He did not know him as well as his mentor did, but from what he
could see, Wulfsun did have an odd expression. Most wouldn’t say rattled
perhaps, but he did look a tad confused, even if it seemed he tried to mask it
behind a façade of indifference.
Although the man stood motionless, he considered everything that had
happened in silence. He felt lighter and heavier at the same time. For a very
brief moment, it had felt like his Anima had almost given way. He took stock
of his Mana. It had certainly drained although not by much. Perhaps he’d
charged his armor a tad too much. No, he would have noticed something as
obvious as that. And something else was missing too—the power his armor
had siphoned from the boy’s strikes. He had used most of it while showing
off before, but some had remained and he could no longer feel it.
Devol also thought things over—and most importantly, what he should do
next. He had accomplished something with that attack. While he was
certainly more fatigued now than a moment before and his Mana was weaker,
it appeared that whatever he had done was ineffective.
Should he simply go on the offensive again? Maybe the strike did do
something to Wulfsun and it was not obvious. Perhaps he had created an
opening he should exploit. But if he was wrong and the Templar kept his
word about not holding back, he would find himself most likely pounded into
the dirt very shortly. What should he do now?
“Is that it, boyo?” the commander roared and snapped him out of his
thoughts. “Unless you got something else to try, I’ll be coming for ya soon
enough!”
If his strike had done something, it sure as hell was not enough to deter
the Templar. Devol glanced at his blade and contemplated setting it down. In
sparring matches with his father and friends, it was a sign of respect to know
when one had been bested. It meant you had that much more time to train.
But seeing the man’s bravado, he felt he probably would not take it that way.
“You’re taking an awfully long look at that sword there,” Wulfsun noted
and stroked his beard as he arched an eyebrow. “You do realize what it is,
right?”
 Devol looked at him. He wanted to say he knew and that was what he had
spent all that time learning. But then he realized that more often than not, he
referred to it as a blade or sword in his head. It certainly was meant to look
and feel like that, but a majestic was far more than that. Maybe his power
didn’t work right because he didn’t use it correctly.
“Starting to dawn on ya, then?” Wulfsun asked with a snicker. “One of
the things we’ll need to train you in is to not be read so easily. A majestic is
more than whatever item it happens to take the form of. It is the channel of
your power to grant abilities far beyond what almost anyone is capable of. It
is a majestic!” He pointed a large finger at him. “Take note of the name, boy,
and focus.”
The boy looked at the weapon in his hands. He could summon the light
easily enough, but he could do that even with a regular sword and a cantrip. If
he wanted to take advantage of having a majestic, he should use it in a
different way. He held it aloft and brought the light forth again.
“He’s going to try another big swipe?” Jazai sounded exasperated.
“Maybe something clicked?”
“You still need to work on patience,” Zier noted and gestured at the
young combatant. “Watch closer.”
Devol watched the light form around the blade but this time, he did not
simply let it spool around the edges. Instead, he did his best to reach out to it
and draw it in. The light responded to this desire and began to flow into it to
course through it, consume it, and become the blade itself.
His mouth gaped as he stared at the sword now made from the light inside
it. He held it out in front of him, examined it, and watched as the light danced
through the blade. It shimmered in his hands and while it looked incredibly
fragile at a glance, it felt like something so much more—far beyond any
cantrip he had seen cast before and even different than Wulfsun’s armor. He
finally understood why Zier and the others had shown such an interest in it.
“Well, it certainly looks pretty,” Wulfsun taunted. “But unless your plan
is to distract your opponent with a shiny toy, it won’t be much good if you
don’t put it to use.”
Devol moved his gaze from the blade to the Templar and responded with
a small nod. “I agree,” he answered, took the weapon in both hands, and
adjusted his stance to indicate that he was prepared to attack. “Once more,
Wulfsun!”
“Aye, there you go!” his opponent bellowed and bent his knees as he
clapped once. When he opened his hands, an orb of yellow light appeared
that began to grow and surround him. “This defense of mine is absolute,” he
declared and the barrier around him shimmered. “I can’t move while I keep
this in place but nothing has ever broken through. Think you can be the first,
boyo?”
Devol’s response was to swing his sword back as he leaned forward and
prepared to charge. He stared at the man, who returned his gaze with his
now-familiar smirk. In silence, he inched forward rather than initiate a
running attack. His focus remained on keeping the light in place, but now that
it filled in the entire blade, it seemed to fit naturally.
It felt right to see what it was capable of. His pace increased and soon, he
pushed into a full sprint. He did not yell or utter a challenge but surged
toward his adversary’s barrier with all the zeal he could muster.
Wulfsun placed his hands against the barrier as the boy approached and
drew a deep breath. Now that the light-created weapon bore down on him, he
felt more apprehension than he had when the blade was double his size. The
boy planted his feet just short of him and drove the blade toward the barrier
to strike it dead center. A blast of light flared from the sword and his shield
turned a brighter yellow.
“By the Astrals, that is bright!” Zier yelled and Jazai shielded his eyes as
he squinted to see who was winning through the flurry of light and Mana
around the combatants.
The young Magi’s majestic remained thrust firmly against the front of the
magical barrier. The shield remained a deep yellow color where the weapon
had struck, and the area around it glowed a slightly less bright yellow hue.
Devol continued to press the blade forward and took a couple of steps so the
weapon was positioned against his ribs, which enabled him to press it harder
against his opponent’s resistant magic.
The Templar was surprised by the power he faced and even struggled a
little. Not only could he feel the blade push slowly into his shield, but the
entire front half of his barrier also felt like it was under strain. He had been
able to withstand cannons, giant monsters, and all manner of different
weapons with this defense and a simple sword thrust shouldn’t cause it to
buckle like this.
He attempted to use his Mana to strengthen it as much as he could, but
using it already took an immense amount of concentration to maintain and
stretched his Anima to its limits. There wasn’t much Mana to spare for
repairs and reinforcing his defense at this point. He looked through the
blinding light at the boy, who continued to press his attack. The young Magi
gritted his teeth with more determination than he had seen in an adversary in
some time.
If the blade pushed through, he wasn’t in any position to avert its strike
quickly and it was pointed directly at his chest. It was somewhat
disconcerting. If it could wreak havoc on his shield, he did not want to
imagine what it would do to his insides.
Devol could feel the weapon digging with relentless slowness into
Wulfsun’s barrier and was determined to persist with the pressure.
Everything he had been taught about majestics rushed through his head. They
responded to his desires and were an extension of himself. If that were true, it
would not buckle before he did and he would not let that happen until he
showed the commander everything he had.
Quickly, he moved his bottom hand over his top, pressed both against the
top edge of the handguard, and finally bellowed another resolute challenge
and pushed with everything he had left. The blade of the majestic dug in
deeper and cracks appeared in the shield. His opponent began to back away a
little and Devol took a large step back before he lunged forward and drove
the blade through. The resistance shattered and he took another step and
maintained his momentum with a forward thrust to pierce his opponent’s
chest plate.
The giant clasped his meaty hands together and with a roar, pounded his
gauntlets into the blade. His attack was powerful enough to force the weapon
toward the ground and it dug into the dirt. The boy gasped in shock and
stepped back to draw the blade out, but Wulfsun looked at him, his fists still
clenched together, and swung them to catch him in the chest. The majestic
was yanked out of the dirt and the young Magi was catapulted several feet.
He almost flipped entirely before he plummeted to a hard landing. His
weapon landed a few feet away from him.
Devol coughed a few times before he grimaced and tried to catch his
breath. He wiped the dirt from his face as he retrieved his sword, planted the
blade into the dirt, and held it by the grip to use it as a support to help him to
clamber to his feet. When he managed to stand, he looked at the Templar,
breathing deeply. The man’s ragged breaths were as labored as his were,
although he stood firm with his arms folded again.
“So…” he began as he removed the blade from the dirt and held the
weapon firmly in both hands, “did I pass?”
Wulfsun was silent for a moment before he looked down, his shoulders
shaking. Devol could hear him stifle a chuckle before the man dropped the
act and released a loud laugh that echoed throughout the arena. “You are
certainly something, Devol!” he responded and laughed again. “That wasn’t
exactly one of my strongest attacks, but it should have been more than
enough to leave a kid like you on the ground for longer than that.”
The young Magi responded with a faint smile. “I can be stubborn, I
guess,” he admitted and began to chuckle a little as well.
“Aye, but you are the best kind of stubborn,” the giant replied. He nodded
and lowered his arms to reveal a large hole in the chest plate of his armor.
With a grimace, he slid his hand under the plate and when he removed it, the
fingers were stained with blood.
Thankfully, this seemed like a good time to end the bout. The damage to
his majestic had left him drained and a little disoriented, but he’d had years in
which to learn how to hide it from his foes and push past it. “I can say this
with confidence—had this been a test to join the Templars, you would have a
ceremony this very night.”
Devol nodded happily. “Thanks, Wulfsun,” he said before he stumbled
and fell heavily. He dragged in a couple of large gasps of air as he smiled
warmly, held his majestic firmly, and hoisted it high. “I’m glad I made it.”
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Well, that was certainly a grand finale,” Jazai said and beamed as he pushed
off the railing and folded his arms. “Do you think we should get down there
and congratulate him?”
“I would think so,” a deep and appealing voice replied. The two
spectators turned to where Vaust stood behind them. “Battling Wulfsun and
pushing him that far certainly deserves praise.”
“So you finally caught up?” the apprentice asked and nodded to the mori
Templar. “I would have thought you would have had more interest in how
this went, given that you brought him in from what I heard.”
“I was optimistic,” the new arrival responded, moved past them, and
leaned on the railing. “Plus, I already had a taste of what he is capable of, so
my opinion wasn’t that important.”
“You wanted everyone else to have a look?” Zier asked and studied him
with interest.
“The boy made an impression on me. I wanted to see if he could do the
same with others,” Vaust admitted with a shrug. “I had to make a report
anyway.”
“So you went to speak to Nauru?” The scholar nodded as he clasped his
hands behind his back. “And how is she? It’s been a while since she’s left her
chambers.”
The mori gestured to where the combatants were in conversation. “You
can ask her when she’s done.”
“Hmm?” Zier and Jazai returned to the rails and their eyes widened as a
figure in flowing blue, white, and silver robes walked into the arena.
“You all right there, Devol?” Wulfsun asked and proffered a hand to help
him up.
The boy nodded a little wearily as he accepted the aid, and the Templar
hoisted him to his feet. “That was a good match.”
“Hopefully, we can have a few more!” he responded and clapped him
cheerfully on the back with sufficient force to almost upend him again.
“You should ask him that after he has properly rested, Commander
Wulfsun,” a soothing, airy voice replied. The giant looked toward its source
and his eye widened. Devol glanced at what had surprised him and his gaze
settled on a feminine figure dressed in elegant robes, but her features caught
his attention more than anything else.
Her skin was like the smooth texture of a leaf, the color a light, gleaming
blue with streaks and patches of pink around her neck and arms. When she
looked from the Templar to the new Magi, her eyes danced with teal-colored
embers. She did not seem to have normal lips. Instead, the area around her
mouth slanted and protruded from the rest of her face when she spoke, but
when she was silent, they flattened to give her face an almost mask-like
appearance. Her hair—a dark-blue that changed to a brighter pink at the tips
—was like vines twisted together into a large bundle that reached her lower
back.
“Grand Mistress Nauru!” Wulfsun stated and bowed his head slightly.
“It’s good to see ya after so long.”
Nauru chuckled and her eyes glowed brighter with real mirth. “I need to
make rounds more regularly. You act as if I’ve been away on a mission.” She
glanced at Devol for a moment before she returned her focus to the giant.
“I’ve told you to not be so formal, Commander. I think you’re worrying our
new guest.”
He raised his head to fix her with a small frown. “You’re gonna call me
by my title, but it’s unnecessary to call you by yours?” he grumbled and
shook his head “Right, well, I should at least be civil, I suppose, as befits the
Templars.”
“Oh, certainly.” She nodded, focused on the boy, and smiled. “You
should have begun by introducing this young Magi.”
“Of course.” He placed his hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “This is
Devol…uh…” He darted a glance at the newcomer, who mouthed his last
name. “Alouest, right! Devol Alouest. Devol, this is Nauru, the thirty-second
leader of the Templars.” He spoke heartily before he patted him on the
shoulder, shook him a little, and moved his hand away. “He seeks training
with our order.”
“Devol?” Nauru asked and extended a hand. “A pleasure to meet you,
young Magi.”
The boy looked into the warm glow of her eyes and took her hand. “It’s
an honor, Grand Mistress,” he replied.
She chuckled again. “No need for that as I just reminded the captain.” She
squeezed his hand for a moment before she released it and her hands
vanished into the folds of her long robes. “Devol—that sounds like ‘devil,’”
she stated and her gaze darted to the side as she considered the idea. “I
thought humans considered devils to be dark creatures or of ill omen.”
“Uh, that’s normally right,” Wulfsun agreed and ran a hand through his
shaggy mane. “I didn’t question it much. He’s from Monleans and they have
different interpretations of—”
“It’s ‘loved’ backward,” Devol interjected. “My father said before I was
born that any child of his would probably be a little devil—like,
rambunctious and all. My mother said she did not think it was funny but
when she made the connection, she liked the name and it stuck. I haven’t had
too many problems with it.”
“I see.” Nauru’s eyes flickered briefly. “That is an adorable story.”
“Madame Nauru, may I ask a question?” he ventured.
“What is it?” she responded,
He pointed to her. “Are you a fleuri?”
She smiled sweetly again. “That I am indeed. Is this your first time seeing
one?”
“Kind of—certainly my first time meeting one,” he admitted. “I thought I
saw one a few years ago in the Emerald Forest outside Monleans during the
fall. He was purple—that means he was born in the wintertime, right?”
“Indeed, although we use the term ‘bloomed’ instead of born,” Nauru
explained and shifted her gaze to the sky as she continued. “The colors of
green, white, and pink are for spring, the summer shades are red, tan, and
gold, autumn’s are orange, yellow, and brown and, of course, winter is blues,
silver, and purple. I bloomed on the cusp of winter and spring and so
inherited the colors of both about one-hundred and forty-one years ago.”
“Wow, you’re so pretty,” he marveled before he caught himself and
slapped his cheeks in irritation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right, child,” she said with a giggle. “I’m glad you think so. I am
also glad that we can learn a little about each other so soon.”
Devol grinned, relieved that she hadn’t been offended. “Me too. Feel free
to ask me anything you like. I did come to your order, after all.”
“Very kind of you,” Nauru responded. “I do have a question if you have
the time.”
“Certainly. We’ve finished the tests—right, Wulfsun?” he asked the
Templar captain, who nodded.
“I caught the end of the sparring match, and you certainly gave it your
all,” she remarked with amusement. “You seem gifted, Devol, but tell me,
what caused you to search us out?”
“Let me show you.” He stretched toward his backpack where it had been
dropped at the entrance of the arena. It elevated and he pulled it toward him.
However, it appeared that his fight with the giant had drained him of much of
his Mana so the bag floated only a few feet before it stopped. When he
overcompensated with a heave of his Mana, it streaked into his chest and
knocked him off his feet and away from the two Templars.
“Ow.” He coughed as he sat and patted the dust out of his hair before he
retrieved the map.
“It’s all right, boy. I’ll fill her in,” Wulfsun stated with a thumbs-up.
“Leave the map and go catch up with the others. I’m sure they want to
congratulate you.”
Devol nodded and managed to muster sufficient strength to scramble to
his feet and approach Nauru. He bowed to her, gave the man the map, and
retrieved his majestic before he hurried to the stairs.
Jazai was the first to greet him and held his hand up for him to slap. “Nice
work out there!” he congratulated him as they slapped each other’s palm.
“You got your majestic working for you now, huh?”
“I guess so,” he said, although his tone was hesitant. “I’m still not entirely
sure what it does but it helped me to get through Wulfsun’s shield, at least.”
“Certainly more than merely a flashlight, isn’t it?” Vaust asked.
“Mr. Lebatt!” He recognized the mori and approached him quickly. “Did
you see the match too?”
“I came in with the grand mistress,” he stated. “I did see you push
through Wulfsun’s barrier. I’m sure he gave you the spiel about it being
impenetrable and all that?”
 “Yeah, he said no one ever made it through before,” Devol recalled.
Vaust chuckled and leaned back, his expression amused. “He likes to do a
little grandstanding but he is not wrong. The few times I have been with him
when he has used it in combat, nothing ever made it through. Assaults
certainly knocked him around somewhat and cracked it, but nothing ever
broke it. You’ve accomplished a first and been here for only one day.”
“It is a fascinating development,” Zier said, his curious gaze on the
majestic. “And that was on its own. We should probably see if Macha can
hammer something together for him quickly.”
“It is a tad early to be thinking of modifications. Besides, Wulfsun will
probably need to see her first,” the mori reminded him. “But we are getting
ahead of ourselves, Zier. That is something for those who are in the order and
Devol has not made his mind up on that so we shouldn’t rush it.” He turned
to the boy and raised an eyebrow. “Unless something has changed since I last
saw you?”
The young Magi considered the question. Everything that had happened
had been very different than he had expected. He had seen the recruits train
with the guardsman. In fact, they did not even start sparring until after a few
weeks of basic swordsmanship training, and that was usually still instruction.
Here, everyone seemed so nice and they treated him as a comrade. Of
course, Wulfsun and the other elders referred to him as “boy” or something
akin to that, but it seemed friendly rather than demeaning. He looked at the
majestic in his hand. While he did plan to have a life of adventure and
protecting people, this seemed like a huge step to take on a whim, even a
positive one.
He looked into the arena, where Wulfsun and Nauru were deep in
conversation as they studied the map. “Can I ask the grand mistress
something first?” he inquired.
Vaust looked at Zier and both shrugged. “I’m sure she would have no
objection to that. Go ahead,” the mori replied.
The boy hurried down the stairs with Jazai on his heels. The two
Templars watched them, their expressions thoughtful. “If he stays, that will
make three young recruits,” the scholar noted. “The most we’ve had for quite
some time.”
“That’s certainly true. It is usually older Magi following tales of better
times, seeking redemption, or merely trying to find a new home,” his
comrade replied and smiled as the boys approached Nauru without hesitation.
“Like you were at one point.”
The dryad turned away. “As I recall, so were you.”
“Also true,” Vaust said without rancor, “but I’ve been here for quite a
while now.” He chuckled as he lost himself briefly in memories. “This is my
only home, truly.”
“Hey, Miss Nauru,” Devol called. The grand mistress and Wulfsun turned
to look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have another question if you don’t
mind.”
“And what is that, young Magi?” she asked.
He took a moment to put the words together. “I originally wanted to come
here only for training, but I like everyone I’ve met so far and I think I can
gain more than originally thought by studying with you.”
“I believe the same,” she agreed and glanced at the templar beside her.
“And from what the commander has said, he believes so as well.”
The giant placed a fist against his chest. “Aye, and we have to have
another match after that last one!”
“Right, so I thought…” He paused to take a breath. “I…may want to join
the order someday. But I can’t say right now.”
Nauru nodded reassuringly. “That is perfectly all right. It is a difficult
decision for one so young.”
“But I want to help,” the boy declared. “I met Mr. Lebatt on a mission he
was finishing. If there is anything like that I can do, let me know. I want to be
able to help while I stay here and train. Maybe that way, I’ll gain
understanding of what the Templars do and it will make the decision easier.”
Both Nauru and Wulfsun seemed slightly taken aback by this, but they
were certainly more interested than perplexed. She pressed her fingers
together, closed her eyes, and lowered her head in thought. “It is very
gracious of you, Devol. I see how that could benefit both of us.” She opened
her eyes and looked at both boys. “As it happens, I think there could be a
little errand you two could run together.”
“Both of us?” Jazai asked and his head jerked to look at his companion
before he returned his gaze to meet hers. “Me too?”
“Yes. I think you have something to gain from this as well, Jazai,” she
stated with a grin.
The apprentice tilted his head to the side before he shrugged. “It has been
a while since I’ve been out of the castle. But if Zier throws a fit, I’ll send him
to you, madame.”
 “Noted.” She chuckled and looked toward the arena’s entrance.
“Perhaps…I think it would be best if the three of you went.”
The boys looked at one another in confusion and in unison asked, “Three
of us?”
 C H A P T E R S E V E NT E E N

Devol and Jazai sat in the middle of the forest arena in the larger training
area, brought here by Nauru before she stepped away to talk to some of the
other Templars. She did not leave them unattended, however. They were
joined by a third member, the wildkin girl Devol had noticed earlier and who
had previously been identified to him as Asla. She stared intently at them
despite sitting a good few yards away.
“She seems…” Devol began and peeked quickly at her. She narrowed her
eyes when she saw his glance. “Studious.”
“It’s a polite way to put that, yeah.” The apprentice leaned back on his
hands as he fixed her with an unconcerned look. “Asla, you wanna introduce
yourself or should I have the pleasure?”
Her eyes widened before she shifted her focus from him to the newcomer,
then away. In silence, she stared into the trees.
“I guess that answers that.” Jazai sighed. “Her name is Asla Baghira. She
is a cat wildkin who came to the order more than a year ago, although she has
only recently started training with us. I was here with my pops when she first
arrived,” he explained while she continued to avert her gaze from them. “It
isn’t my place to go into too much detail about her arrival, although I must
confess—even if I am a jerk—that I don’t know much. But I can say she is
another promising student in the order and she’s a few moons younger than
you are.”
“I see.” Devol nodded, stood, and approached her slowly before he
stopped a few feet away and extended a hand. “Hi, Asla, my name is Devol
and—”
“You smell like fish,” she told him, her head still turned away although
she cast him a sideways glance.
“Huh?” He pulled his shirt to his nose to smell it. While most of the fishy
odor seemed to have been filtered by the smoke from the den and sweat from
his fight, very faint traces lingered from the fish they had eaten previously.
“Oh, I guess so. Sorry about that.”
“It’s all right.” She shrugged and looked away again. “I like fish.”
“Oh, that’s good,” he said with a smile as he placed his hands casually
behind his back. “When we go out on the mission, maybe I can catch you
some.”
“So we are going on a mission then?” Asla asked and now turned her full
attention to them.
“It seems that way,” Jazai responded where he still leaned back casually.
“I’m not sure what it is yet, but the grand mistress took Devol up on his offer
to help and somehow, we were roped into it.”
“So who will watch over us?” she questioned and studied the newcomer
again.
Devol shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the mission yet. But you
think we’ll go with someone?”
“That’s how it is usually done,” the apprentice explained. “I have been on
a couple of missions, as has she, but we mostly shadow a real Templar or
deal with the smaller objectives. For us, it’s another way to train.”
“Really?” The young Magi sounded dejected. “I hoped they would let us
take care of it ourselves.”
“Even if they did,” Asla began, brought her knees up to her chest, and
looked at the grass, “it would mean the mission isn’t all that important.”
“But it’s a mission for the Templars,” Devol pointed out. “Doesn’t that
make it important by default?”
Jazai snickered and shrugged in an offhand way. “Technically, I guess so,
but she did call it an ‘errand’ so it shouldn’t be all that big a deal.”
“You should take after your friend more, Jazai,” Nauru said from behind
them as she, Wulfsun, Zier, Vaust, and the wolf wildkin man who had been
training Asla before walked closer. “If you do not wish to participate in the
mission, I’m sure your instructor would be more than happy to find chores
for you to do to pass the time until they return.”
The apprentice pushed hastily to his feet and waved his hands frantically.
“No, no! Nothing like that, madame! I’m merely saying that I don’t think this
will be anything like a hunting mission or something that would require
supervision.”
She nodded. “I see. You are right in a way. This is a retrieval mission, but
that does not make it something to take lightly.” She looked at Devol as she
ushered the wolf wildkin forward. “First, a quick introduction. Devol, this is
Freki Remus, Asla’s mentor in the order.”
The boy hurried closer and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr.
Remus!” he said enthusiastically.
Freki nodded with a small smile. “Pleasure, little pup. It is good to see
another young Magi interested in the order.”
“It has been fun so far,” he replied and looked at Jazai and Asla, then at
Zier and Freki. “So you both have mentors, huh?”
“Most recruits have high-ranking Templars to show them the ropes for a
while,” Wulfsun explained. “Not for too long as most come to us with at least
decent experience. But Asla’s and Jazai’s circumstances are unique.”
“I’m sure we can find you one, should you request it,” Nauru offered.
“But for now, I would like the three of you to take a few days to get well-
acquainted. The others and I will go over the specifics of the mission, and we
will fill you in soon. But it is important to begin building a rapport with one
another as you will rely on each other’s skills and mutual trust for success.”
“So we will be going alone?” Asla asked and almost spooked Devol when
she stepped beside him, having reached his side without a sound.
The grand mistress glanced at Vaust and Wulfsun before she turned to the
youngsters and nodded. “Yes, we believe it will benefit the mission and allow
you to have your first taste of responsibility within the order.”
“I guess you got thrown into the deep end early, Devol,” Jazai remarked
as he elbowed him in the shoulder.
“It’s all right. I’m ready,” he assured him and gave him a thumbs-up. “I
only hope it isn’t too easy.”
“I suppose that all depends on you,” Nauru responded cryptically and
turned away. “For now, use the time to train together. I’ll send Wulfsun this
evening to show you to your quarters, Devol.”
“Right. Thanks, Miss Nauru!” he called as she and the other Templars
began to disappear into the woodland beyond the edges of the arena.
The three watched them for a moment. Asla stretched her arms before she
spun and stepped a few paces away from them. “All right. Should we begin?”
“Going directly into a sparring match?” Jazai asked and rolled his eyes.
“Devol just finished a bout against Wulfsun. I don’t think he can show you
what he’s got right now.”
“Then you and I will train,” she replied, held her hands up, and revealed
sharp nails. “That is what the grand mistress desires, correct?”
“She wanted us to get to know each other,” the apprentice retorted and
folded his arms. “There are other ways to do that besides fighting.”
“It is the most direct method,” Asla replied, although Devol suspected
from her tone that she said this out of defensiveness rather than philosophy.
“Are you bitter that I won our last fight?” Jazai asked with a smirk.
The wildkin bristled at the comment and her eyes narrowed. “And I won
the four before that,” she countered, her gaze challenging. “Besides, that was
only due to your use of tricks.”
The apprentice threw his hands dismissively. “Yeah, I’m a Magi as
technically, we all are. My skills are better suited to cantrips and information
gathering. Not brawn.”
“Are you good with cantrips, Jazai?” Devol asked and pointed his thumb
at himself. “I can only do a couple. I trained mostly in swordplay and Vis.”
“I gathered that much.” The other boy nodded. “Yeah, I never got into a
martial art of any kind. I focused on increasing my Mana control and learning
cantrips. I can perform about fifty of them.”
“Fifty?” He yelped in astonishment. “My mom can do about that many
and she has studied almost all of her life.”
“Well, that’s still impressive if she isn’t an adventurer of any kind,” Jazai
responded as he held a hand out and extended his fingers. “My old man
travels often, and he works in the services of not only the order but also the
academy at home. His majestic isn’t great for direct confrontation, so he
either had to learn a Mana or martial art. He learned all the basic cantrips and
concentrated on the conjuration class cantrips as well.”
“So is his majestic in the conjuration class?” Devol asked
The apprentice shook his head. “Nah, he is a diviner like me. But cantrips
can be learned by anyone, no matter what their natural talent falls into. It is
merely harder outside your class.” He smiled as he extended his other hand.
“If you think me being able to use fifty spells is impressive, he can do about
two hundred—all the conjuration cantrips and some transmutations, and he
has all the upgraded basic ones in the constitution class as well.”
The young swordsman was taken aback. “Man, that is…huh,” he
muttered. It seemed logical that scholars who worked primarily on Mana arts
would know far more than the average person, but that was still amazing,
especially for someone who probably didn’t focus on it for their profession,
merely as a secondary hobby. He looked at Asla, who had lowered her hands
and now stared at them as her tail waved slowly from side to side. “What
about you, Asla?”
The wildkin raised an eyebrow. “Cantrips aren’t my specialty.”
“No, I mean your majestic,” Devol replied and gestured vaguely with his
hand. “Jazai mentioned you had one earlier on the way here.”
“Did he now?” She focused on the young scholar with annoyance and
narrowed her eyes.
“I also saw you training earlier,” he added quickly in an effort to take the
heat off his new friend. “You made a large scratch on the floor like you
attacked it with metal claws or something.”
Asla pursed her lips. “We aren’t supposed to reveal the secrets of our
majestic.”
Jazai sighed and scratched his head. “Yeah, to nobodies and enemies. But
we will be working together soon so he’s an ally.” The girl refused to meet
his gaze and her tail drooped to brush the ground. He grinned a little as he
reached for his book. “I can always simply show him, you know.”
“Don’t you dare!” she snapped and her tail raised almost vertically as she
extended a claw. She composed herself quickly, shook her head, and sighed.
“Fine. Take a look.” She unlatched a pair of dark leather gloves from her belt
and placed them on her hand. Devol noted a set of three claw-shaped stones
on the knuckles of each glove, pure white with small, edged patterns etched
within. “I’m in the constitution class.”
“Like Wulfsun?” he asked. She glared at him and he backed away.
She made a visible effort to relax. “Yes, like the captain. However, my
majestic is not primarily defensive. It helps me tap into my more…
animalistic abilities.”
“Most wildkin majestics are like that,” Jazai explained. “No one seems to
know why, but those that can be traced to the wildkin lands or particular
tribes seem to focus primarily on bringing out the more animal traits of the
wielder. They are probably the only majestic that can be considered a type or
class of their own.”
“Pay attention,” Asla called. Devol startled when she dropped to all fours.
Her irises assumed a sharper and narrower shape and a faint glimmer of
orange Mana similar to the color of her hair flickered around her. Curious, he
used Vis to enhance his sight and observe her and was shocked when an
orange outline formed and took the shape of a large cat.
Before he could ask what it could do, she leapt at him with surprising
speed. He drew his majestic instinctively. The claws on her gloves clashed
with the edge of his blade and the bright light flared instantly. Her eyes
widened as she landed and retreated hastily. “What was that?” she demanded.
“My majestic,” he stated as the light faded and he lowered his sword.
“I felt that…I needed to get away,” she muttered, pushed to her feet, and
shut her majestic down. “What does it do?”
“We don’t exactly know yet,” he replied somewhat sheepishly.
“Don’t know?” She looked at Jazai for an explanation, but he merely
shrugged in response.
“It certainly does something,” the apprentice stated. “He was able to get
through Wulfsun’s big shield with it.”
“Really?” Asla asked, clearly surprised. “Interesting, but if you don’t
know what it does, you are handicapping yourself.”
“I know,” Devol conceded. “That’s why I came here to train and learn
more about it.” He smiled and lifted it again. “Maybe we can find out more
together?”
“Are you sure?” Jazai asked. “Are you still in good enough shape to do
that?”
“I’m not one hundred percent but I still have some energy and Mana to
spare for now. I’m sure Wulfsun will be back soon, so we might as well make
use of the time.”
The other boy shrugged, approached one of the trees, and sat beneath it.
“All right. I’ll watch and make sure neither of you hurt the other too badly.”
“You’ll have to participate eventually,” Asla insisted as she focused on
Devol and brandished her claws.
“No doubt, but I’ll let you two have fun for now.” The apprentice raised a
hand and lowered it quickly. “And go!”
The three youngsters sparred and trained together for a few hours and the
earlier awkwardness between them began to fade as they learned more about
one another. Wulfsun, unbeknownst to them, hadn’t left. He and Freki were
able to conceal themselves in the brush and observe them through the
evening, both happy to see the early signs of a team bond forming between
them.
 C H A P T E R E I G HT E E N

Several days passed and Devol and his new teammates continued to train
together. This was quite different than the normal sword practice and Mana
study he had done at home. Battling a skilled and speedy wildkin and a
talented Magi—who could read his thoughts if he was not careful—had
proven to be a rather interesting and intense experience. In that time, they
awaited word from Nauru on when they were to depart but they had not seen
the grand mistress since the day she put them together.
On the evening of his eighth day at the Templar Order, he followed
Wulfsun, who had asked him to join him after training while Jazai and Asla
went to the dining hall. He complied willingly and asked where they were
going, but the giant said he wanted to keep it a surprise for now but that he
should bring his majestic with him.
They headed to the eastern wing of the castle and passed many rooms and
halls he had yet to see as he’d had no reason to be there until now. In fact,
besides the areas he had seen on his first day there, he had yet to fully explore
the castle. Training filled most of his time and he was given a temporary
room in the scholar’s tower across from Jazai. Although the apprentice
somewhat disdainfully declared that it was less a room and more a refitted
supply closet, it suited Devol for now.
Wulfsun opened a large metal door and motioned for him to enter. As
soon as it swung inward, an immense heat issued from within. The boy
walked through and paused, a little surprised by several forges and dozens of
benches and cooling pools positioned in the large space. Numerous pieces of
metal and colored stones in boxes were scattered on the floor or hung on the
walls beside weapons and armor.
 Three dwarves stood in conversation, while a squama moved a box of
supplies quickly across the room. A female daemoni worked at the largest
forge, one equipped with two large rocks of cobalt at the top that seemed to
pump Mana into the flames. Embers threw flurries of red and blue sparks
from the mouth of the furnace.
“This is our blacksmithing operation,” Wulfsun explained and turned to
the boy with a smile. “Come along. I want you to meet the master.”
Devol swallowed the numerous questions that surged within and glanced
at the large Templar. “The master?”
His companion chuckled. “Aye, she’s in charge of arming the order. She
is an expert craftsman. Those rivets during the kinship trial? She made most
of them decades ago and they still function.” He leaned closer and indicated
the young Magi’s sword. “She’s also one of the few smithies who are able to
repair a majestic.”
“Repair a majestic?” he asked. “I thought they repaired themselves.”
“They can over time,” the commander agreed. “But they can be severely
damaged and even broken by certain things, typically in battle with another
majestic. And as you are hopefully aware by now, that is quite a bad thing.
It’s not only a broken weapon but it can inflict injuries on the wielder and
even death in the worst case. If such a thing were to happen, having someone
who can repair a majestic is quite helpful.” The Templar began to walk to the
large forge. “Come along now.”
Devol followed him, momentarily distracted by a couple of other human
blacksmiths making repairs to armor to his left. As they approached the
daemoni, a tall, lithe figure with four arms and four legs stepped from behind
the forge. Ashen-gray skin was marked with what appeared to be red
warpaint on his face, a line down the middle that separated into two lines that
wrapped back to make circles around his large, red eyes.
“I got the exhaust going, boss,” he said to the daemoni, his voice raspy
yet with a pleasant cadence. “Gonna need to swap out the cobalt by tomorrow
night. The shipment is coming in the morning, right?”
“Should be,” the master smith replied, straightened, and stepped away
from the furnace. Her medium-length gray hair was scraped into a bun, her
horns sloped back and curved up, and she was not only redder than the
daemoni he had seen previously, but she was far more muscular as well.
Wulfsun pounded a hand on a nearby table and grinned as she turned her
head to look at him over her shoulder. The four-armed creature waved a
hand. “Hey, Macha, Rogo! How are ya?”
“Captain!” Rogo responded with a delighted shout. “Nice to see you!”
Macha turned fully, folded her arms, and nodded. “Evening Wulfsun.”
Her voice was cool and efficient. She looked at Devol, who bowed slightly
under her gaze. “Is this your new apprentice?”
“Not quite.” The huge Templer settled a hand on his shoulder as if to
calm him. “He would make a good one, though. He fights like a likan.”
Rogo stepped fully from behind the forge area and Devol was shocked by
his size when he moved closer. He was a little shorter than Wulfsun and the
daemoni but stood at least six and a half feet tall. His four knees were bent to
balance him so he might have been taller than both of them at full height. He
stopped a few feet away and gave them a toothy grin as he rubbed his chin
with one hand. The lower two rested on his hips. “So you’re the potential
recruit, eh? I heard you got yourself an interesting majestic there, my new
friend.”
“Introduce yourself properly, Rogo,” the daemoni chided. “The boy
probably isn’t used to seeing realmers like us yet.”
“Ah, you’re right, boss.” He moved forward quickly and proffered a
hand. When the boy took it, he placed his other three hands over their clasped
ones and shook vigorously. “I’m Rogo the smithy. I’m what you humans call
a melian. It’s a pleasure to meet a warrior as young as yourself.” He released
his multiple grasps and pointed at the daemoni with two arms. “And this is
Macha, the master forger in our little camp.”
Macha placed her hands on the table, leaned forward, and focused on the
young Magi. “So, I hear you want me to look at your sword?”
Before Devol could reply, Wulfsun intervened. “Aye, only to see if you
can tell us anything about it. The boy is heading off on a mission in a couple
of days so it’s good to have as much information as possible, yeah?” The
mention of timing surprised the boy and he raised an eyebrow.
“Wait, I am?” he asked.
The Templar looked nonplussed as the realization dawned. “Ah, right. I
forgot to tell you and your mates. I should probably fill them in when we get
to the dining hall.” He shrugged and looked at the master smith. “Macha is
one of the finest smiths I have ever known, period. On top of that, she has
great knowledge of exotics and majestics, at least the known ones.”
“It’s hard to know about things that we don’t know exist,” she muttered
as she turned to tend the forge.
 “Not to mention that she’s training me!” Rogo revealed, stooped so he
was a little closer to Devol’s height, and leaned closer to whisper. “My kind
ain’t the greatest when it comes to using Mana. Only a handful of melian
every couple of decades could forge exotics and magical equipment.” His
smile widened as he thumped his chest with one arm. “I might even have a
gift, you know? Macha says I might be able to repair majestics someday like
she can. You’re looking at the next legendary melian smith right here.”
“You are still some time away from that declaration, Rogo,” Macha
stated. It surprised Devol that she could hear him whisper over the roar of the
forges and banging of metal.
Rogo looked at her with a grin. “I know, boss, but keeping the dream
alive makes me work harder.”
“Then be prepared for the work coming in this week,” she responded.
“We have more orders to fill for the party heading out at the end of the
moon.”
He straightened and clapped all his hands. “Right, boss! I’ll go and get
the choice materials and start the furnace burning!” He ran off quickly,
circled the forge, and vanished into a back room.
“Well then, while he’s doing that…” Macha looked at the boy. “Let me
see your majestic…uh…”
“Devol,” he replied. She arched an eyebrow and looked quickly at
Wulfsun, who simply shrugged. “Cute name,” she said and narrowed her
eyes when she noticed the blade on his back. “Is that the sword?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He undid the strap on his chest and handed the weapon to
her. She unsheathed it and the bright glow illuminated her face. Her alabaster
eyes widened as her gaze settled on the magical blade.
“This is…” She whispered, looked at Wulfsun, and returned her attention
to the young Magi.
“You know about it?” Devol asked.
Her gaze shifted to the captain again, who returned it knowingly. She
nodded as she sheathed the blade. “I know of it—a glowing blade with a star-
like shine. But I cannot say I know much beyond that. There are a number of
vague stories and notes I have come across that mention majestics like that.
It’s interesting to think about but not much is known.” she revealed and
handed it to him as she studied him. “I will have to go through the books to
see if I can find out more. But I have to say that it has been a long time since
I’ve seen someone wield a linked majestic.”
 “Linked?” he asked and frowned at the weapon.
“It’s a majestic that has some kind of attachment to the user,” Wulfsun
explained. “Most are passed down or found and eventually build a bond with
the wielder over time and use. But since you used it to such great effect in our
bout, yours already seems to have connected to you on a much deeper level.”
“And what does that mean for me?” Devol asked as he studied the sword
and recalled the first time it had appeared in the Emerald Forest.
“It means it was destiny for you and it to meet,” Macha told him before
she shrugged and turned away. “Or dumb luck. Some Magi merely have a
certain something—like class proficiency or personality—that a majestic
resonates with and makes the bonding process smoother.”
“But you said it yourself,” the commander replied and pointed at her.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen one like this, right? You haven’t had
many chances to work on a majestic like this, have ya?”
“Which is why I’ve been stuck doing repairs and making simple exotics
for so long,” the daemoni stated and turned her focus to the weapon. “I
suppose I have something to look forward to eventually.” She looked at
Devol, then at the sword. “The blade seems a little long for his height and he
seems quite young. Humans grow more at that age, correct?”
“He will grow into it,” Wulfsun assured her.
“Good to know.” She placed the weapon on the table. “So tell me then,
Devol. What is the power of your majestic?”
He sighed and put his palms together as he explained. “We aren’t exactly
sure.”
“Hmm?” The daemoni paused, her expression startled. “You have no
idea?”
“Well, after practicing with it during this last week, we thought it might
have something to do with Mana-draining.” he postulated. “When I fought
Wulfsun, I was able to break through his shield because he was running low
on Mana and—”
“Wait, you broke through Wulfsun’s barrier?” Macha asked and her eyes
widened with an impressed look as she regarded the Templar captain. “Has
that been done before?”
The giant shook his head and smirked. “Interesting, ain’t it?”
“Very much,” she agreed, rested a hand on her chest, and tapped her
fingers. “An ability that allows one to drain the Mana of others would explain
that.”
 “Well…the thing is, we still aren’t sure that is what it does,” Devol
continued. “When I sparred with Jazai, if I was able to get close or graze him,
he would lose words in his book and his spells wouldn’t have the power they
usually do. In fact, he tried once to teleport or blink as he called it, and he
ended up stuck on top of a tree when he wanted to teleport behind it.”
“I see.” She nodded. “Anything else?”
“With Asla, when she did her magical cat thing—” He made claws with
his hands for emphasis. “Whenever I struck at her, she lost speed and she said
she heard a ringing that distracted her.”
“Heard a ringing?” the daemoni asked quickly and tapped her fingers
faster in thought. “Hmm, everything else sounds like it would be affected by
Mana-draining or something similar. But that ringing is an odd effect.” She
folded her arms and gestured to the sword with her head. “Show me then.”
Devol drew it, held it up, and closed his eyes as he summoned his Anima
and began to release power to the majestic.
Rogo returned with a box in his lower arms. “Hey, boss. I brought the
materi—” As the blade began to charge, the light poured into it and
illuminated the room with a bright glare. The melian slapped his upper hands
over his eyes and surprised shouts and gasps issued from the other smiths.
When he realized that he might be blinding them, the boy dimmed the light
hastily and looked around with genuine concern.
Macha blinked rapidly but otherwise, showed very little reaction. “I
didn’t expect it to look like that,” she admitted. “The bright light could be
useful on its own. It is certainly an interesting majestic. I’m honestly rather
excited to do some research now.”
Wulfsun regarded her with a trace of suspicion. “You aren’t thinking
about adding anything, are ya?”
“Adding?” Devol asked and looked at the head smith. “Adding to what?
The sword? I overheard Zier and Vaust talk about modifications or
something.”
The daemoni nodded. “I’ve found ways to make simple modifications to
majestics,” she explained. “Similar to how one would with an exotic,
although it takes considerably more materials and much more skill than most
are capable of.” She waved a hand dismissively. “But given that we don’t
know what it does, it would not be smart to do so right now. But should we
have a better grasp of it…” She leaned forward and smiled at the young
Magi. “I would be more than happy to play with it to see what we can
create.” He looked away from the eager master smith and merely inclined his
head in acknowledgment.
“Is it safe to look now?” the melian smith asked, his hands still over his
eyes.
Macha sighed and straightened. “It’s been safe,” she replied and tossed
him a mold of a sword when he lowered his hands, which he snatched out of
the air. “Put the materials you brought with you down. Then, I need you to
fetch a bag of cobalt dust and enough diament glass to make a blade of that
size.”
“Diament glass?” Rogo placed the box on a table and when he turned to
look at her, she stared impassively at him. “Uh…right, boss!” he said and
took the mold with him as he hurried to another room.
“I’ll let you know what I find,” she promised, turned to them, and smiled
at Devol. “And you be sure to do the same.”
“Yes, ma’am.” he agreed with a polite bow.
Wulfsun chuckled and patted him on the back. “All right, boyo. Say your
goodbyes for now. It is time to eat.”
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Rogo the smithy?” Jazai repeated after he swallowed his mouthful of potato.
“Yeah, that’s his real name. Melian’s don’t have family names or clan names
like most of the other races. They use their profession as a type of marker of
who they are.”
“What about when they are kids?” Devol asked as he scarfed his beef and
rice. “Was he Rogo the kid?”
“He would have been Rogo son of… What was his father’s name?” the
other boy asked as he tapped his fork on the side of his plate.
“Rogo son of Toro,” Asla answered as she finished her juice. “Or Rogo
son of Toro the forger. They can get somewhat wordy so their first names are
usually simple.”
“I see.” He moved his empty bowl to the side. “By the way, Wulfsun said
we’ll head out on our mission in a couple of days.”
“Zier said something similar.” The scholar’s apprentice looked at Asla.
“Did Freki give you an update?”
She nodded, pierced a small piece of fish with a claw, and raised it to her
mouth. “Yes, he also told me it will be to return a package to the order.”
“So a simple retrieval mission?” Devol asked and his dejection colored
his tone. “Like madame Nauru said.”
“Yeah, that’s the long and short of it,” Jazai agreed. “I’m not surprised
that our first mission alone would be something so simple.”
“I wonder why they haven’t given us the specifics.” He picked his cup of
water up. “I would think it would be important for us to know what we’re
looking for and all that before we set off, right?”
“It could be they don’t know the specifics themselves,” Asla pointed out
and swallowed the piece of fish. “Freki said that we might meet someone to
recover it.”
“And can’t they use the portals?” Devol asked. “That seems faster and
safer.”
“They might not be a member of the Templars,” the young scholar
reasoned as he began to eat a soft yellow dessert cake. “We have partners
who help the order and some alliances with brokers and guilds will send
those looking for us to certain anchor points. But only the most trusted
among them have the ability to open the portal or even know where some of
the anchors that lead here are. Otherwise, even if you find one of the anchors,
a Templar will come to meet you if you try to access it.”
“Oh.” He frowned as he recalled the day he had opened the portal. “I
wasn’t a member of the Templars so how did I get through?”
Asla glanced at him. “You mentioned that you had opened it but that you
used your majestic to do so, correct?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Now that I think about it, both Mr. Lebatt and
Wulfsun seemed surprised at that.”
“Maybe that’s simply another facet of your majestic,” Jazai suggested.
“It’s starting to sound like a real multi-tool kinda deal. I wish you had more
control over it.”
Asla frowned and her ears twitched. “No kidding.”
Devol chuckled but he did agree with them. His majestic seemed far more
useful and fascinating than he had given it credit for since he first received it,
but he still had no idea what it did. A weapon you could not wield properly
was not the most dependable.
While the trainees continued to chat, their mentors, Zier, Wulfsun, Freki,
and Vaust, were seated at another table across the dining hall and discussed
the mission.
“Well…I understand the logic,” Freki conceded, although his scowl
clearly showed his hesitation. “But this could be far more than they can
handle right now.”
“The grand mistress agrees,” Vaust stated and sipped from his gourd,
frowned, and shook it. He grimaced when he realized very little of its
contents were left. He sighed, placed it on the table, and looked at the wolf
wildkin. “Which is why I’ll shadow them.”
“You will?” Zier seemed surprised. “I would have thought you would be
on another mission by then.”
 “This is my mission,” the mori replied. “Technically, it would be much
too dangerous for them. But we currently do not believe anyone knows that
the item is out in the open yet. Sending three younglings to retrieve it would
raise less suspicion, but we cannot be sure that won’t change between then
and now so I will be on standby and observe them.”
“Who got in touch with us?” Freki asked.
“A hunter’s guild in the Britana Kingdom,” Vaust revealed. “Or I should
say the Hunter’s Guild of Britana.”
“That means Henry’s boys and girls, correct?” Wulfsun asked and
received a nod in reply. “Huh, why not get it to us directly? They are in good
standing with us. I know the Britana anchor point is a little out of the way but
—”
“The grand mistress asked the same thing,” the mori interjected. “And it
would be one of the reasons I am going. They didn’t only find one item.
There was another but the team sent to retrieve it never returned.”
This caused the jaws of his comrades to clench around the entire table.
“Any more information?” Zier asked.
“Only that the search party never found them. And a couple of other
individuals in the guild have gone missing,” Vaust explained. “They cannot
rule out that they are followed or watched. Even if they did use the portal to
get here, they could be attacked before that happened or the enemy could use
a spell or majestic to keep the portal open and thus allow whoever is
interested in that item to enter.”
“And we have so many in storage—not that it would be easy for them to
steal in the abyss,” Wulfsun grumbled and ran a hand through his wild mane.
“Damn. It feels like I’m hearing more tales of people looking for those cursed
things than merely stumbling upon them now.”
“Should we tell them?” Freki asked with a hasty glance at Zier. “I’ve only
mentioned them to Asla as I didn’t want to frighten her, but does Jazai
know?”
“I’m sure he has some idea of what they are, given his father’s work,” the
scholar replied and sipped his wine. “Although he has been reticent about
whether he knows much about them or not, I’m almost certain it means he at
least knows of them. I have told him to keep any rumors or specifics of his
father’s work to himself. He is cheeky but he wouldn’t cause a fire he
couldn’t put out.”
“They will be instructed to keep the box closed and secured,” Vaust
assured them. “And as I said, I will be there to make sure everything goes
well. Think of this less as a dire mission and more like a test similar to what
Devol recently went through.” He scooted his chair back far enough to place
his heels casually on the table. “After all, they are gifted students, but what
good are those gifts if they don’t get a chance to use them?”
Freki looked down and sighed. “What good are those gifts if they are
killed?” he responded grimly and looked up to see the concern on the faces of
his comrades.
“Come now, Freki,” Wulfsun chided. “You’ve been training Asla for a
few months now. Not only that, you’ve seen them working together over the
past week and they aren’t pushovers.”
The wildkin nodded slowly “I know, but…”
“I, for one, am excited to see what my apprentice accomplishes on his
own,” Zier admitted and surprised the others. “What? Jazai is intelligent and
can be a help when he bothers to apply that intellect. But after working with
him all this time, I know that unless something drastic changes in his
demeanor, the path of the scholar will not be his first choice. If anything, he
may take a path similar to his father, something I think Ekon is aware of. So
this will be an interesting trial for him.”
“And Vaust will be there,” Wulfsun stated and hoisted his stein. “You
have confidence in your comrade, right?”
“Keep it down, would you?” Freki asked and gestured at his ears before
he nodded. “Of course I do. It’s only… It can be hard to send them out like
that when you’ve grown attached.” He bit his lip. “I’ve known Asla since she
was a child and hated the fact that I wasn’t there to help her when she needed
it. If I was, maybe she wouldn’t be here at all.”
“You cannot continue to dwell on that,” Vaust stated and surprised the
wildkin. “She is coming into her own now and even before, has she ever done
something she didn’t wish to? I am sure that if she had an issue, the grand
mistress would have been happy to find another place for her to grow. But
Asla remained here—with you and to find her path. This is her taking another
step and if you care for her, you will see her as a sister-in-arms, not as a child
to shelter.”
Zier chuckled as he finished his wine. “I would never have thought I’d
hear something so profound from you, Vaust.”
“Hey, the kids are leaving,” Wulfsun told them as the trio left their plates
and glasses at the cleaning area and departed. “It looks like they are headed
toward the scholar spire.”
“Perhaps they are going to end their night with a session of studying,”
Zier suggested.
The mori chuckled. “Were you ever a child?”
With a sigh of annoyance, the dryad filled his glass again with the
remains of the bottle on the table. “Yes, a very studious one, thank you.”

“Hey, up here!” Jazai called over his shoulder as he opened the hatch to the
spire roof. The three youngsters scrambled through and Devol caught sight of
the unobscured night sky above.
“Wow, it’s so clear up here.”
“Peaceful too,” the apprentice scholar agreed. “I come here to get away
from it all—specifically Zier when he gets cranky.”
Asla sat quickly and stared at the stars. Devol noticed that the lights of the
night gave her an ethereal glow, which made her seem rather enchanting
although he also saw a look of concern on her face. “Is something wrong,
Asla?”
She shrugged and frowned slightly. “I couldn’t hear what the older
Templars were talking about, but from Freki’s tone… Well, I don’t think he
expects us to succeed.”
“The folly of youth is what Zier would call it.” Jazai sighed as he leaned
on the brass railings around the edge of the roof. “It can’t be that bad. If it
was important, they wouldn’t send us if they didn’t think we could do it.”
“That doesn’t sound much better,” she mumbled. “Either we’re running a
pointless errand or it is some kind of test.”
“Well, of course.” Devol’s statement drew odd looks from the other two.
“It seemed obvious to me that this was more of a test than a real mission.
They haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”
“Really?” the other boy asked. “I didn’t catch that.”
“I’m sure the mission is real,” he assured them. “But they put us together
and made us train. I think they want to see what we can accomplish on our
own.” He held a hand out, the palm down. “And I want us to promise each
other that we will make it through. I’ve seen you two in action now, and I’m
sure we could go on solo missions and do well. Together, this should be no
problem.”
Jazai chuckled and stepped closer with his arms folded. “Zier would call
you too optimistic.” He unfolded them and placed his hand on top of his
friend’s. “But I don’t agree with him on much anyway.”
Asla placed her hand on top of the apprentice’s and surprised her
companions. She wore a look of fierce determination on her face. “You are
right, Devol. Even if they believe we can’t succeed, we should show them
they are wrong.”
“Exactly.” He nodded and smiled at his teammates. “This’ll be the first
official mission ever given to me by someone besides my mom, but I don’t
think those count. I’m glad I’ll be working with you at my side.”
“Same,” Jazai said and grinned at them.
The wildkin did the same. “I’m excited once again. Let’s do our best.”
Their promise to each other sealed, they spent another hour talking and
looking at the stars before they wandered to their quarters to sleep. They
would train for one more day before it was time to depart on their first
mission for the Templar Order.
It was a mission that would change their reality over the course of their
journey, although they did not know it that night.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y

“Man, I forgot how cold it is out here!” Jazai grumbled as he drew his jacket
closer. “Where’s Asla? We need to get this show on the road.”
“Calm yourself, Jazai,” Zier ordered sharply. Although he did a better job
of bundling his garment around him for warmth than the young scholar, he
was also rather chilled by the outside air. “We are still waiting for the grand
mistress as well.”
“It looks like you won’t have to wait long,” the apprentice said and
gestured to the bridge. “Here they are.”
Devol and the others looked to where Asla, Freki, and Nauru strode out of
the entrance to the castle and hurried to join them. The young Magi saw that
Vaust was not with them. As the group huddled together, the two boys
noticed that Asla carried a rather large backpack. “You do know we’ll only
be gone for a couple of days at most, right?” Jazai managed to restrain a
chuckle at the fact that her pack of supplies was almost as tall as her.
“Freki insisted.” She sighed. The wolf wildkin wore a concerned and
perhaps even melancholy expression on his face. He must have been sad that
his trainee was leaving his side for a while and it was cute in a way.
“Good morning, everyone.” Nauru greeted them with a small bow that all
in attendance reciprocated. “Are you ready, young Magi?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Devol stated and stood tall. “Tell us what we need to do.”
“That would be helpful for completing the mission.” Jazai snickered and
Zier nudged him in the back in annoyance.
“I certainly agree.” Nauru allowed herself a small smile and cleared her
throat to draw the group's attention as she took a small card from her robes.
“These are the instructions for your contact. You are to meet in the town of
Rouxwoods.”
“Rouxwoods?” Devol asked as he sheathed his majestic and took the
card. “That village is near the border of Renaissance and the Kingdom of
Britana.”
“Do we have a portal near there?” the young scholar asked.
“No, but it shouldn’t be more than a day and a half’s travel from
Fairwind, which is the closest anchor we have available,” she told them.
“You can head through the forest toward the King’s Fall Mountains. From
there, you can go around or through the mountains and from that point, you
should have a straight route to the town.”
Devol nodded as he slid the strap of the sword’s sheath to his back. “I am
very familiar with the Monleans’ territory. I should be able to get us there, no
problem.”
“Then we’ll rely on you,” Jazai said quickly. “I’m terrible with
directions.”
“Isn’t your father a traveler?” Asla asked. “Did he not teach you
anything?”
“That would imply he listens to an instruction other than when it benefits
him,” Zier snarked and earned an eye-roll from his apprentice.
The young swordsman looked around the group again. “Hey, I noticed
Mr. Lebatt isn’t here.”
The grand mistress nodded. “He had to depart earlier on a different
mission.”
“Oh, I see.” He was more than a little disappointed. “I was hoping to
thank him before he left for getting me here and the training.”
“You’ll see him again, lad,” Wulfsun promised and placed a hand on his
shoulder. “Everyone here comes and goes but this is our home. He’ll be back.
You can tell him then.”
He smiled. “Right.”
“Are you ready to depart?” Nauru asked. The three young adventurers
looked at one another before they nodded to her. “Very good. Let me open
the portal for you.” The group moved to the anchor point and she held her
hand out. Immediately, the rock began to glow before a large portal erupted
in front of them.
“That’s not how Mr. Lebatt opened it before,” he remarked.
She chuckled. “It’s one of the perks of being the grand mistress,” she
stated and darted him a questioning look. “And I heard that it isn’t how you
opened it either.”
Devol grinned and rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly. “Well,
you do have a point.”
“Let’s get going,” Jazai ordered and waved over his shoulder as he
stepped through. Asla turned and bowed before she followed him.
“Bye, everyone!” Devol yelled as he hurried to catch up. “We’ll be back
soon.”
As soon as he stepped through, the gate closed. The older Templars took
a moment after they left to stand idle. It had been quite some time since they
had seen a group of adventurers as young as these leave on a Templar
mission and for them, it was inspiring.

“Man, feel that sea breeze!” Jazai shouted as he stretched his arms wide with
enthusiasm. “I’ve been cooped up in that castle for so long, I almost forgot
what the outer wilds feel like.”
“Fish?” Asla asked and sniffed the air. “There’s fish in that village.”
“Yeah, it’s a fishing village,” Devol told her. “This is where Mr. Lebatt
and I came from. We should get some when the mission is over. They have
many great restaurants.”
“So which way should we go, Devol?” the scholar asked as he circled the
rock formation to look at the fields beyond. “Past the forests, right?”
“Through the forest to the northwest,” he clarified and pointed over the
fields. “We should reach the mountains in a few hours and be past those by
nightfall. If all goes well, we should get to Rouxwoods by tomorrow
afternoon.”
“All right, sounds good.” Jazai smirked and began to glow blue before he
vanished, a now-familiar sign that he was using his blink cantrip. “See if you
can keep up!” he shouted from about a hundred yards away.
“Wouldn’t it be less Mana-intensive to simply use Vis?” Devol asked as
the other boy blinked farther away.
“He’s showing off,” Asla muttered as she adjusted the straps on her back.
“Besides, do you think he could keep up with us only using Vis?”
“I would have slowed so he could.” That drew a giggle from her before
she crouched.
 “Come on. Let’s get going.” With that, she pounced and landed at the
bottom of the hill before she repeated the action to catch up to Jazai.
Devol charged his Mana and hurried to join his teammates. Vaust, who
was seated behind one of the rocks and hiding his Mana, smiled in
amusement. It appeared that their mission had officially begun.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- O N E

“According to the card, we’ll make contact by the evening of the twenty-first,
and the call sign is…Caw-caw?” Devol read aloud.
“Like a bird call?” Asla seemed unimpressed. “That doesn’t exactly seem
inconspicuous.”
“Do you think they may be a bird wildkin?” he asked.
She shrugged as she leapt off a large tree branch. “Possibly, but most
guilds aren’t multi-racial. If this was a wildkin guild, I would think they’d
have mentioned it.”
“All the card says is that the carrier’s name is Zeke and the guild is the
Hunters of Britana.” He slid the card into his pants pocket. “That’s the main
hunters’ guild of the kingdom. I’m surprised they reached out to the Templars
for something like this.”
“I am too, honestly,” Asla admitted. “I wonder what we are collecting and
why the guild wouldn’t want to keep it for themselves or sell it.”
“Some rare item that belongs to the Templars?” he suggested.
The wildkin shook her head. “I’m sure there are many of those around as
the order is quite old, but if that were the case, I don’t think anyone is that
gracious, at least to us.”
Devol recalled Wulfsun mentioning the Templars’ fall from grace. There
was still much he did not know about it, but it appeared it had traveled much
farther than he had imagined if people weren’t even willing to do the right
thing and return their treasures.
“Hey Jazai!” he shouted, caught the diviner’s attention, and almost made
him fall out of the sky.
The boy blinked and reappeared as he landed neatly and his teammates
caught up to him. They maintained a quick pace but continued to run along
the ground. “What do you need?” he asked.
“We’re trying to work out what we’re retrieving,” the swordsman
explained. “We know it’s some kind of box. But what do you think is
inside?”
“Beats me,” he confessed. “I don’t think they would send us out here for
a simple supply run. It might merely be an artifact or something that needs
study. Although if that were the case, Zier would probably have been more
excited about the mission.”
“Hunter guilds don’t typically have a scholar division. At best, it’s
usually a small research team,” Asla stated. “If they did find something of
interest that they couldn’t identify… No, even in that case, I think they would
hand it to their kingdom’s academics before they gave it to the Templars.”
“Zier and the other scholars specialize in many different subjects,” Jazai
pointed out. “Including areas that aren’t typically studied by most modern
academics and Magi. So if it is a case where they couldn’t learn what it was,
they probably had little choice other than to hand it to us.” The diviner’s face
contorted in confusion. “Well, no. That brings me back to the fact that Zier
would have been more eager to get his hands on it.”
“Was he not?” Devol asked.
The boy shook his head. “No, he was more…tepid, I guess.”
“That sounds about normal for him,” Asla replied.
Jazai chuckled. “Finally, someone else gets it. Most of the other scholars
have been away for the last couple of weeks. I miss Wadia. She could at least
take a joke.”
Devol leapt upward and saw the mountains in the distance. He landed and
caught up with the other two. “The mountains are coming up. We should be
there in no time.”
“Very well then.” The other boy held a hand up, his thumb pressed to his
middle finger. “Meet you there.” He snapped his fingers and blinked away in
a blue glow as his two teammates charged their Mana and quickened their
pace.

When they arrived at the edge of the forest only about half a mile from the
foot of the mountain, they paused to discuss their options as they stared at the
massive red-and-gray bulwark in their path. “So are we headed through or
around?” Jazai asked. Devol noticed that he was breathing a little more
heavily than before although he was impressed that for all his teleporting, his
Mana only seemed to be reduced by a small amount.
“I’m curious,” Asla began and caught the attention of her companions as
she pointed to the mountain. “It is called King’s Fall Mountain, correct? Why
is that? Did a king fall off it?”
The boys chuckled and the diviner shook his head. “That would make a
better story than the real one.”
“It used to be called something else,” Devol said and tapped his chin as
he tried to recall the details. “Red Ravine or something like that? Because of
the red stones along the path. But a few hundred years ago, the Monleans
king was ambushed in the mountains during a Britana invasion. It is said that
he was able to hold off most of the attackers while he ordered his followers to
retreat as they had a more important mission to undertake. Legend has it he
was such a powerful Magi that he managed to rout the attacking army himself
but died in the process.”
“Yeah, King Piero.” The other boy nodded. “I think they wanted to name
the mountains after him but over the centuries, a couple of other kings met
their ends in these mountains and not as heroically. The range earned the
morbid name as a result. I hear both Monlean’s kings and visiting royalty
don’t cross it to this day.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “But King Jeauxn doesn’t leave the castle much
anyway. I think the only time I’ve seen him in person was during the
thousand-year celebration of Monleans when I was six years old.”
Asla looked at the mountains again. “I get an ill feeling looking at them,”
she said and dragged her gaze away. “We are not kings but perhaps it is best
that we take a path around?”
“It’ll be a little longer but most likely safer,” Devol agreed. “I’m not sure
if the mountains are cursed or anything, but there are reports of bandit
activity in the area. My father would often have to send teams out to search
or scare them away, but they always seem to be replaced or return after a
time.”
“Is it worth merchants traveling through, then?” Jazai asked.
“Well, most can’t move as fast as we can,” he pointed out. “I have heard
that they are building a teleport network between merchant and supply
channels, but it’s still in the beginning stages.”
“It’s something to look forward to and it would make these missions way
easier.” The other boy adjusted his pack and looked around. “All right,
Devol. Which way?”
“Let’s go left,” he said. “The forest stretches to the side of the mountain
for a fair distance so we’ll still have some cover.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jazai lifted a hand to snap his fingers but Asla
reached out and stopped him.
“Run with us,” she said. “Conserve Mana. It is a long trek.”
Devol studied her curiously. The seriousness in her tone seemed more
like a warning than a simple suggestion. The other boy gave her a brief
questioning look before he lowered his hand and nodded. “All right, I’ll keep
up. Let’s move.”
The three set off again. Vaust had watched them from within the cover of
the forest and was pleased to see that Asla’s instincts were as sharp as ever.
There was something there, although it did not appear to be anything he
should be too concerned about, even for them. They should be safe
henceforth. He stepped into a clearing, continued to shadow the trainees on
their journey, and made sure to hide his Mana along the way.

“We’re almost out of the forest,” Devol announced. “There should be nothing
but fields. I think the next town beyond the mountains is Granvy, but we’ll be
able to go farther than that, so we should think about camping for the—”
Asla held an arm to stop him out and her ear twitched. Jazai stopped of
his own accord, took his book out quickly, and opened it. “I have eleven
names,” he stated quietly and peered into the trees around them.
“We’re being followed,” the wildkin noted and her gaze darted in all
directions. “Or trapped, rather. They are wearing thieves’ oil. I could hardly
discern their scent.”
“Bandits?” Devol asked and slid his hand to his majestic. Before he could
draw it, however, dozens of arrows whistled through the trees toward them.
Jazai moved quickly between Devol and Asla, held his arms out, and
pointed to either side. “Shield!” he yelled and two large circular shields made
of Mana formed in the directions in which the young Magi pointed. They
were barely in time to block the projectiles, which dropped harmlessly when
he dispersed the magical barriers.
“Got some Magi in our midst, eh?” a rough voice commented. Devol
drew his sword and held it in front of him as a group of men in dark-brown
jerkins and pants walked out of the forest and surrounded them. Some were
armed with bows or crossbows and others with swords or bludgeoning
weapons on their hips or back.
Two more of these bandits stepped onto the road, followed by a much
taller man with an unkempt beard and dark eyes. He was dressed in a black
coat and pants with a red bandana tied around his arm and wore an iron helm
with metal gloves and bracers. They must have been enchanted because they
neither clanged nor shuffled as he walked.
He studied them with amusement. “You seem quite young. Sorry about
the attack. We felt considerable Mana coming from ya. Can’t be too careful
in these parts.”
“He’s the leader,” Jazai stated as he peeked at his tome. “His name is Jett
and he has an exotic but I can’t read it clearly right now. The Mana of all
these other bandits is getting in the way.”
“Should we be worried about them?” Asla asked and slid her pack off
slowly.
The diviner shook his head. “Nah, not at all. A couple of them have more
Mana than your average academy graduate, but they know nothing about
Anima like the big guy does. He probably didn’t teach them so he could keep
them in line.”
“What are ya scheming over there?” Jett asked with a grin that revealed
large, yellowed teeth. “No need to be making any grand plans, children. Drop
your supplies and those pretty items of yours and we’ll leave you be.” He
placed a hand over his heart. “My promise.”
“I’ll take the ones on the right,” Jazai said and slid his gaze to the four
bandits on his side.
“Then I’ll take the four on the left,” Asla replied and let her pack fall as
she glared openly at the group. At least one winced and looked at the others.
“I’ll take him and his guards,” Devol stated, drew his sword, and prepared
himself to attack.
“Focus on getting rid of his buddies first,” the other boy recommended.
“Under normal circumstances, I’d say you could defeat the leader easily, but
we don’t know what his exotic is capable of so keep your guard up.”
 “Got it. Be quick and safe,” he stated as they all prepared to attack.
Jett began to reach into his coat. “Don’t go doing anything foolish now.”
“Go!” Devol shouted and the trio separated to attack the bandits.

Vaust scowled where he lay prone behind a tree stump. This certainly was
not the plan but it would be a good warm-up and a chance to see how they
worked in the field. He peered over his hiding place and watched the fight,
paying particular attention to Devol and his light-bladed majestic. It was time
to see what he could do with it.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-T WO

Jazai was the first to lure his group away from the road. He blinked quickly
behind one of the four bandits and, in a display of ingenuity or simply a
desire for expediency, he thunked him on the head with his magic-imbued
tome. The man fell and when the other three focused their attention on the
young diviner, he led them deeper into the woods.
The wildkin pounced on her targets much faster than any of them
expected and caught them all unprepared. She drove one onto his back when
she leapt into his chest and delivered a heavy kick before she landed on top of
him. In the same motion, she slashed the legs of two other bandits before the
fourth attempted to swing his mace to crush her head. Alsa rolled to the side
and the mace almost pounded into the fallen bandit's chest before its wielder
managed to stop it. She scurried into the woods with both the injured and
uninjured brigands in pursuit.
Devol decided the best way to draw Jett’s bodyguards would be to feint
an assault on their leader. He surged into a mock attack and as expected, the
two men intercepted him. With his sword held ready in both hands, he slid
along the path as both guards swung their weapons in aggressive arcs. He
lifted his blade to catch theirs and the two struggled against him.
“What the hell?” one of them protested. “How is this kid so strong?”
His comrade directed a vicious kick at the young Magi, who strengthened
his limb with Mana seconds before the bandit’s boot struck his knee. The
impact made the man cry out in surprise and he almost buckled from the pain.
“My foot!” he yelled. “My toes are broken.”
“Hey—don’t back off, idiot!” his comrade yelled. “He’s going to—”
The boy did not let him finish and instead, shoved him back and broke
their stalemate as he thrust the pommel of his majestic into the guard’s chest.
The force of the blow dented the light armor he wore under his jacket and he
hacked painfully and spat a glob of something vile before he stumbled back
and collapsed.
“You little bastard!” the man’s comrade roared, steadied himself, and
attempted another wild swipe with his weapon. Devol intercepted the strike,
blocked it with ease, and used his strengthened leg to deliver a powerful kick
to his opponent’s jaw. The ruffian staggered and flailed to regain his balance
before he landed heavily on his companion.
Surprisingly, the bandit leader laughed raucously as he shook his head
and clapped. “Well I’ll be— You’re something else, kid!” he remarked, his
tone impressed, and slid his hand into his coat. “I underestimated you and
your little friends. I usually have a good eye for easy targets but guess I was
way off the mark this time.”
“Will you fight too?” Devol asked and observed the man as he rummaged
in his jacket.
“Well, I have to save face now,” Jett stated. and withdrew a small
hammer. “This is about pride, not merely plunder.”
Jazai had told the young Magi that the leader had an exotic, and the boy’s
gaze studied the hammer. The one-handed weapon with a head that was no
more than six or seven inches wide and a few inches tall was a little
disappointing and he wondered if it was truly his exotic or merely a ploy.
The brigand twirled the hammer for a moment. “Nice sword. What is
that?” he studied the light-blade as a thief might a precious jewel he intended
to steal. “Some sturdy glass, I suppose, although it’s nothing I’ve seen before.
My boys have truesilver blades, so it wasn’t only you strengthening your
sword with Mana that kept it intact. I wonder how much I can get for
something like that. It’s a collector’s item, no doubt. I might keep it for
myself.”
“My majestic sought me out,” Devol stated and pointed it at the bandit
leader. “And I have only recently acquired it. I won’t give it up.”
“A majestic?” Jett chuckled. “Either way, that sounds like a pompous
way to say, ‘you can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.’” He held his hammer
up and a dull red glow now surrounded it. “I can oblige you there, boy.”
His eyes widened. He had his answer. The hammer was indeed his
opponent’s exotic and it was much more than it appeared to be. He decided to
not give the man any advantage he might gain with more time to prepare
himself and surged into motion. Jett merely laughed wildly.

“Where’d he go? Did anyone see him?” one of the bandits shouted as they
thrust through the forest in search of Jazai.
“Over here!” the diviner shouted. The group was bewildered but followed
the voice hurriedly to a small clearing, where their quarry stood in the open,
reading his book. “Let’s see… Both James and Kane have short fuses. Vick
and Vince are brothers who attack together.”
“What the hell?” Vick demanded indignantly. “How does he know our
names?”
“Must be a trick!” Kane reasoned and brandished his mace. “We beat the
kid and worry about the rest later.”
“Did you know that Vince has been seeing your girl, Vick?” Jazai asked
and caught both of the bandits' attention. “Lola in Sherbrook? Yeah, they’ve
had a few flings. I guess brothers do share everything.”
“Is that true, Vince?” Vick demanded, turned immediately, and pointed
his sword at his brother. “Well, is it?”
“He’s only trying to get in your head, man!” Vince said and tried to calm
him as he held his sword up defensively. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“I’m not sure what I have to worry about with Kane and James,” the boy
remarked when he flipped a page. “It says here you think you’re the worst
fighters among your group. Both of you are worried that the boss will toss
you out on your ass sooner or later, and that’s the best outcome.”
“Shut up!” they yelled almost in unison as they lunged toward him. He
closed the book and waited for them to strike. He might not have been an up-
close fighter like Devol or Asla, but even he could see how sloppy the two
were and slid easily between them as they attempted to land their blows at the
same time. His ploy worked and their weapons clashed noisily against each
other.
Jazai placed his hands on the back of their heads. “Shock!” Electricity
coursed through his palms and into the bandits, who yelled in pain before
they fell at his feet. He shook his hands and felt them tingle. “Huh. I need to
work on that one,” he muttered as he turned toward the forest. Vick and
Vince now brawled openly with one another.
 For a moment, he wondered if he should simply let them keep themselves
occupied, but he decided to be on the safe side. He pointed at them with his
index and little finger. “Missile.” Two orbs of blue Mana formed in front of
his fingers and streaked unerringly into the heads of the bandit brothers to
render them unconscious and end their little spat. The diviner grinned and
departed.

“Holly!” a bandit shouted in an attempt to locate his comrades. “Xav! Did

you find her?”
“I don’t hear anything.” His partner grimaced. “Only birds and insects.
How far did they go?”
“Maybe she got them?” the first man reasoned and tightened his hold
nervously on his mace.
“No way. That scrawny little—” His partner’s words ended in a sudden
shout and a sound that suggested he’d thunked into a tree trunk.
He spun hastily. The other man lay in a crumpled heap and Asla stood
over him. “Son of a—” He acted reflexively and pushed into a charge as he
raised his mace. The wildkin turned, formed a claw with her hand, and lashed
out even though he was several yards away.
His mace suddenly felt considerably lighter and he gaped at it in
astonishment. The weapon had been cut into three pieces and most of it was
now on the forest floor. Before he could even utter a word, she darted behind
him, struck the back of his neck in one swift motion with the side of her
hand, and felled him instantly.
She watched for a moment to see if he recovered but once she was sure he
was as incapacitated as the other three bandits, she began to run toward the
road. The wildkin wondered how Devol and Jazai had fared but she heard a
loud impact, something that caused the forest to shake. She increased her
pace even more. It sounded like it had come from the main road, which
meant Devol was in trouble.

When Jazai blinked into view on the road, he was immediately shoved to the
ground as something large streaked overhead. “What was that?” he asked in
surprise as Devol helped him up and they both retreated a short distance. The
bandit leader held a massive hammer—almost comically big in comparison
to the large man—but he wielded it with intent to kill, which made it even
more threatening.
“It looks like he can increase the size and length of it as he pleases,” the
young swordsman informed him and held his blade up. “It’s been quite tricky
to get close.”
“I can imagine. It’s only an exotic, though, so you should be able to guard
against it easily with a majestic.”
“It won’t break the blade,” he agreed and pulled his sleeve up to reveal a
bruised arm. “But I still feel the hit. It tossed me into a tree a minute ago.”
“Yeah, that would be a problem,” Jazai conceded and held his hands out.
“I’ll see if I can get you an opening, although it would probably be easier if
Asla was—”
The wildkin launched out of the forest, leapt onto the leader’s back, and
sank her claws into his armor.
“You too?” Jett roared as he struggled to dislodge her. “Are all my men
incompetent?” He was able to catch hold of her hair and yanked her off him.
She struck with her claws and left scratch marks on his chest plate but little
more. “You have to do more than whiff me, girlie!” He spat into the dust.
Asla landed and bounded away to join her two teammates. “Good
timing,” the young diviner remarked.
“He has an Anima,” she told them. “Otherwise, that strike would have
wounded him.”
“Devol needs an opening,” Jazai stated. “Let us get it for him.”
“All right.” She nodded, bared her teeth, and surged forward with him
close behind.
Devol began to prime his majestic with Mana and the light flowed
quickly into his blade. Asla lashed out and her claws scored the leader’s
armor as he swung his weapon at her. The hammer had enlarged enough to
strike almost her whole body in one blow, but she was able to contort herself
enough that it narrowly missed her and whistled overhead. She landed,
jumped onto the hammer, and vaulted off to strike the man’s helm.
The diviner moved close enough that he was only a few yards away and
pointed at the brigand. “Chains!” he shouted. Immediately, links made of
Mana slid around the arms and chest of their target and held him in place for
a moment while Asla circled for another strike.
Jett responded with an angry shout and his Mana flared. He broke the
chains, snatched the wildkin in mid-air, and hurled her into the dirt, then
raised his hammer to flatten her.
As he prepared to swing his hammer, a bright light filled his vision and
the young swordsman raced forward, prepared to sink his majestic into his
chest. The leader shrank his hammer as he closed in, which allowed him to
change the arc of his swing toward the young Magi. When his weapon met
the sword, a blast of light and wave of force exploded from the clash.
The majestic grew brighter and Devol pushed his blade forward. A
second vivid explosion catapulted Jett off his feet and he hurtled along the
forest path, his hammer following. He was finally stopped over a hundred
yards away when he careened into a group of trees. Dazed, he struggled for a
moment to stand but before he could get to his feet, his hammer drove into
his chest and thrust him deeper into the forest.
The trio looked on wide-eyed. Jazai and Asla turned to Devol. “Well…”
the boy began and an amused grin snuck onto his face. “I don’t think that
counts as Mana draining, do you?”
The only response his teammates had was to shake their heads.

Vaust was equally amused and excited. It had been a treat to watch the three
handle their foes so deftly, and seeing Devol’s majestic in action was an
impressive sight. He realized, however, any theory they currently had
notwithstanding, that what it could do remained a mystery. Still, he would
have to remember this moment as it would make a great story to tell the
others once they finished their mission.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-T H R E E

After their run-in with the bandits, they searched their unconscious bodies
and helped themselves to anything that seemed useful. Even Jett was only
knocked out cold, much to their surprise, and they conceded that for all his
nasty behavior, the man was certainly a worthy opponent if a somewhat
broken one at that moment. They all agreed to not take the weapons as they
were cumbersome and would slow their journey.
With the procured supplies shared between them, the boys discussed
taking the brigand leader’s exotic, which would certainly be of real benefit to
the Templars—and prevent its use against unsuspecting travelers.
Before they could agree on it, a loud growl and a flash of orange light
ended their debate and they turned as one. A furious Asla clawed the hammer
viciously and destroyed it. They watched her in silence. While they had to
admit that this may not have been the plan they would have gone with, it was
a fair compromise.
The three continued until nightfall but were unable to find a cave or
shelter nearby. The skies were clear, however, and no sign of impending rain
meant they could easily build themselves a campfire and settle around it for
the night. They found a river a short distance away, where they were able to
refill their canteens and freshen up.
Dinner was made from rabbits Asla had hunted followed by bread and
various jams they had brought with them from the castle. Thereafter, they
simply stretched beside the campfire, stared at the stars, and took a moment
to rest.
“You know, Devol,” Jazai began and turned on his side to look at the
young swordsman. “You’ve been rather quiet since we started to make
camp.”
He shifted under his blanket and nodded. “I guess I have, huh? Sorry, I’ve
been thinking about the last fight.”
The diviner snickered as he flipped onto his back to look at the sky again.
“You obsessing about your mistakes or something like that? I know you
fighting types always seem to go on and on about things like that. We
defeated them all in a few minutes. Nothing to—”
“No, it isn’t that,” he interjected. “When I looked at the leader’s body, he
was banged up good.”
“Well, yeah.” The diviner chuckled. “You threw him a hundred yards and
his hammer pounded into his chest. I have to admit I was surprised to see he
was still breathing after that.”
Devol tensed slightly before he sighed heavily. “I was too—and relieved,
to be honest.”
His teammates focused on him. “Were you worried you killed him?” the
other boy asked.
He nodded. “I’ve killed beasts and creatures. But another human?”
Jazai regarded him with a thoughtful expression. “You are fairly young so
I guess you’ve never had a fight end that way, eh?”
The young swordsman shook his head. “No, I have not.” He rolled his
eyes at his friend. “Have you?”
“Not me, no,” the boy responded and looked away as a memory surfaced.
“But when I was about ten, I was traveling with my father and I saw him kill
a couple of guys.” He sighed when he recalled the incident. “We were
ambushed on a road to Luxor or someplace like that by bandits very similar
to those we fought. He dealt with most of them himself. I got a couple down
too but two had exotics. They got the jump on my father and he… His
instincts took over. He attacked them with a powerful cantrip. It wasn’t
graphic or anything, but I knew they were dead even before they landed.”
“Did it…disturb you?” Devol asked, his full attention on the diviner.
Jazai shrugged. “Not disturbed, that’s too harsh—maybe unsettled?” He
sounded uncertain and frowned as he tried to find the right words. “I
remember feeling numb and taken aback. It was my first time seeing
someone who was alive not seconds before suddenly gone. But at the same
time, I realized what my father had to do in his line of work—and what he
was capable of doing also hit me. I suddenly thought, ‘this is how it is,’ and it
shocked me as much as the dead men did.” He turned his hand palm-up in a
show of indifference. “He was quite apologetic that night that I had to see it,
but he also used it as a moment to teach me what could be expected of me
should I choose to walk the same path.”
“And did that worry you?” Asla asked as she turned to join the
conversation.
He responded with another shrug before he rolled onto his back again and
placed his hands behind his head. “I already knew about it on some level,
even then. But seeing it happen is a very different thing. I guess it put it in
perspective. I’ve had years to think about it since then and I’m prepared to
kill if need be, but I’m sure it won’t be easy when it happens.” He glanced at
the other boy. “Your pops is a guard captain, right? I’m sure he’s had to deal
with some terrible people in that fashion.”
Devol nodded and cast his mind back. “I know he has, but he’s never
discussed it with me. He was even responsible for a few executions while I
was growing up but I’ve never had to see it.” He considered it and thought
about the bandit leader’s body. “I know that if I become a guardsman or a
Templar or anything like that, I’ll have to get used to it. I guess I’m not that
great at thinking ahead.”
“I’ve come to that conclusion,” Asla interjected and although her tone
didn’t contain malice or sound chiding, it still stung a little.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I thought this was a simple
retrieval mission. I should have expected that we could run into
complications like bandits. It is a wonder I did not run into so much as a
peddler on my way to the Templar Order, I suppose. Even during the fight, I
thought I could handle them without much trouble, but when I was pushed
too far in the end and my majestic’s power came out…” He extended his
hand to trace the sheath of his sword. “It could have ended differently, I
guess.”
Jazai mumbled an agreement but wasn’t sure what to say. He had found
peace with the idea of having to maim or kill others over the years, but Devol
seemed quite vexed about it at the moment. He didn’t feel right to simply tell
him to buck up and deal with it, but it could end in tragedy for him if he
pursued any profession that might demand that from him and he was not
prepared for it.
More immediately, it could cause issues with their mission if they
encountered another complication like the bandits. He looked at Asla to see if
she had any words of wisdom or comfort, but she stared off into the distance.
 “Do you see that bush?” she asked after a moment and pointed directly
ahead. The boys sat quickly to peer at a rather large bush with many brown-
red nubs along its branches. “Those seeds-like lumps are special. They are
bloodflowers that have yet to bloom.”
“Bloodflowers?” Devol asked. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with them.”
She nodded her understanding. “They aren’t particularly common in the
Monleans kingdom. Most consider them to be an ill omen. It is said that
bloodflowers only bloom when someone is near who is either about to
experience death or is quite familiar with it.” She brought her knees to her
chest.
“I’m not sure if you’ve seen the gardens we keep in the castle,” she
continued, “but we have bloodflowers there, both blossomed and not. I pass
them almost every day in the morning.” She bit her lip. “I am not sure how
much I believe in many of these tales, but this one has always stayed with
me. Blossomed bloodflowers are indeed beautiful, but that story always runs
through my mind when I see them. I find some solace in that.”
“You do?” the young swordsman asked. “How so?”
The wildkin looked at him. “I plan to assist the Templars, grow with
them, and see them restored to their former glory as thanks for what they
have done for me. And I know that I too will one day have to kill both
monsters and villains as many of them have. Seeing those beautiful flowers
and thinking of that story reminds me that even when we must do something
we prefer not to—or even in tragedy—something beautiful can come of it.”
He was struck by her words and even Jazai’s eyes widened before he
smiled and closed them as he lay back and shifted to make himself
comfortable. It appeared that she did indeed have some wise words to say.
Devol took one of her hands and she looked at him in surprise. He
returned her look with one of calm and gratitude. “I do understand what you
mean, Asla. Thank you.”
Her eyelids closed for a moment and she squeezed his hand softly and
nodded. “You are welcome.” She withdrew her hand gently and they said
nothing more. It was already quite late and they needed to rest so they could
reach their destination by early afternoon on the morrow.
His fears had not abated but they did not haunt him further that night.
Thankfully, he was able to sleep more comfortably than he had expected to.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-F O U R

“We’re almost there!” Devol called as he bounded down the hillside. “You
can already see the red trees.”
“They are hard to miss,” Jazai told him before he blinked away from his
friend, who laughed. Asla bounded past them both as they approached a large
archway that welcomed travelers to Rouxwoods.
It was a quaint little village nestled deep in a wood of the perpetually red-
leaved trees from which the forest and town took its name. Red-and-white
cobbled roads stretched from the gates into the town center, where it split into
several directions. The town bustled with villagers and passersby and the
houses all seemed to be made with the dark timber from the trees—an
amusing detail Devol noticed as they walked under the swirling arches that
were built in front of many of the buildings where the slanted roofs met.
“We made it,” Asla said smugly as she looked at all the people with frank
interest. “It wasn’t a long trip at all.”
“Well, not for us.” Jazai chuckled and his gaze paused at one of the
establishments. “Hey, this courier we’re supposed to meet—he will contact
us, right?”
Devol took out the card Nauru had given them. “Yeah. I’m not sure how
exactly, but we have to wait for him. He’s traveling from farther away.”
“Then we might as well get something to eat.” The diviner pointed his
thumb at an inn a short distance ahead. “We can also see how much rooms
will be if we have to stay the night.”
The other two looked at one another and nodded together in agreement
with the older Magi. “Sounds good,” the young swordsman said.
Their friend smirked and cracked his knuckles. “All right. Let me haggle
for the rooms. It’s one of my specialties.”

“Damn conmen,” Jazai grumbled and sipped his spiced juice.

“It’s not like it was our money,” Asla told him and swirled a cup of berry
juice. “We took that from the bandits.”
“Still, we could have kept more of it.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t have
thought a place like this would have such a bustling tourist economy.”
“It is very pretty,” Devol pointed out. “And it’s also something of a
waypoint for merchants and travelers since it’s so close to the border of
Britana.”
“Still, a whole shard for a couple of rooms?” The scholar huffed and took
a swig like his drink contained alcohol with which to drown his woes. “I was
hoping I could lower it to three splints. It would have saved us two, at least.”
“I’m sure you have other specialties that are of use, Jazai,” the wildkin
responded.
“Like what?” Devol asked and earned only a shrug from her as the
scholar glared at them both.
A female server stopped at their table. “Your food is ready,” she
announced and put a plate of fish and rice in front of Asla. Grilled chicken
with mashed potatoes and gravy followed for Jazai and slices of steak and
seasoned vegetables for Devol. They thanked her as she replaced their empty
breadbasket and began to dig into their meals.
“So, any idea when we’re supposed to meet this courier?” Asla asked as
she began to cut into her fish with a knife and fork. It amused the young
swordsman to notice that she was not that proficient, given that she normally
used her claws.
He considered the question. “Well, if he’s coming from the capital, he has
a far greater distance to travel than we did,” he reasoned as he speared a piece
of broccoli with his fork. “I don’t know if he was using any portals, but we
would have to wait more than a day for him to arrive.”
“I guess we’ll get some use out of those rooms,” Jazai muttered as he
took another sip of his juice.
“But if he began earlier than we did, he should arrive soon, yes?” she
asked.
 Devol nodded. “Assuming he can move as fast or faster than we can, it
shouldn’t be a difficult trek, merely a long one.”
“How is he supposed to find us?” Jazai stirred the mashed potatoes on his
plate with his fork. “Or how do we find him?
He shrugged and swallowed the vegetables he had been chewing as he
patted his left pants pocket. “The card doesn’t specify but the signal word is
‘caw-caw.’”
“Oh right, the bird’s call,” the diviner mumbled as he cut into his chicken.
“That won’t be suspicious at all.”
“We discussed that it could be an avian wildkin,” Asla reminded them. “It
might not be likely but I did notice some wildkin in town.”
Devol nodded and recalled their features. “I saw a verta wildkin in the
merchant row who looked like a deer, so maybe people around here are
accustomed to wildkin.”
“Most in Monleans and Britana are,” she confirmed. “The homina
wildkin kingdom is in Monleans lands, and the verta kingdom island is off
the coast of Britana in the Pendragon Ocean, so they are more common in
these parts.”
“I don’t remember seeing that many growing up,” he admitted. “There
was Mrs. Rena—another guard captain who worked with my father—and a
few others in the city, I think, but most were traveling merchants.”
“Many wildkin are nomadic,” she informed him. “At least in youth and
when out of the kingdoms. I suppose that would make me something of a
special case.”
“I’m glad you are,” Devol said with a smile. Jazai flinched and stopped in
mid-chew as his gaze drifted to him. Although it hadn’t been intentional, he
might have stepped on a sore spot. “Otherwise, we probably would never
have met. I think we’ve gotten along great so far.”
The diviner looked at Asla, who wore a perplexed look for a moment
before she smiled. “I suppose there are benefits to my situation. I am lucky,
all things considered.” Jazai drew a quick breath of relief and continued to eat
his meal.
“What do you mean you are cuttin’ me off?” A loud, belligerent shout
stilled the conversation in the dining area. The group looked at the bar, where
a tall man in slightly tarnished armor was on his feet and yelled at the
barkeep. “I’m fine! I’ve had a long spell of travelin’ and simply want to relax.
You’re turning profit away, old man.”
 “You’re redder in the face than the leaves of the trees, pal,” the other man
chided. “I can’t have you collapsing outside the establishment—or plastered
while carrying that ax of yours.”
“He has an exotic,” Jazai noted and gestured to the man’s waist. Devol
narrowed his eyes and studied the one-handed, double-bladed ax, and he
noticed a rune carved into the flat side of each blade and an enchanted
pommel.
“I said I’m fine!” the man roared and slapped his hands on the bar. The
barkeep folded his arms and inclined his head toward the door. A few men in
the dining area stood in case the aggressive drunk tried anything. Doors from
the kitchen opened and a few of the larger staff members walked out. The
inebriated patron noticed their presence and looked over his shoulder before
he grunted and stormed away. “Fine! I’ll find another bar that respects my
cobalt.” He all but spat the words as he shoved the inn’s main door open and
slammed it behind him.
Those customers who had stood now sat again and continued to eat, while
the staff returned to their duties. A couple headed to the bar to check on the
older man as the three friends returned to their meal.
“That was a very nice exotic,” Devol mentioned. “But his armor wasn’t
well-kept. And if he spends money on drinks and overlooks something like
that, my guess is that he didn’t buy it.”
“It could be an heirloom,” Jazai suggested with a shrug as he finished one
of the chicken breasts. “Although if you’re implying he stole it or won it from
someone, those also seem likely. They aren’t as precious as they used to be,
after all.”
“Finished,” Asla declared and slid her plate away with a contented sigh.
Jazai and Devol stared down at the clean plate with amusement and surprise
respectively.
“You were much hungrier than you let on,” the swordsman mused.
“I finished cutting the fish while everyone was distracted,” she explained
and tapped her pointed nails together. “It made it a much faster process.”
“You can simply enjoy a meal now and then.” Jazai chuckled. “It’s not
like we’re going anywhere until that courier arr—”
Shouts and a series of loud noises from outside the inn startled those in
attendance. Devol looked at his teammates. The other boy was about to take
another spoonful of mashed potatoes but he sighed and placed the spoon on
his plate. “You want to check it out?” he asked. His friend nodded. “Bored or
worried?”
“A little of both, I suppose,” the young swordsman admitted.
The diviner frowned and glanced at Asla, who rubbed her claws together.
She met his gaze and shrugged and he stood with a sigh. “Fine, but I swear to
the heavens if my food is cold when I get back, I’m taking some of yours.”
“You don’t have to come,” Devol said as he pushed from his seat and
headed toward the door with the others close behind.
Jazai grinned cheekily. “Ah, guess I’m a little bored too.”
As they hurried out to see what all the commotion was about, a figure
watched them idly. He had listened to the various conversations around the
inn while he waited for a certain group to wander past. With a smile, he ran a
hand through his violet hair. It seemed he had found his target.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-F I V E

When Devol stepped outside, a crowd of people huddled in a circle in the

town’s square and a shattered cart with spilled jugs of ale and wine stood
nearby. He and his friends pushed through as someone cried out and
something landed with a loud clang. For a moment, he was afraid someone
had been killed, but his fears were assuaged when he reached the center. Two
men in uniforms with a red crest on their chests and arms signaling that they
were city patrol sprawled on the road but they were still breathing.
“Damn guards,” a drunk, bitter voice mumbled. The warrior from the inn
breathed heavily and stood over the guards with his ax in hand. “My day has
been bad enough. Don’t need you to make it worse.” He turned and focused
on the crowd as if he had only now noticed them. His irate gaze became an
angry glare as he spun completely and realized he was surrounded by curious
onlookers. “What are you staring at, huh? Get the hell out of here unless you
wanna end up like these two.”
That drew some concerned yelps and gasps but others in the crowd
looked like they did indeed want to challenge the drunkard. Devol beat them
to it. He was the first to move but took only a single step forward before a
hand grasped his arm.
When he looked over his shoulder, Jazai regarded him with a questioning
look. “Are you sure?” he asked, mainly to check before his friend involved
himself in a street brawl. The swordsman nodded and the other boy returned
it and released him. He moved quickly in front of the warrior.
“Hmm?” The man muttered and glowered at the young Magi. Now that
he was only a few feet in front of him, the full size of this man surprised him.
He was not as tall as Wulfsun, but only by a few inches. His muscles showed
that he was at least familiar with combat and training and the exotic ax was
also a sign that violence wasn’t uncommon for him, but he already had proof
of that now.
The warrior bent forward and his hand slipped off his knee before he
caught himself, propped himself a little more securely, and peered into the
boy’s eyes. “What do you want, kid?” He scowled. “Think ya are gonna be a
hero? I ain’t here to start trouble. Those guards came after me for nothin’.”
Devol pointed behind him to the destroyed cart. “Was that you?” he asked
and the man raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I saw you at the inn. You
wanted more to drink. My guess is you saw an opportunity to get ale and
broke the cart—on purpose or accidentally, it doesn’t matter. I would assume
that would count as disorderly conduct and theft.”
At the quiet challenge, the stern visage became even more aggressive and
the man clenched his teeth. His breath reeked of alcohol, heavy and almost
suffocating. So far, however, that was the only intimidating thing about him.
“So what? You wanna play guardsman?” The drunk growled in
annoyance, straightened to his full height, and rolled his shoulders. “Didn’t
work out for them two, did it?”
“I want you to apologize,” the boy announced and folded his arms.
“You’ve hurt two men and scared people in this town. You are a traveler,
right? That makes this worse. People live here and—”
“Shut yer trap, kid!” the warrior demanded and tossed his ax onto the
ground, where it cut through and sank into the cobblestone. “Like I’ll take a
lecture from some brat. Yeah, I am a traveler—a mercenary. And all I wanted
was a drink. I think I deserve a little hospitality.” He raised his hands in front
of him and formed them into fists that began to shake in anger. “And if you
and these other gnats don’t get out of my face, I’ll do more than scare ya.” He
gritted his teeth and his muscles became engorged and grew from their
already stocky girth to almost double in size. “See this? I can use my Mana to
enhance my strength, and I could probably already snap your tweedy little
neck without it.”
“That’s called Vis,” he corrected. And not proper Vis, either. It enhanced
the capabilities of the body but the whole point was that the Mana augmented
the user’s physical form. He merely injected it into his muscles, and while it
might have given him a small boost in strength and power similar to the
innkeeper in Bluebell, it provided nothing else. He might as well have worn a
suit of clay. “And you don’t have an Anima.”
 His opponent lowered his arms and tried to stand straight, but a slight
hunch in his posture ruined his efforts somewhat. The boy looked at him and
waited, amused by the way he craned his neck, which made it appear that a
shadow was cast over his eyes. “Vis? Anima? The hell is that?” The warrior
grunted dismissively.
Devol looked at the ax. Exotics were relatively easy to use but someone
not skilled in Mana arts would not get long or even effective use from them.
He now thought that his drunken opponent had very likely stolen it without
knowing what it was.
When he looked up, the warrior held his fist close to his face again.
“Spare me another speech, brat. I’ll give you one last chance to get the hell
away from here. If you want to face me as a warrior, I will treat you like
one.”
He met the man’s heated gaze and nodded. “All right, then do so and
we’ll make this quick.”
The anger faded momentarily to show confusion and surprise before a
grim smile formed on the warrior’s lips. “Wanna be a man, then?” he asked
and reached his arm back. “You ain’t ready for something like that.”
Devol held one finger up. “One thing before we start,” he said and the
aggressive drunk paused briefly. “I don’t want to cause more of a commotion
than you already have. So we will make this simple.” He looked at the man’s
enlarged biceps. “You seem proud of your muscles. So on the count of three,
we will each throw a punch. The one to knock the other down is the winner.”
He began to summon his Anima as he said the last few words.
His adversary responded with a howled laugh. “Are ya kidding me, boy?
I’ve got almost twice the reach you do, and that’s only the start of it!” His
laughter continued as he shook his head. “I guess I can give you points for
guts. Well, this was your call. Yer about to feel the punch of a real warrior.”
With a small nod, he drew one arm back and placed his fist against his
other palm to hold it in position. “Very well, on the count of three. One…
two…”
“I ain’t waitin’!” the man bellowed and swung his fist toward his young
adversary’s face. Devol’s Anima flared quickly to life but he was careful to
control it and use only enough to protect himself. The crowd hollered and
gasped as the punch landed and the drunk smiled when it connected. A
second later, his expression changed to one of shock when he realized that
the young Magi was unmoved. “What the hells?” He scowled as he moved
his fist away from the boy, who now stared at him with surprising calm.
“Three.” Devol finished the count, allowed his Anima to surge, and
launched a charged fist into the warrior’s gut. His adversary uttered a pained
shout as saliva spattered from his mouth. His feet lifted and he careened
down the street, made a clumsy landing, and skidded along the cobblestones
before he came to a stop in front of a group of guards who ran toward the
town center.
The crowd stood in silent shock for a few moments and the boy let his
Anima fade. As he composed himself, the spectators began to clap for him
along with nods and shouts of approval to congratulate him on his victory. He
waved a hand sheepishly to them in thanks as Jazai and Asla stepped beside
him. The diviner clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice work, man. You’ve
gotten the hang of Anima quickly.”
“Thanks. That week of training helped. I would probably have summoned
too much without proper control. He would have known something was up
even without knowing anything about Anima.”
“Or you might have killed him,” his friend pointed out “That was also
possible.”
“It is a little sad,” Asla said as three of the guards dragged the warrior out
of the street. “If he was speaking the truth, being able to survive this long as a
mercenary without proper Mana training shows that he at least has good
instincts and some discipline. What a waste.”
“If we’re done here,” Jazai began and stretched before he pointed at the
inn. “Let’s go finish our meals before they get cold.”
“You there!” Devol turned as a guard ran toward them. “Are you the one
who fought that ruffian?”
“Me?” he asked and pointed to himself. “I am.”
“Ah, come on guardsman!” a man shouted from the crowd. “Don’t tell
me you’re gonna bring him in for that. He stopped him from causing more of
a ruckus.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” the guard stated as he stopped in front of the
three youngsters. “I need a report, and the guardsmen who initially
confronted him are…well…” He and the young swordsman glanced to where
another of his comrades walked up to the two the drunk warrior had knocked
unconscious. “Probably not in the right headspace at the moment. I need to
ask a couple of quick questions.”
“Oh, all right.” He nodded and gestured to Jazai and Asla. “It’s all right
guys. I’ll be back soon.”
“Works for me.” The young diviner turned to stroll casually into the inn.
Asla fretted for a moment before she inclined her head in agreement and
followed the other boy inside. “I’ll make sure they bring more bread for you.”
“Sounds good!” he called to her before he turned to talk to the guard. The
other two men were escorted away for treatment as the crowd began to
disperse and return to their activities. The man asked his questions quickly
and seemed rather surprised that a young boy was able to hurl a large man
like that away with one punch. Fortunately, he seemed more knowledgeable
about the applications of Mana than the warrior so it was not too much of a
stretch for him. He thanked him for his assistance but stated that the next time
something like that happened, to summon the guards instead. They did not
want civilians to potentially get hurt.
Devol nodded and waved as he left. Two guardsmen approached the ax
and studied it cautiously. They probably needed to confiscate it given that it
had been used in a crime.
He had taken a couple of steps toward the inn to join his friends when he
felt an odd sensation like a mist enveloping him. He recalled a similar, albeit
heavier feeling before with Vaust. This was Anima. Hastily, he looked over
his shoulder and across the town center and his gaze settled on a figure that
seemed to stare directly at him. He couldn’t make out many details from this
far away other than purple-colored hair.
The figure slid into an alley and he hesitated as he considered calling the
others, then changed his mind. He didn’t know who this person was. Perhaps
it was the carrier? They did not call the password, though, so maybe it was
too busy in the town center and they didn’t want to draw attention to
themselves.
Instinctively, he reactivated his Anima and the heavy feeling dispersed as
soon as his was summoned. This did not feel quite as strong as Vaust’s, but
perhaps the stranger was deliberately hiding it. Well, there was a direct way
to find out. He marched toward the alley and while the claustrophobic feeling
from before was gone, he could not shake an ill sensation.
His hand hovered close to his blade. This mission might not be so simple
after all.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- S I X

“Excuse me?” Devol called as he entered the alley. It was shadowed but the
afternoon sun allowed sufficient light and he could see no one within. “Is
someone here?” He took a few more tentative steps and looked around for
signs of movement. The thoroughfare was as straight as an arrow. There were
some skinny crevices, perhaps, but nothing for anyone to hide behind and he
moved forward.
As he reached the halfway point, he felt nauseous and his hand moved
from the grip of his sword to his head. He steadied himself and breathed
deeply. His stomach felt like it was in knots. It could be the food, he
reasoned, but he had been fine a moment before.
“A wonderful display back there,” a charming, light voice proclaimed
playfully. When he looked behind him, his gaze settled on a tall, lithe man.
The stranger wore an ornate jacket of fine materials—white with purple
trimming a darker color than his violet locks. His hair seemed to have a life
of its own at odds with his tidy appearance. It swept fairly neatly over his
head and curved toward his neck before the ends stuck out from his head in
sharp points.
His grin was wide and he wore a simple black eyepatch over his right eye,
this one more form-fitting than Wulfsun’s with violet embroidery along the
edges. The one good eye looked welcoming, but it put the boy on guard
rather than giving him ease. “Someone as young as you has already begun to
learn the ways of Anima? I was beginning to think your generation was
becoming too reliant on exotics and novelties to be of much use as Magi.”
“Who are you?” Devol tried to remain standing as he fought the headache
that seemed to be growing worse. “Wait, were you staring at me before? How
did you get behind me?”
“That’s a simple trick for someone such as myself,” the man answered
and placed a hand on his shoulder from behind him. The boy whipped around
and staggered back as the stranger chuckled. “Sorry, I suppose that is rude of
me. I’m a Magi merely traveling the land and looking for work. I can get
bored rather easily, so when I run into other Magi of notable skill, I have to
have a little fun when I can.”
He stared at the odd Magi, a little concerned about the sensation that the
walls shifted or wobbled around him like he had come down with something
that left him feeling decidedly unwell. “I see. But you still haven’t introduced
yourself.”
While the man was eccentric, he did not appear to be overly menacing or
dangerous at present, even if the sight of him left him with an uneasy feeling.
“You are quite right.” The violet-hued stranger stood with his legs
together and made a deep, theatrical bow. “My name is Koli and as I said, I
am a wandering Magi.” He straightened and grinned disarmingly. “And who
might you be, my young friend?”
“I’m Devol,” he responded. “I’m…well, I suppose I don’t have a
profession yet but I’m in training.”
“Is that so? Training for what? I can’t help but notice that lovely sword of
yours.” Koli pointed at the majestic. Strangely, each of his fingernails were
sharpened to a fine point. “It looks nothing like any blade I’ve seen. Is it
some type of exotic? A family heirloom perhaps?”
“Yeah, an heirloom,” he lied and decided it was better to not give away
that it was a majestic in case the man knew what those were. “Something
crafted for my father before I was born. He wanted to give me a proper blade
when I started to take my practice seriously.”
“Aw, that’s heart-warming.” The man chuckled and folded his arms. “So
tell me little Magi, what brings you to Rouxwoods?”
“I’m…running an errand for my father,” he said. “I was having a meal
when the commotion broke out. I saw the drunk warrior and decided it was
best for me to handle him before he got out of control and that it would be
good training to see how I fared against him.”
“Well, you’ll certainly need more powerful sparring partners in the future.
He was no trouble at all, it seemed.” The strange Magi laughed and took a
couple of steps forward. Devol felt the nausea return in force and the alley
seemed to spin around him. “Perhaps,” he muttered as he leaned forward, “I
could help you with that.”
Devol wanted to respond with “maybe another time,” but his mouth felt
suddenly dry. He was too dizzy and simply shook his head as he rested
against the wall and slid down slowly. “What is… I feel so lightheaded…”
“Hmm?” Koli remarked. “Feeling a little under the weather, my friend?
We can’t have that. We’re in an alley!” He bent closer and his smile widened
and became a little devious as he stretched a hand toward the young man.
“Even in homely little towns such as this, many a terrible person can still be
wandering about.”
“Hey, Devol!” Jazai called. “Where are you, man?”
Koli grasped the young swordsman’s hand and helped him to his feet. “Is
that your friend?” he asked as he brushed a trace of dirt off his shoulder. “It
seems I’ve kept you for far too long.” He bowed again and smiled. “It was a
pleasure to meet you, little Devol. I hope you become a great Magi one day.”
With that, he began to walk away as the diviner stepped into view, saw Devol
in the alley, and jogged quickly to him. He passed the odd man, who didn’t
look at him as he turned left into the street.
“Hey, Devol,” Jazai began and studied him with concern. “You all right?
You’re sweating hard.”
“Yeah, I’m…” He drew in in a deep breath. “I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly
a lie because although he still felt a little dizzy, it certainly wasn’t as bad as it
had been a minute before. He shook his head and slapped his cheeks a few
times. “I felt a little dizzy there for a while. I think I’m getting over it,
though.”
“That’s good. We still have to complete the mission and it’s harder to do
that with you sick.” Jazai helped him up. “So, what took you so long? Did
you spend all this time chatting to that lady?”
He looked curiously at the scholar. “Lady? I guess he looked a little
feminine but that was a man.”
“You think?” The diviner grinned and shook his head. “The breasts are
usually a giveaway.”
Baffled, he looked at the entrance to the ally, then at his friend. “The
what?”
Vaust watched the two young Magi exit the alleyway, debating with one
another. He held Myazma in his hand under the cloak and had been prepared
to strike should the being have gotten any closer. Something was off about
the stranger who had approached Devol. He saw her dance around the boy as
if he could not see or feel her before she introduced herself to him. From his
vantage point, he couldn’t even get a proper description. It was like her
features were muddled. He clambered off the roof and stalked after the
stranger. Whether she was working with the enemy or merely a random thief
was something he had to find out. Because whatever she was, she was most
certainly not a simple traveler.
He kept his distance and drew his hood down to obscure his visage. It was
unlikely that these villagers would be surprised to see a realmer, but mori
were still a rather rare sight in this realm. Some of the more superstitious did
not hold them in high regard, so it was better that he did not cause a scene.
He sipped casually from his gourd as he continued to follow the woman, who
seemed to be studying something she had taken out of her pocket.
The Templar looked ahead and realized that they were headed to the
edges of town. His quarry veered through the people on the street as if she
intended to turn left into what appeared to be a less busy road. He would look
for an opportunity to confront her there—an alley or empty building—and
would rather take the risk that he was wrong than leave this woman to simply
wander about.
The stranger turned and Vaust used a small burst of Mana to sprint
forward quickly and try to keep her in his sights. When he turned the corner,
however, she was gone.
How did she escape? His Mana flowed into his eyes and he located the
trace remains of a violet-colored Mana only a few paces away. He extended
his hand so he could get a feel of it, and he felt a disconnect between it and
the user. This was some type of teleportation over a long distance. It had
probably been accomplished with a curio or trinket. Outside of blinking,
teleportation was not something a Magi could do so quickly on their own.
Vaust placed his kama into the sheath on the back of his waist and
debated his next step. This seemed a good indicator that it would not be as
simple a mission for him as he’d expected.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- S E V E N

When Koli reappeared, he was in the mouth of a cave a few miles outside of
Rouxwoods. He walked calmly inside and heard heavy, savage breathing
from within. “Salvo?” he called. “Are you still here, my friend?”
“Koli?” a voice responded with a chuckle and a fist-sized flame appeared
deeper within. “Finally. I was beginning to get bored here.”
“You could have participated,” he pointed out as he walked into the
spartan cave that contained only some bedrolls and the packs they had
brought with them—aside from their pet in the cage. “It may be a small town
but there are many people there we need to look into.”
“Hey now, someone has to make sure the big guy stays,” Salvo countered
and held the flame near his face to reveal a toothy grin against his tanned skin
and short-cropped white hair. “And remember who got us the information in
the first place, eh? I say I’ve been pulling my weight.”
“I’m not here to guilt-trip you,” he said, leaned against the wall, and
folded his arms. “But I was bored too, and lonely. I could have used the
company.”
Salvo approached his partner and studied him. “That dull, huh? Well,
maybe if I could see you in your female form, I would be more inclined.”
Koli shrugged. “I have no control over that. The rune on my neck creates
the illusion and you interpret what it shows you.”
The man rolled his eyes. “You keep saying that—like I would choose to
see a guy over a babe.” He cast his flame to the side, where it landed on a
stack of firewood, ignited it, and illuminated the cave. “So I take it you
weren’t able to find anything out today?”
“If that were the case, I wouldn’t have come back,” he stated with an
amused chuckle and held a card up. “I ran into an interesting group in the
square and one of them had this on him.”
He threw the card at his partner, who snatched it out of the air and studied
it. “Call sign is caw-caw? What the hell is this?”
“It appears to be instructions for a meeting,” he replied. “It says they will
meet by the evening of the twenty-first, which would be tonight.”
“Are you sure these are our guys?” Salvo asked and examined the card
again. “So what are we looking at? A team of Templars?”
“A team, yes,” he conceded. “But if they are Templars…well, they are
rather young.”
“So recruits or something?” his partner asked with a frown. “Is this some
kind of a joke? Why would they send brats to fetch it?”
“Brats,” said thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is quite apt, Salvo. From what I
saw, they were mostly teenagers.”
“A group of kids?” The man balked. “This ain’t gonna be fun at all.” He
hissed through his teeth as he stretched his neck and muttered. After a
moment, he stopped and turned slowly with his eyes narrowed. “Wait, you
said mostly?”
“Indeed I did,” Koli confirmed. “While I was preparing to head back, I
was followed by another Magi, this one quite skilled. I almost didn’t detect
him for a brief time. He hides his Mana well but I could feel a disturbance in
my area and my powers were being blocked,” he revealed. “I don’t know if
he is their leader or a third party, but he is quite powerful and either way, he
will probably be a not inconsiderable hindrance.”
“Is he strong?” Salvo asked and excitement crept into his voice. “Tell me
he is.”
“I didn’t fight him so I couldn’t tell you that.” The other man’s face fell
with undisguised disappointment. “Oh, don’t be like that. I said he was
powerful and good at controlling his Mana too. But that does not necessarily
mean he is a good fighter. You would be disappointed if I said he was and
turned out to be wrong.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” Salvo grimaced in irritation and looked at the card
again before he slid it into his pocket. “So these might be our guys. But we
still don’t know where they will meet.”
“I can take a guess,” Koli said and held a finger up. “Just before I ported
here, I saw an artifice in the sky.”
“An artifice?” His partner frowned, then shrugged. “One of those little
mechanical things? It could be something the guards use.”
“It was an exotic artifice,” he clarified with a smile. “And it was in the
shape of a bird.”
Realization dawned on the man’s face and he drew the card out and
looked at it again. His toothy grin returned. “Well, caw-caw then. Did you
see where it came from?”
“The forest on the west side of the village.” Koli pushed away from the
wall and walked to the cage. “I could trace the user of the artifice. They’ll
have to use Mana to control their device, after all. But it now seems like a
good opportunity to test your boss’ little project, don’t you think?”
Salvo’s grin faltered as he joined him to look into the cage. “Well…I
guess so. He did want us to do that,” he mumbled hesitantly. “Eh, but do you
think we should let the big guy out? It’ll cause a commotion.”
“And you won’t?” Koli asked, amused. “It’s not like you care all that
much about subtlety.”
The man rolled his shoulders and shrugged. “You got me there, I guess.
I’ll get the door.” As he reached for the lock, the cage began to rattle and the
occupant uttered a hungry, enraged roar. Birds took wing frantically outside
the cave, startled by the beast within.
“Maybe we should double-check that the runes are working,” his partner
said cautiously and took several steps back.
Koli laughed. “I think that would be smart of you.”

“Jazai, Devol,” Asla called as she ran up to them. “There you are.”
“Hey, Asla.” The diviner pointed to Devol. “I found our buddy. He got
stuck in an alley with some lady.”
“Lady?” the wildkin asked and looked at the other boy. “Alley?”
“I’m telling you he wasn’t a lady!” Devol repeated. “He was clearly a
man.”
“Slender body and long violet hair that went down to her waist,” his
friend recalled. “Are we talking about the same person?”
“To her waist?” Devol questioned. “He had long violet hair but it kind of
spikes away from his neck. If it were straighter, it would fall to maybe the
middle of his back.” He sighed and waved dismissively. “Whatever. It
doesn’t matter. Sorry for holding you two up.”
“It’s all good,” Jazai assured him. “I finished my meal, at least.”
“Speaking of which…” Asla handed the swordsman something wrapped
in cloth. “Here. I brought it for you since you didn’t get to finish.”
He opened the parcel to find a sandwich inside, made from the inn’s
bread and the rest of his meal. “Oh, thanks Asla!” he said happily and began
to scarf it with enthusiasm. As his teammates watched him, a bird cried
loudly above them. All three looked up as it continued to call over the town
square.
“Man, that is loud,” Jazai grumbled and put his hands over his ears. “I
thought birdsong was supposed to be pleasant.”
“It’s not birdsong,” Asla stated and studied it with a frown of
concentration. “It’s a message.”
“Hmm?” Devol swallowed a mouthful. “A message?”
“Remember the call sign?” she prodded.
“Caw-caw?” Jazai said quickly. “Wait, the bird is our carrier?”
“No, the owner is,” she replied. “And that’s not a bird—not a real one
anyway.”
The two boys narrowed their eyes at the large avian that seemed to look
directly at them. It appeared to nod and spread its wings that looked almost
segmented. It banked into a turn and headed toward the forest.
“I hope you can run and eat, Devol,” Asla said as she began to pursue it.
“I’m more used to it than she probably thinks,” he told Jazai as he took
another bite and they hurried behind her through the village and into the
woods.
They ran along the ground for a while, but when they reached a safe
distance from the settlement and away from curious eyes, they began to leap
up through the trees to get a better view of the bird as they traveled deeper
and deeper into the woods.
“These red leaves are so pretty,” Asla noted as she pushed forward
through the various hues of red and orange that adorned the trees.
“Ah, that hit the spot,” Devol said merrily as he patted his hands to get rid
of any crumbs. “I was worried that I had lost my appetite.”
Jazai shook his head. “I would think eating and running so quickly would
make you sick.”
“You know, I think it should too,” he agreed. “But it has never been a
problem for me.”
 “The bird is circling,” Asla informed them and pointed. “Over there.”
It flew around a patch of land a few hundred yards ahead. The friends
nodded to one another as they dropped from the branches and onto the forest
floor as they approached, looking for the owner. The avian swooped from
overhead, passed them, and landed on the waiting arm of a figure in deep
brown leathers with a blue tunic and cowl.
“Are you the carrier?” Devol asked.
“It’s one of the things I do,” the man stated and regarded the three of
them curiously. “Among many things. I suppose I could be a carrier for you,
but I wouldn’t know that without knowing who you are first.”
He nodded and pointed to himself. “Oh, well I’m Dev—”
Jazai held a hand out to interrupt him. “That’s not what he means, Devol.
He’s looking for proof that we’re here for the box.”
The young swordsman nodded. “Right, let me find the card.” He began to
search through his pockets but it wasn’t there. Confused, he frowned and
tried to think where he might have dropped it.
“Even in the storms, the light will break through,” the diviner stated. The
stranger nodded and relaxed. The other two glanced at their teammate. “It’s a
passcode,” he explained. “We have several different ones depending on who
we’re working with. Zier makes me learn all of them when they change.”
“So, new Templar recruits, eh?” the man chuckled as the bird—which
appeared to be much like a falcon if it weren’t for the odd movements and
box-like head—scuttled up his arm and onto his shoulder. “You’re very
young, I have to say.”
“It isn’t something they usually do,” Asla stated. “Send young trainees,
that is, without at least one experienced Templar. I guess they had their
reasons, though.”
“I suppose,” the man conceded and lowered his cowl. He appeared to be
in his mid-forties with black hair tied into a bun, a handlebar mustache, and
deep-set gray eyes. “Nice to meet you. My name is Zeke of the Britana
Hunter’s Guild.” He gave them a nod and confident smile. “Today, I am a
carrier, and I think I have a package here for you three.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-E I G HT

Zeke patted his artificial bird and it launched from his shoulder and flew to a
tree behind him as he walked to a small green sack nearby. He picked it up
and returned as he unwound the knot on the top. “I have to admit, this was a
first for me,” he stated as he slid the bag open and revealed a locked black
box within. “Normally, we try to give these a wide berth, but it basically fell
into our lap.”
“So what is it?” Devol asked as he took the item. Almost immediately, he
felt a powerful burst of dread and his hands began to shake.
“Devol?” Asla asked as she stepped forward hastily to place her hand on
his. “What is wr—” When she touched it, her tail went stiff and her eyes
widened as she looked at it.
A firm hand settled on their shoulders. “Take a deep breath,” Jazai
instructed. “It ain’t gonna harm you, not as long as it stays in there. Relax.”
The two responded with quick nods and tried to steady themselves with deep
breaths as they brought their Anima up.
“So you know what it is?” Zeke asked him.
The apprentice shrugged. “I can guess—something I tried to do ever since
we got the mission. But seeing their reaction and that hint of twisted Magic?
I’m fairly sure.”
“So your leaders didn’t tell you?” the man asked and he shook his head.
“Well then, I guess it isn’t my place to fill you in. I merely ran it here.” He
returned to his original position and picked his large backpack up. “Sorry to
toss my job onto you, but I have other messages and items I need to get to
their recipients much farther from here. My advice is to get that back to your
order as quickly as yo—”
 The carrier’s mechanical bird began to caw loudly and urgently. Zeke
took a monocle out of his jacket pocket. “What in the hell is it squawking
about?” he muttered as he placed the eyewear on. His body stiffened and he
gasped in surprise. “Get out of here!” he ordered and turned as his bird flew
skyward and dived sharply toward something deeper into the forest. “Hurry! I
don’t think I can hold it off for long.”
“What’s going on?” Devol asked and snapped back to the present as he
tied the box to his belt. “If it is an enemy, we can help.”
“It isn’t that simple,” the man warned. “This may be beyond the four of
us combined.” At a loud crack, he staggered and dropped to his knees. His
monocle fell and shattered. The three rushed forward as he clutched his arms,
and fresh scratch marks were visible on his hands.
“He must have had a link to his bird to control it,” Jazai muttered. “His
exotic was wounded so some of that damage reflects onto him like a
majestic.”
“It wasn’t merely wounded,” Zeke stated, his voice cold and angry. He
stood slowly and unhooked a pair of hatchets from his belt. “It was destroyed.
My artifact once took a full-force hit from an exotic morning star and simply
shook it off— What the hell am I giving you the details for. Get away!” A
loud, angry roar issued from the tree line. “That monster is here.”
A beast took hold of two trees outside the clearing, split them apart, and
tossed Zeke’s mechanical bird at his feet. Devol took a step back, awed and
terrified by the creature before him. It looked humanoid—or at least was at
some point—and had dark-gray skin with blotches of white around its arms
and waist. The monster was massive, easily nine feet tall or more, with a
wave of stringy black hair.
Its arms seemed to be bigger than his body, with fists that looked like
they could crack his chest with a single blow. But the mask on its face drew
his immediate attention. It looked like it was modeled after the demons he
had heard about in scary stories shared by other children in his youth. The
black background was broken by a wide grin of white or silver-painted teeth,
and pure white eyes stared angrily at them. He was unsure if they were its
own eyes or the mask’s. Traces of red paint or some smooth material
underlined the sockets and curved around the top to give the appearance of
horns.
“That’s…” Jazai began and paused to gather his words as his eyes
widened and he balled his fists. “That’s a malefic.”
 Devol looked at his teammates, who were both in shock. Before he could
ask what that was, Zeke cried, “Goliath!” The two hatchets in his hands grew
to the size of battle-axes as he summoned his Anima. It was the color of the
open sky and surrounded him and the weapons. He roared and charged as the
boy reached for his sword.
He was given a quick demonstration of how futile joining this fight would
be. As the man hurled one of the axes at the terror, he leapt upward as high as
he could to try to sink the other blade into its head. The monster merely
growled as the thrown weapon struck its chest and sank home, but no blood
followed. It seemed indifferent to both the blade and the injury and simply
ignored them as it extended a long limb and snatched Zeke before he could
land.
The beast’s hand almost encircled the carrier’s entire torso. He still
attempted to attack the monster’s head but it responded by headbutting the ax
as it descended and shattered the blade. The man cried out in pain his captor
squeezed relentlessly, and his metal chest plate bent under the strain.
Zeke was thrown onto the forest floor and blood spurted from his mouth
as the monster raised a leg. Devol wanted to rush forward to try to distract it,
but before he could move more than a step, the creature stamped its foot
down. Bones crushed and broke and after another burst of blood, the man was
no more.
“We should have taken his advice,” Jazai stated and his voice cracked
slightly. “We need to go!”
“But…” Asla began and her slight frame trembled. “Can we even outrun
it?”
Both boys felt a new twinge of fear. She was the fastest among the three
and had the best instincts for battle and reading an opponent. If she doubted
they could flee, it was almost assured that they could not.
Devol drew his sword and held it out in front of him. “Even if we could,
we would simply lead it to the village or get lost deeper in the forest,” he
surmised. “I don’t want my last actions to be flight, especially if it is
pointless.”
Although his teammates did not completely snap out of their shock, his
words did reach them. Jazai held his tome up as Asla hunkered in a battle-
ready stance. Both would fight alongside him for however long they could
last.
The monster looked at them after it ground its foot into Zeke’s corpse
again. It stepped forward and the young swordsman noticed how little its
body moved—like it was not even breathing. Furiously, it pounded its chest
before it crouched and prepared to attack them. They waited anxiously but
instead, it slumped and uttered a gurgling noise. The three were confused but
none let their guard down. About a dozen shapes glowed purple around its
neck—no doubt runes of some kind.
“Now, now, let’s not get too hasty,” a familiar voice sang. The group
spun toward the trees from which two figures emerged, one with snowy white
shaved hair, a long dark coat, and red-lensed glasses. The other was very
familiar.
“You!” Devol shouted and pointed to the second figure. “You’re the man
from the alley—Koli!”
“I’m so glad you remembered,” the newcomer said with a smile and a
bow. “I suppose it has only been a short time since then but I would be more
saddened if you had forgotten so soon.”
“So that’s the kid you ran into?” the other man asked. “They are simply a
group of brats, huh? But they all got majestics.” He smiled, slid his hand into
the left sleeve of his jacket, and removed a wand made of dark-black wood
that coiled around a red jewel at the top. “This could be a very productive
day.”
“Calm yourself, Salvo,” Koli ordered and frowned at his partner. “We are
here to test the ghoul, not indulge ourselves.”
“I think we’ve already seen what it can do.” His partner chuckled and
pointed at Zeke’s corpse with his wand. “I don’t know if he was a great Magi
or fighter or anything, but he was a member of the Britana Hunter’s Guild
and the big guy killed him in minutes without a scratch.”
The violet-hair man sighed and pointed at the monster’s chest, where
Zeke’s other ax was still implanted. “I would say that qualifies as more than a
scratch.”
“Oh, yeah.” Salvo sighed. “Ah well, still no harm done. Why do you need
to dodge when you can shrug a beating off, right?”
Koli frowned at his partner before he rolled his eyes. “That’s one way of
looking at it, I suppose.” He focused on the three friends. “Now on to you as
you can see we’ve called our little pet off.” He gestured toward the monster.
“But that can change in an instant if we would like it to. While I can’t speak
for my partner, I would rather spare you today.”
“Do what?” Jazai questioned.
 “Yeah, Koli,” Salvo stated irritably. “We should take their majestics.
Why do you want to leave them be?”
The man scanned the three and tapped a finger on his chin before he
focused on Devol and licked his lips. “They have potential but they aren’t
quite ripe yet.”
They were somewhat unnerved by Koli’s longing, devious stare, and his
partner shook his head. “That junk again? How many times has that paid off?
How many good fights have you had by letting someone live to come back
for you?”
“Exactly twice out of roughly fifty-seven times,” the violet-haired man
responded and his smile widened. “And both those times—even a single
fight, to be honest—makes the possibility worth it.”
Salvo twirled his wand in his hand. “Damn, you are freaky, but whatever.
We still need that box.”
“Quite right.” Koli nodded and ran one hand through his violet hair as he
pointed at the box now attached to Devol’s belt. “My young friend, I’ll be
happy to let you and your teammates leave here unscathed if you simply hand
the box over with the contents inside.” He shifted his hand to indicate the
monster. “Otherwise…” He flipped his hand and pressed his middle finger
and thumb against one another. “Well, I think you can guess that much.”
“Take the box and run,” the young swordsman instructed his teammates.
“I’ll keep them at bay.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Jazai hissed his exasperation. “I won’t leave you and
besides, you wouldn’t last long enough for it to matter.”
As much as he wanted to refute that, he had to admit his friend was right.
He might be able to hold the beast off for a minute or two, and that was
assuming Koli and Salvo did not jump in.
“And…” Asla began and clenched her teeth. “And it is our mission to
bring the box back. I would rather die fighting to protect it than return in
disgrace.”
The boys looked at her, surprised by the fierce determination that grew in
her eyes. Jazai sighed and nodded. “I guess we’re committed, and we all
know how this will probably end, huh?” His friends simply nodded as they
once again positioned themselves in preparation to fight. The diviner held his
free hand up and ran through cantrips in his mind. “Well, all right then.”
Salvo looked at the three young Magi who stood ready for battle, then at
Koli, who smiled in genuine delight. “Marvelous,” the man remarked as he
prepared to free the monster.
“Whatever.” His partner walked to a standing tree and leaned against it
with his arms folded. “It works out for me. We get some new majestics and
our box. Make it quick so we can get out of here.”
“That’s not up to me,” Koli remarked as he snapped his fingers and the
runes around the monster’s neck faded. “It is up to him.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-N I N E

The beast roared to life. It hammered its fists into the ground before it
launched itself high, its target the trio of young Magi below.
“Scatter!” Devol shouted, and they raced out of the way in different
directions as the giant landed. He was almost upended by the shockwave of
the impact. It swung an arm toward Asla, who was able to leap over it, but
the massive arm battered two trees behind her, destroyed them, and scattered
splinters and dust around her to blind her briefly. It reared in preparation for
another strike.
A moment before it swung, Jazai blinked next to her, caught hold of her
shirt, and blinked away before the massive fist connected. They appeared
near their friend and the diviner scrambled to his feet and pointed at their
adversary. “Chains!” he shouted and deep-blue chains of Mana wound
around the titan’s arms and neck in an attempt to keep it in check.
From behind them, Salvo laughed loudly. “Is that all you got?”
The monster uttered a belligerent growl, flexed its muscles, and snapped
the restraints.
“What the hell?” the boy muttered. “I don’t sense an Anima from it. How
did it break my cantrip?”
“I’ll say it is a safe bet that it isn’t normal,” the swordsman responded and
prepared to strike when the monster made another assault. The expected
attack did not come, however. The giant sagged, its knuckles dug into the dirt
and grass, and it began to twitch.
“What did you do?” The question was asked by Devol and Salvo at the
same time. The young diviner shook his head. He hadn’t done anything but
use the chains cantrip, and Koli didn’t respond. He simply narrowed his eyes
at the creature. The giant took a rather shaky step forward and its skin had
become noticeably paler. Its bulging muscles began to shrink and wither
along with its entire body. Finally, it fell and the two groups stared at a large
black wound in its back. A figure in a black cloak holding a kama stood
behind it.
“Mr. Lebatt!” Devol shouted when he recognized him.
“Vaust?” Jazai asked and gaped at the mark on the giant’s back that
spread rapidly along its entire body. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe that gentleman was the one who was tailing me earlier.” Koli
bit his lip. “It appears he is affiliated with the children.”
“Yeah, I could have guessed,” Salvo grumbled and pushed away from the
tree. “Well, now we have to retrieve the mask and the box.”
“It won’t be an issue. I’ll take care of it,” his partner offered.
“Fine, then I’ll take care of the new guy and the brats,” he stated, which
drew a chuckle from Koli.
“Quite confident, aren’t you?” He patted his violet hair before he placed
his hands in his pants pocket and approached the slain giant.
“Hurry up,” his partner instructed and smiled as he spun the wand in his
hand. “I get to play now.”
Vaust saw the violet-haired man approach and pointed his kama at him.
“Halt, or I’ll kill you as well.”
“I have no doubt,” the man said with an easy smile and stopped only a
few yards away from the mori. “You have made short work of our pet. I’m
impressed.”
“Why are you here?” the Templar asked and let his Anima seep through
the area as a warning sign to the two thieves.
“It was requested of us,” Koli answered. “I cannot divulge by who.”
“Perhaps not right now,” he retorted and revealed an air of menace and
command that Devol had not seen in him before. “But I can make you talk. I
merely wonder how many appendages it will take.”
“Oh, that is quite violent of you.” The man closed his eyes for a moment
and violet Mana covered his form. “I must say, I approve.”
Vaust leapt at him with his kama raised to arc in almost a blur at his
adversary. He covered the distance in less than a second and to Devol, it felt
like it was almost instant. Before the kama struck its target, however, Koli
vanished in a flash of violet light. He reappeared beside the monster, which
had now almost melted into bone and viscera. He reached down hastily and
took the mask it had once worn before he turned and looked at the young
swordsman.
“Devol!” Vaust called and Asla and Jazai prepared to fight. Instead of
attacking, the man disappeared again, blinked behind him, and yanked the
box from his belt. He spun and swung his sword. It seemed clear that it would
connect with his arm and that the thief was too close to jump back. But in a
moment, what had seemed so clear had suddenly changed. Koli was now
several inches away without stepping back at all. Devol could not believe his
eyes as the blade passed in front of the Magi’s tunic. Stunned, he looked at
his opponent, who gave a self-satisfied smile before he blinked back to the
trees outside of the clearing.
“You are going nowhere!” Vaust yelled and prepared to leap after him.
Before he could move, a large circle of fire caged him in, followed by rows
of flame that formed above him. The Templar looked at Salvo, who pointed
his wand and grinned at him.
“That’s my line, buddy.” The man laughed. “You and I will have some
fun. Get out of here, Koli!” he shouted to his partner, who placed two fingers
against his forehead to salute him in thanks and raced through the trees.
Devol grimaced, determined to not let him take the box. He ran after him
and jumped into the trees as Salvo pointed his wand in his direction and
launched a large fireball at him from the tip of his wand. Calmly, the boy
leaned closer to slash the fiery projectile with his blade. With a single swipe,
the orb was halved, then snuffed out, and he continued with his pursuit and
left his attacker standing with a look of surprise on his face.
The man formed two more fireballs as Jazai and Asla followed their
friend and he launched them both at the youngsters. She maneuvered easily
around them while her teammate blinked to the ground and immediately into
the tree. Both projectiles struck nearby trees and set them alight.
“Damn, I guess they aren’t such easy pickings,” the fire mage muttered
and glowered at Vaust. “Ah, whatever. Consider that a warm-up. Heh, I’ll be
on my game now.”
“Release me,” the mori ordered and brandished Myazma, “and I’ll make
this quick.”
Salvo frowned and shook his head. “You noble and devout types always
have the same lines.” He pointed his wand at the cage of fire again. “Survive
this and you might provide a good fight.” The flames began to increase in
size as the cage retracted slowly around the Templar. It seemed his adversary
intended to burn him alive while he was trapped inside.
He simply raised his weapon and cut into the fire in front of him, which
vanished in a fog of darkness that traveled through the connected flames. The
fire mage stared in surprise before his eager smile returned. “I had a feeling
that was it, looking at what you did to the big guy,” he stated and tapped his
wand against his shoulder. “Your majestic has corrosive power or something
like that, right? You turned our giant pet ghoul into mush so it has to be
something like that. I didn’t expect it to work on flames, though.”
Vaust walked forward and pointed at Salvo. “Immolation.” The man
barely had time to raise an eyebrow before his suit was set aflame. He uttered
a surprised yell and patted frantically at the flames that engulfed him. In mere
minutes, he sagged to the ground.
But, as quickly as he fell, he stood and twirled his wand in his fingers and
the flames vanished. The mori stopped in his tracks as his opponent raised a
finger and wagged it sideways. “Was that supposed to be just desserts or
something? You see me throwing flames and think that a simple fire cantrip
is gonna work on me? My clothes aren’t even singed.” He ran a hand down
his jacket to prove his point and held his wand up “This isn’t merely an
exotic, buddy. It’s a majestic like yours. I call her Kapre.” A large orb of fire
formed above his head before it split into a dozen smaller ones. “And she
doesn’t like you.” He flicked the wand toward Vaust and a hail of fireballs
streaked at the mori, who simply stared at them while Myazma emitted its
black fog.

Koli leapt off a tree branch before he blinked to another tree in the opposite
direction. He had to admit, the boy was faster than he gave him credit for—
not enough that he could catch up but certainly fast enough to keep the chase
interesting. He had slid the mask into his tunic and held onto the box. While
he knew he should have used his marble to return to base by now, this was
too much fun. If Salvo’s boss had an issue…well, he couldn’t use a marble
with an enemy so close. They could potentially track it.
“Missile!” a voice shouted ahead of him. He looked around to see the
book-boy pointing at him. Several glowing orbs launched from his palm.
Well, he hadn’t expected him to cut him off. He must have been too
preoccupied with the other young Magi. Jazai fired five Mana missiles at him
and he barreled into them. They curved around him and shocked the
apprentice, who had expected his attack to deliver some injury at least.
With a smile, he removed several small blades from his belt and threw
them at the diviner. The boy blinked out of the way of the blades, which
wasn’t an issue. He wasn’t the one he was interested in.
“Link!” Jazai shouted, and Koli felt something drag him back.
He craned his neck to look over his shoulder. A line of blue Mana
connected to his back. He followed it to the boy, who hauled on the line and
prevented him from moving forward. “You are crafty. I respect that,” he
conceded as he grasped the link and his Anima flared. “But you don’t seem to
think of the repercussions of your cantrips.” He yanked hard and dragged his
young opponent out of the tree toward him. When he came within striking
range, he delivered a punch to his face that catapulted him into the forest. He
raised his hand and severed the link with a chop before the diviner could drag
him back with him.
As he turned to continue his run, he felt a sudden flare of Mana coming
closer. Instinctively, he ducked and several small trees were scored with what
looked like claw marks. He straightened and Asla landed on her hands on the
ground and tucked her legs in to kick him. She was amazingly fast, he had to
give her that as he brought an arm up to block the kick and infused it with
Mana. The wildkin drove into him and knocked him back, and he slid deeper
into the forest before he finally came to a stop on the road.
Koli checked his arm. It had been a powerful kick but left no more than a
slightly pink bruise. He looked around and realized he had been knocked off-
course. Before he could gain his bearings, he heard a rustle and looked up.
Devol plunged toward him, his blade pointed at his head. He smiled. Well, it
appeared he would have to fight for a while. This was certainly not the worst
outcome.
It was a pity, though. Maybe in a few years, the boy would have made a
great adversary. It looked like he would have to find another prospect after
today, although perhaps he would last at least a few minutes.
 CHAPTER THIRTY

As Devol landed, his blade struck nothing but the earth below. He looked up
to where Koli stood only a few inches away from him. The man lifted a hand
and swung the back of his palm across his head, almost dislodged his sword,
and hurled him several yards away. He flipped himself in midair and stopped
himself with his hand. Asla bounded out of the forest to attempt a kill-strike.
Their adversary simply lowered his head and her claws swiped through
empty space and scored the bark of the trees. She bounced off one of the
trunks for a second strike.
The man looked at her and made no effort to defend himself as her claws
lunged at his eye. Impossibly, they stopped barely short of a strike and Devol
couldn’t believe it. He had been so certain she would land a sure hit. Koli
snatched her arm, spun her, and flung her at the young swordsman. He caught
her and both stumbled back a couple of feet as their friend appeared next to
them. “He’s strong,” he muttered.
“No kidding,” Jazai mumbled, holding his cheek. “And I didn’t say this
before but come on, man. That’s a she!”
“What?” He looked at Koli in confusion. “It’s a man with spiky violet
hair, isn’t it?”
“I see a man as well, Jazai,” Asla confirmed and the other boy raised an
eyebrow as he examined their adversary. “But I do not see the spiky hair
either, Devol. I see long hair that hangs down his back.”
Devol stared at Koli and tried to discern the truth. “Some type of
illusion?”
The man smirked and nodded. “People tend to see what they want to but
it is more literal in my case.” He used his free hand to point to the back of his
neck. “I have a rune—had it since I was a child, actually. It casts a simple
illusion that alters my appearance enough that my visage always looks
slightly different to each person.”
“I see you as a woman,” the diviner told him. “They see you as a man.
That doesn’t sound like a slight difference.”
“My power increases the effectiveness of the illusion,” Koli explained.
He tossed the box behind him and rolled his shoulders. “Or, I should say, the
power of my malefic.”
Jazai tensed, as did Asla. “Malefic?” Devol repeated and glanced at the
other boy. “When we saw that mask, you said the same thing.”
The scholar nodded slowly and his jaw tightened. “I can’t give you the
entire explanation, not when we need to focus. But they are extremely
dangerous and work similarly to a majestic.” He held a hand up. “I don’t
know what his power is, but it seems to protect him from almost anything.
Watch. Missile!” He launched five orbs at Koli. They circled him for a
moment before each attempted to strike from a different angle. The man did
not move, but each orb slid around his body. Two impacted with the road
while three redirected and headed at the team. Asla jumped out and slashed
with her claw to send a Mana-infused strike through the missiles that
destroyed them.
“I was controlling those missiles before they attacked,” Jazai stated.
“They should all have hit, but they veered around him.”
“I saw.” Devol nodded. “Is it another illusion? Maybe a power that lets
him control the Magic of others?”
“No, he has been able to do that even against physical attacks,” Asla
reminded him.
“You are thinking about this too hard,” Koli all but purred. “Here, allow
me to show you.” He pulled his eyepatch off and the team gasped. His other
eye had been replaced by some type of dark orb that shifted between hues of
violet, purple, blue, and white at a rapid pace. Something that resembled an
iris was in the center, but more elongated and diamond-shaped. He pointed to
the unnatural eye. “This is my malefic, known as Madman’s Eye,” he
explained with a hint of mirth. “It allows me to distort space around me.”
“Distort space?” The swordsman frowned and considered his missed
attacks. “I see.”
“Why would you tell us that outright?” Jazai demanded. “That’s putting
you at a major disadvantage.”
 Their adversary laughed. “Thank you for your concern but I think I’ll be
fine.” He stared at them for a moment, enjoying their discomfort. “You see,
my malefic gets stronger when it can see the target or area I wish to distort.”
“He doesn’t feel any stronger,” Asla noted before she looked down and
realized she had an orange glow around her. “My Mana—” She gasped as she
backed away.
“It responded automatically to mine increasing to shield against you,”
Koli explained and pointed two fingers at the two boys. “As did yours.”
Devol saw a silver glow around him, while Jazai’s was a deep-blue. His
sword began to glow brighter.
“It’s a good thing too,” the man noted. “A strong Anima is one of the few
things that protects one from my power. If you did not have one…well, I
could simply snap your neck in an instant.”
He held his blade up. “Why are you telling us all this?”
The man shrugged casually. “Well, I suppose that in my line of work,
people not knowing my identity is quite useful. I don’t often get the chance to
have a good fight and fully sate my bloodlust,” he explained with a grin that
grew more deviant by the moment. “I see promise in you three and I want to
have a little fun, so I’ll give myself a handicap as it were.”
“You think this is fun? You take lives for pleasure?” the young
swordsman demanded.
“For work as well,” Koli added and glanced at the trees. “I am an
assassin, after all. It’s what I’m supposed to do. Still, I hope you can amuse
me, at least for a while. But I don’t think a sneak attack is very sporting.”
“Sneak?” Jazai looked confused but his eyes widened when he realized
Asla was missing.
She bounded out of the woods and the orange Mana around her took the
form of a large, feral tiger. Both arms extended to rake her claws at him but
he looked calmly at her as a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. In
the next moment, the wildkin flipped and fell face-down. She tried to pick
herself up but seemed to be held in place on all fours. “There’s a good kitty,”
the man whispered
“Asla!” her friends shouted and Devol lifted his sword, ready to attack.
“This is exciting,” the strange Magi said thoughtfully. “Her Anima is
keeping her alive against my malefic’s power, but how long will it last? If she
runs out…well, I hope she is quite flexible.” He glanced at a fallen tree and it
elevated sharply and broke apart to create several spears that pointed toward
the boys. “Now, satisfy me.”

Vaust leapt back as a whip of flame ignited in the place where he’d stood and
a small pillar of fire flared. He spun Myazma and released the dark fog to
snuff out some of the flames. Salvo had not held back and had cast his fire in
different shapes and forms and with abandon. He strolled casually through
them as the mori weaved and dodged around the fiery pits and attacks.
“Man, this forest went up fast,” the man stated when he noticed the many
burning trees around them. “The village has probably noticed by now. I
wonder if they can put it out?”
The Templar saw his chance and sneaked the fog around several of the
flames outside of his adversary’s line of sight. He needed to strike him with
his weapon to ensure the kill, but infecting him with the fog would deplete
his Mana and break his control briefly, which would provide an opening. The
fog surged toward the fire Magi, who noticed it when it was only a few feet
away.
Quickly, he flipped his wand and tapped it against his jacket, which set it
aflame. The fog met the garment and began to snuff the flames rapidly while
he slid the jacket off and moved away from the fog. “Clever bastard.” He
grinned at the Mori. “You’re wilier than I gave you credit for. And even
amongst all this fire, you don’t look like you are breaking a sweat. Is that a
mori peculiarity?”
Vaust made no response and simply recalled the fog to the kama as he
approached his opponent. “If this is your only trick, I’ve had my fill.”
“I have a specialty,” Salvo retorted. “But more than one trick—take a
look.” He held the wand skyward. The flames launched from the trees and
they elevated above the two men, where they formed into a multitude of
fireballs in different sizes. “My majestic allows me to control fire, not merely
create it,” he explained. The mori made a hasty count of the orbs—fifty-five
in all and some were rather sizeable. This much pyro could potentially burn
the entire forest down. “Doing something like this with Mana alone would be
too much for me, but throwing a few of these orbs around to spread the fire
makes this much easier.”
He closed his eyes and rested Myazma against his shoulder “It is indeed
impressive,” he admitted. “A pity you use it for simple mercenary work.”
The man’s grin faltered. “This is more than turning in a bounty, mori. I’m
doing a mission for someone, same as your brats.”
“And who might that be?”
“It won’t matter to you in a minute,” Salvo stated and his grin returned.
“Besides, even if I do use it to get rich, it’s better than what my master was
doing—simply studying the damn thing all the time.”
“That is your master’s majestic?” Vaust asked.
“Former master. It’s a little hard to teach when you’re dead. But it doesn’t
matter. I had more of a knack for it than he ever did. He once said it took him
seven years to master it. Then he spent over a decade studying it. I could use
Kapre the first time I picked her up, almost like she wanted me to wield her.”
“So, I take it you never progressed very far in your training?”
Salvo began to twirl his wand in the air. “I got the gist, you could say.
Natural talent beats book smarts any day.”
“I see.” The Templar held Myazma out to his side. “And you may be
right in some circumstances. But in our world, you strive to learn all you can
or you will never evolve.” The black fog consumed the majestic before it
spread around him.
“Wait, what are you—” The man felt intense pressure and a feeling of
terror overcame him.
“I’m going to show you something your master never had the chance to,”
Vaust said, his voice eerily calm as the fog began to fade.
His adversary’s eyes widened and he gestured hastily with his wand to
launch the hail of fireballs at the mori. An explosion of darkness turned the
projectiles to ash and any remaining flames extinguished while all the plant
life around Vaust withered instantly and died.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y- O N E

Koli could no longer feel Salvo’s presence. Had he died? No, his Mana had
vanished all at once instead of gradually so he must have used the marble to
teleport out of the forest. He could still sense the mori’s Mana very keenly. In
fact, it was stronger and had grown to the point where it was almost
sickening. He heard a grunt and looked at where Asla strained against the
warped area she was contained in. Distracted by the possible fate of his
partner, he had almost slipped. It would be bad form to have this battle end
due to their negligence. A better option would be that Devol finally attacked.
A hasty glance at the swordsman confirmed that he’d had the same
thought and was now only several feet away. The boy began to swing his
blade—valiant but foolish, of course. He began to shift the space in front of
the blade enough for it to swing harmlessly to his side, which would leave his
young opponent wide open.
The light in the blade flared and it corrected its trajectory to remain on a
direct course toward him. He was surprised and the young Magi seemed a
little shocked too, although it was mostly masked by his anger.
Unfortunately, he could not move if he continued to hold the girl in place. He
needed to concentrate to keep her there, but it looked like that was no longer
an option.
Regretfully, he released his hold on the wildkin and jumped back. The
blade sliced along his chest and when he landed, he checked his tunic. It
appeared that it had narrowly missed the flesh although it had certainly cut
the tunic rather cleanly. But as he raised his fingers, he felt a warm substance
on them and he scowled at the blood that stained their tips. Small droplets of
it seeped through the garment along his sternum.
 He looked at Devol, who was helping the girl up, and smiled. While he
was unsure if this was his skill alone or something to do with the majestic he
wielded, it appeared that his intuition was quite right. The boy would make a
wonderful plaything in the future.
For now, however, he needed to complete the mission. He’d had his fun,
but with the real Templar approaching, he could not guarantee the retrieval of
the box. While he might be able to defeat the mori, the younglings could
easily escape with the box. If they found an anchor point…well, all would be
lost. He turned to snatch the prize but before he could, it sparkled with blue
light, elevated sharply, and hurtled to Jazai, who smiled cunningly at the
thief.
Koli frowned slightly. “You are becoming annoying.”
“I pride myself on that,” the diviner retorted and pointed three fingers at
him. “Bolt.” Three Mana arrows formed and launched at his adversary much
faster than his missiles had. The man’s Anima surged and a wave of his arm
simply knocked the projectiles away.
His malefic flashed and the earth began to shift around the young
apprentice. The ground burst open and threatened to swallow him while the
trees behind him fell and almost crushed him. The boy was able to blink
away but had to use far more Mana than usual to break through the assault.
In turn, this left a clear image of where he would reappear for a skilled
Magi such as Koli was. He drew three small knives from his belt and flung
them at his opponent as he manifested. Jazai’s eyes widened as they were too
close for him to dodge, but before they struck, they were intercepted by Asla
and fell harmlessly at his feet.
“Asla!” he called and the wildkin gasped as her Mana flickered around
her. She released it as she toppled.
Well, that was two, but where was Devol? Koli turned as an immense
light broke through the trees. The boy surged out and his blade glowed
brighter than it had before. He focused on the young swordsman and
attempted to trap him in the same distorted cage he had used with Asla. As
his opponent pushed forward and increased his speed, light poured out of the
blade. Surprised, he reacted by distorting the space around him.
When the weapon impacted with him, the sword unleashed a surge of
light that enveloped him and continued to streak through the forest behind
them. It tore through it and obliterated anything in its path for more than a
hundred yards.
 Devol could feel his Anima depleting from the strike. What had just
happened?
When the assassin reappeared, his clothes were torn and various wounds
were visible along the top of his arms. He stood motionless for a moment
before the shock of the assault subsided. The two combatants stood in silence
and stared at one another in a moment of mutual surprise. But the older
Magi’s stunned expression turned to one of happiness, almost like he was
looking at the swordsman with pride in his eyes. At least that is what it
appeared to be before he delivered a solid kick across the boy’s chin and
hurled him away as he produced a small black marble.
“Truly magnificent,” he whispered, broke the marble, and vanished.
“He teleported,” Jazai muttered and glowered at the area where the thief
had stood. “Far, far away. I can’t even track him.”
“Devol!” Asla called and jogged to the swordsman, who pushed himself
into a seated position. “Are you all right?”
He rubbed his chin ruefully. “It hurts but I’ll be fine,” he stated as she
helped him up. “Thank you. That could have been much worse. My Anima
was weak but so was his.”
“No doubt.” Jazai snickered and shook his head as he turned the box in
his hand. “What was that? It looked like you launched some kind of holy fire
from your sword.” He pointed to the section of forest that had been caught in
the light’s path. Everything but the dirt had been obliterated along it. “Well…
maybe ‘holy’ isn’t the right word. Unless flora can be sinners.”
“I don’t know,” Devol admitted and studied his blade warily. “I simply…
I wanted to stop him.”
“Killing her is a way to do that.” Jazai laughed, flipped the box, and
caught it. “Yes, I know it’s an illusion and the thief’s gender is male, but
when it looks like a girl and acts like a girl…” He shrugged. “My brain has a
hard time seeing him as anything but a girl.”
“You think we’ll run into him again?” Asla questioned and clutched her
left arm to try to dull the pain.
“It’s a possibility,” the diviner reasoned. “Or at least someone from the
order will. If they are after the malefic, they’ll be back eventually.”
“Asla, Jazai, Devol!” Vaust called and the three friends looked down the
road as the mori appeared almost out of nowhere. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir.” Devol nodded and pointed to the other boy. “We retrieved the
box but the thief got away with the mask.”
 “You did?” The Templar seemed rather surprised. “That is…quite
impressive. I thought she would be too fast for you to catch up.”
“He was,” Asla admitted. “Even for me. If he’d wanted to, he could have
easily outrun us.”
“It turns out she had a thing for fighting.” Jazai sighed, tapped his cheek,
and flinched. “The only reason she stopped is that she wanted to fight.”
“And you took the bait?” Vaust demanded in annoyance. “You may be
gifted and have majestics, but even you had to know you were outmatched.”
“Oh, we were well aware of that,” the young diviner responded and
handed the box to him. “But I think I speak for all of us in saying that it was
more stubborn pride than sense.”
“It was Devol who finally forced him to flee,” Asla noted and gestured at
the destroyed forest behind them. “His sword did that.”
The Templar observed the damage and looked at the blade. “I see.
Interesting.” He looked the boy in the eyes. “You must have wanted to defeat
her very badly.”
He grimaced. “I did, but I would think that is normal in a life or death
situation.”
Vaust chuckled. “Sure enough, but there is a difference in wanting to win
and simply not wanting to die.” He frowned at the young Magi. “But I think
you’re confused. That was a woman.”
“Nope.” The diviner shook his head and grinned. “We’ll explain later but
trust me, she seems to be a he.” His grin broadened when the Templar stared
at him in bewilderment. “So, Vaust,” Jazai began and pointed to his head.
“What’s going on with your hair?”
His two friends frowned when they noticed several dark streaks in the
mori’s silver hair. “It is nothing to worry about,” he said and ran his hand
through his locks. “It happens sometimes. For now, let us return to the
village. I think we all need some rest.”
Devol nodded, took Asla’s arm, and put it over his shoulder. “Oh yeah.
Without a doubt.”

When they had returned, the town was in a tizzy. The residents had watched
the fire blaze and then suddenly go out, and guards who went to investigate
the incident said that a large section of the forest was now completely dead.
“A mori?” a surprised villager called. Vaust turned and nodded politely.
His hood was completely gone now, so he could not hide it at this point.
“Excuse me, you four!” a guard shouted and caught the group’s attention.
A small team approached. “You were seen coming out of the forest. Did you
see what happened in there?”
Vaust held a hand out to stop the other three from speaking. “Indeed. We
came across two evil Magi who were after this.” He raised the box. “We dealt
with them, but they used their powers openly. I’m sorry it caused such
devastation to your beautiful forest.”
“No kidding,” a guard muttered before their leader shushed them.
“Do you have any descriptions?” the captain asked.
“One wielded a wand that produced and controlled fire,” the mori began.
“He called himself Salvo, had white hair, and wore a black jacket, boots,
trousers, and sunglasses with red-tinted lenses. The other was a woman who
—”
“It wasn’t a woman,” Devol interjected and drew the attention of the
guards and another confused frown from the Templar. “Well, he appears to
be a woman to some people, but his name is Koli and some type of illusion
changes his appearance a little depending on who sees him. And he had a
malefic.”
“A malefic?” the guard shouted and Vaust twitched slightly. “Someone
with a malefic was here?”
“Yes, sir.” The young swordsman nodded. “But he has gone now. He
teleported away.”
“Far away,” Jazai added.
The guard captain frowned and focused on the Templar. “A malefic? If
you were able to take on someone like that…” He looked at the box, then at
the mori again. “Are you here on Templar work?” Vaust nodded and tucked
the box behind him. “I see. All right, boys, let’s continue the investigation
and try to restore the peace.”
The guards left them, but as they headed to the inn, they could hear some
of them complain that they had let them off too easy. Their leader responded
with things like, “Doesn’t matter,” and, “Nothing we can do anyway. Can’t
touch them.” But one of the more irate comments from one of the men caught
Devol’s attention.
“Templars always bring curses with them.”
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T WO

Vaust hissed as he placed a large cloth soaked with some kind of wine-
colored liquid over the burnt skin on his shoulder. Asla had finished applying
ointment onto her feet and studied her bruised shoulder with a frown.
Fortunately, Koli’s knives had grazed rather than stabbed, but the injury was
still surprisingly tender. Jazai currently nursed a bump on the back of his
head that the Templar had given him after he mentioned that he couldn’t tell
what the difference was between burnt skin and normal skin on the mori.
“Is something bothering you, Devol?” the older man asked as he bound
the cloth in place with a bandage. “You’ve seemed rather quiet since we
returned.”
“He could simply be tired,” Asla interjected grumpily.
“It’s not that,” the boy admitted and slumped on one of the beds. “Well, I
suppose I am, but I overheard the guards bickering when we left them. One
of them said something that got to me.”
“And what was that?” Vaust asked. “If it was a generic insult, don’t mind
it. Many guards are rather foul-mouthed in this realm—at least that has been
my experience.”
“It was, but it wasn’t about me. It was about you,” he replied.
“Something to do with the evil mori?” The Templar chuckled and
stretched his arm. “You should have been around a couple of hundred years
ago. Almost everyone believed those rumors. In fact, much of your
superstitious lore comes from early run-ins with mori before the realms were
widely known—”
“It was more about the Templars,” he said quickly. “They said Templars
always bring curses with them.”
 Vaust tensed slightly, Asla looked away, and Jazai merely shrugged and
flopped onto his back on the other bed. “If you stick around, you’ll get used
to that.” The apprentice yawned. “Or simply lie. I mostly tell people I’m a
busboy in a brothel. I get fewer angry looks that way.”
The mori sighed as he took a red silk shirt out of his pack and put it on.
“He is right—a smartass but a correct one.”
“It balances things,” the diviner quipped.
Devol recalled his first day at the order. “I remember Wulfsun telling me
that the Templar had a dark past. It seems my life in Monleans was rather
sheltered.”
Vaust regarded him curiously. “What makes you say that?”
He sighed and gestured with a mixture of frustration and impatience. “All
these things I’m unaware of. Like the malefic Koli wielded. Jazai and Asla
knew what it was. Even the guards seemed to understand that it’s important.”
“Most try to suppress the knowledge of those objects,” Asla pointed out.
“It would not be too surprising for you to not know of them.”
“Still, things get out,” Jazai countered. “They may not exactly be taught
about in most academies and schools, but malefic were a big deal several
centuries ago. That information doesn’t disappear as long as someone knows
about it.”
“And there are quite a few who know,” Vaust muttered and sat beside the
young swordsman. “Wulfsun is better at things like this than I am, but I’ll
give you the summary. You deserve that much after today.”
Devol turned to examine the mori. He was still learning how to read him
but even with what little he did know, he showed signs of remorse and
sorrow.
“The malefics are based on majestics. You could probably tell that
much,” the Templar began and glanced at his kama where it rested against his
bag. “Majestics weren’t invented—not in the way we usually think of such
things. There are many legends that try to reveal where they come from.”
“Some say they were divine weapons of the Astrals, if you believe in
them,” Jazai interjected. “Others say they were a physical manifestation of
the Mana or souls of legendary Magi, while some claim they were legendary
weapons that became majestic over time after completing great tasks—like
many heroes you hear about in stories.” Vaust cast the apprentice an irritated
look but the boy simply shrugged and shifted a little to get more comfortable.
“Hey, I’ve heard this spiel from both my pops and Zier enough times to make
it a paragraph rather than a two-hour lecture. I thought I’d help.”
The mori relaxed and chuckled. “Fair enough. But no one is able to say
for certain which of these tales, if any, are true. You would perhaps find
scholars and archeologists who swear up and down that they could, but that’s
pride speaking.”
“You have them in your realm as well, correct?” Devol asked.
Vaust nodded. “Indeed, all realms have majestics and their stories of what
they are and where they came from. But your realm is rather unique, not only
for having a plethora of them in comparison but quite a number of suitable
wielders. Majestics are typically more hallowed in other realms and often
with elaborate legends to the effect that those who can wield them are
destined for greatness.” He chuckled darkly. “We mori found out rather
quickly that greatness is a personally defined term.”
“I’m getting more familiar with majestics,” Devol noted. “But what does
this have to do with the malefics?”
The Templar sighed again and grimaced. “Right. I suppose I’m delaying.
As I said, majestics cannot be made. Over the centuries, we have found ways
to modify and even repair them but no one has been able to successfully
make a weapon or object that compares to a majestic, although some good
has come from trying.”
“Like the exotics,” he ventured.
“Correct,” Vaust agreed. “But the idea of creating a majestic is something
I’m sure a great number of people have been fascinated with ever since they
learned about them all that time ago. That included a large number of
Templars roughly five hundred and forty years ago, and they came the closest
to success.”
Asla perched on top of a dresser at the window of the room and gazed out
as the mori continued his explanation.
“These Templars were able to craft magical weapons and items that could
indeed match a majestic in power, but they were not equal. Majestics can
only be wielded by certain people for various reasons, but malefics can be
wielded by anyone regardless of their skill or power.”
“Truly?” Devol asked. “But then they succeeded, in a way. They are more
powerful if more people can use them.”
“It’s true that people don’t like being left out of things,” Jazai
commented. “But sometimes, that is for the best.”
Vaust straightened and pointed at the blade. “Tell me, Devol, even if your
sword wasn’t a majestic, would you hand it to a child?”
The boy studied the weapon where it glimmered faintly in its sheath. “I
started training young, but I’m guessing you mean would I hand a deadly
weapon to someone inexperienced?”
“Correct.” The mori nodded.“Malefics also draw their power from their
host exactly as a majestic does, but the user is nothing more than a supply of
Mana to power the malefic. An inexperienced person may wield one for no
more than a few minutes before dying, and even those who survive are…
changed.”
“A majestic’s power is a focus, one that reveals the inner soul of the user.
It calls you to power,” Asla said as if quoting the lines of a book. “A
malefic’s power is like wine, sweet but corrupting. It tempts you to power.”
She looked at the others and the moonlight illuminated her eyes. “That is how
madame Nauru once described it to me.”
Vaust nodded again. “And some have given more than they could truly
afford. Malefics not only take your Mana and potentially your life, but you
must make a pact with one to use it at all.”
“A pact?” Devol asked. “They can speak?”
“Not like you or I,” the Templar corrected. “But in a sense, yes. It is like
they plant ideas or thoughts in your mind. Every malefic has its own desires
or needs.” He ran a finger down his face. “I have heard about that mask
before. It is referred to as the Demon Mask in common tongue and grants
monstrous power to the wearer as you saw, but the price demanded is your
sanity. In time, you become nothing more than a furious demon, wanting
nothing more than to destroy.”
Devol bit his lip, confused as to why would anyone make that trade. “If
these malefics were so powerful, how have they not been used in wars, or—”
He stopped himself as the mori gave him a grim look. “They have been, I
guess.”
“Almost since their very creation,” Vaust confirmed. “The Templars tried
to destroy them, but those who had made the malefics broke away from the
order and created their own known as the Council of Numen. They believed
that they had set a course for themselves to surpass the Astrals. The Templars
fought in what is known as the Malefic War, which lasted over forty years
and eventually destroyed the council. That would be the first part of what
would lead to our current less than illustrious standing.” He looked
mournfully at the ceiling. “The second would be that they tried to hide their
wrongdoing.”
“But it wasn’t the order’s fault,” the boy reasoned. “The bad ones left,
right? The Templars even fought them, so they shouldn’t be held
accountable.”
“Some agree,” the mori conceded. “And perhaps that is how they should
have explained it back then. I could not tell you what they were thinking as
this occurred about two centuries before I was born. But they tried to hide the
evidence and burned many of the notes and sketches the malefic creators had
left there. It is a pity as we could have used those nowadays, and they might
have told us how we could destroy them.”
“They can’t be destroyed?” Devol questioned. The Templar pointed at
Jazai, who rolled his eyes.
“Now he wants to tag me in.” The apprentice chuckled but seemed
pleased. “So majestics are an extension of their user. The wielder strives to
bond and grow with their weapon and in the process, unlocks more power
and the true nature of their majestic. But a malefic…” He extended an open
hand and closed it slowly.
“It binds itself to its user—almost like a leech in a way,” he continued.
“Unless the wielder is powerful enough to wield it properly, it takes
continually from them—Mana, sanity, and strength. The one real weakness of
majestics is also their strength—their connection to their user. Malefic are…
maybe not autonomous, but that connection is absent most of the time. If a
majestic’s user is killed while a strong connection is present, it can break or
even lose its power. But a malefic, unless it is with a user who has found a
way to truly subjugate it—you know, make the malefic their tool instead of
vice versa—well, it simply keeps going.”
“We’ve had some majestics that could destroy a malefic,” Vaust added.
“But even then, it wasn’t safe. Their power runs deep, and when you destroy
a malefic or majestic, that power erupts before it vanishes and can cause
havoc before departing, which has cost us some brave Templars.” He
gestured to the box. “Which is why we hide them in a vault within the order
that has a unique anchor point to a forgotten, desolate realm we simply know
of as the abyss. We keep the recovered malefic there in a cavern that was
discovered during a reconnaissance mission through that realm many years
ago.”
“If you do all this,” Devol said thoughtfully, “why are there people who
seem so suspicious of you?”
 “Keeping secrets…well, it’s a hard thing to do,” the Templar admitted.
“And even hints of one can breed rumors much worse than the secrets. On
top of that, even after the Malefic War, the council had followers who
escaped to spin the tale to the Templars themselves that they had created the
malefics under orders from the grand master at the time and that their council
was just and trying to stop their heresy.”
He uttered another wicked, coarse laugh as he shook his head. “I don’t
think there are many who believe that now, but the damage was done.
Malefics have wrought much pain and suffering over the centuries and their
creation did stem from the order so over time, much of the anger and sorrow
has been directed toward the Templars. But that is why we continue to move
forward. Many in the order itself believe we need to make atonement, and we
will continue our pledge until there is no order left, should it come to that.”
Devol considered the explanation for a moment and looked at his hands,
then at his sword. “So stopping the malefics… That is the Templar’s true
duty?”
“We are Templars. We stop the wicked,” Vaust stated. “And the malefics
are an embodiment of that.”
He nodded, stood, and looked directly into the mori’s eyes. “Mr. Lebatt,
I’ve made a decision.”
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T H R E E

“Well done, young Magi,” Nauru said approvingly as Devol handed the box
to the grand mistress. “I trust everything went well?”
He pressed his lips together and looked at his teammates, both of whom
were unsure how to respond—much to the amusement of Vaust, who stepped
forward in their place. “There were some complications, madame.”
“I would suspect so,” she said dryly, “given that you are with them
instead of simply following them.”
“Wait, he was tailing us the whole time?” Jazai whispered to the other
two. “I never caught him. Did you guys feel anything?”
“Not at all,” the young swordsman stated.
“I never felt him or saw him,” Asla confirmed. “He is quite proficient at
sneakiness.”
“I can fill you in,” the mori offered and sipped from his gourd. “I think
the younglings should probably get a little rest now.”
“Of course,” the grand mistress said with a slight nod. “It was their first
mission alone.”
“Not alone if he was following us,” Devol muttered.
“Honestly, when I think about what could have happened, I’m not as
annoyed as I thought I’d be,” Jazai told him.
“Same with me.” Asla nodded.
“I am sure your mentors would love to see you again so feel free to take
the day for yourselves,” Nauru said with a soft smile and bowed to them.
“Thank you for your help.”
The three mirrored her gesture and each said a variation of, “You’re
welcome,” as they stood and departed the room, talking excitedly with one
another.
“What is your evaluation?” the Templar leader asked, her tone still
playful and genuinely curious despite the more clinical question.
“They did far better than we could have hoped,” Vaust admitted. “I did
have to step in, but the box was briefly lost after the carrier was killed and
they retrieved it.”
“The carrier was killed?” She frowned as she looked at the plethora of
flowers on the ceiling of her room. “I need to contact the hunter’s guild, then,
to tell them their comrade will not return.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” Vaust promised and folded his
arms. “I think he had some other deliveries, but they were incinerated in the
fight.”
“I see you were pushed quite far,” Nauru noted and toyed with her hair as
she looked at him. “What happened?”
He grimaced as he recalled the fight. “It appears we have new enemies—
ones who seek the malefics themselves. They wore no insignia and didn’t
claim allegiance with any guild or council we are aware of. The man I fought
did say they were working for someone but would not name names.”
“I see. We should be mindful,” she said, her voice calm. “It seems your
opponent must have been powerful.”
“It was more the location,” the mori stated slightly defensively. “He
wielded a majestic that conjured and manipulated fire, something of an
advantage in the woods. But that also meant there was no one around, which
allowed me to—” He traced the black lines in his hair. “Well, you know.
Hopefully, they do not remain for much longer. I can’t say I care for the
look.”
“You must not hate it too much.” She chuckled. “You are one of the few
who can truly harmonize with their majestic. It would reflect that if you
wished it to.”
Vaust simply shrugged as he crossed the room to sit on one of the larger
chairs. “It might merely be something left from Myazma’s previous wielder.
It seems disrespectful to try to take it out.”
“Well, that’s very charming of you,” Nauru said as she descended the
stairs to her bed. “You said new enemies. What were the others?”
“One was a giant—some kind of golem I think,” he explained as he began
to unstrap his boots. “He referred to it as a ghoul and it appeared to be made
of flesh.”
 “Blood Magic?” Her demeanor shifted to one of concern at the
description.
“Potentially,” he conceded reluctantly. “If it was, it was quite advanced.
More likely a majestic or malefic power.” He ran a hand over his face. “It
wore the Demon Mask.”
“A golem?” She scowled, baffled by the revelation. “That is rather
concerning.”
“I very much agree.” Vaust snorted as he took his boots off. “That is the
only confirmed kill I have out of the mess. The last one was the fire mage’s
partner, who stole the box and the kids recovered it. I assume she is an
assassin of some kind—although ‘she’ might be relative. Both the young
diviner and I saw a woman, whereas Asla and Devon are adamant that she
was a he. I suspect that Devol’s majestic enables him to see the true form
more clearly, which means ‘he’ is probably more appropriate although my
mind constantly reminds me of what I saw, so it’s somewhat confusing. From
what they told me, she—he—told them that he has a rune that alters his
appearance. On top of that, he also had a malefic.”
“And they fought him?” Nauru’s eyes widened in amazement.
“I believe the thief was holding back,” he said thoughtfully. “It seems he
regards fights as a sporting encounter. I couldn’t get a good look at him in
action, but he was able to detect me and shake me off. This isn’t some run-of-
the mill ruffian.” He glanced at her. “Devol told me he has the Madman’s
Eye.”
Nauru’s eyes narrowed. “It seems logical, then, that he killed the count in
the Britana Kingdom.”
“And twenty-three of his men.” Vaust reminded her. “The count was
going increasingly mad so he was using it. Given that one of the prerequisites
is to replace one of your eyes with it, I doubt he gave it up willingly.”
“The count might not have been able to fully control the eye, but he had
used it for over a decade so he was skilled.” The grand mistress shook her
head. “The assassin had no other malefic or majestic?”
“He didn’t even have a spare exotic from what I could see. I suppose he
might have had something before he acquired the eye but he doesn’t seem to
have it on him now.”
“I’ll have Wulfsun talk to Devol and see if he can get any more details.”
Nauru looked at the wall as if she were looking at someone through it. “Tell
me, what do you think of the boy?”
 Vaust leaned back and looked at the flowers. “He’s earnest, certainly
skilled with a sword, and adept at Mana arts.”
“You know what I am asking.” Nauru showed the first hint of annoyance.
“Do you believe he is his son?”
“Of course,” he stated calmly. “Why else would he have the other half of
Chroma? And it’s not like he would be able to use it otherwise.”
“And in the field…did it resonate?” She turned to him, her gaze intent.
“It did some rather impressive things if that is what you are asking.” He
shrugged and continued. “He certainly doesn’t have a hold of it yet—not like
its power is easy to define. In fact, it might be worse if we try to explain it to
him.”
“I am aware of that.” She sighed. “To think he did so much to try to keep
him away from this life.”
“That did not go as well as he probably hoped,” Vaust said thoughtfully.
“It is not in our hands, though. He told me last night that he has decided to
become a Templar.”
Her eyes widened. “He did?”
The mori nodded and pointed in the direction in which the training area
would be. “He’s probably telling Wulfsun right now and asking if he’ll be his
mentor. He wanted to get everything in place before he asked you.” He
watched her curiously. “I told him I couldn’t think of any reason why you
would deny him entry, especially after such a good performance on the
mission.”
Nauru looked away with a sigh. “Do you think he’ll be upset?”
“He never said anything to us about stopping his son should he find his
way here,” Vaust pointed out. “Only that he wanted him to have a choice.”
“True.” Nauru nodded, thinking back. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in
almost ten years. I don’t know where he is or if he’s even in this realm right
now.”
“We’ll have to get a message to him,” the mori said quietly. “I’m sure
he’ll want to know about this development. But he may still keep to himself.
Ever since he went on his quest, he’s mostly been a loner.”
“Do you think Devol will find out?” she asked.
“I think everyone seems to be on the same page about keeping it quiet. I
don’t know about his parents—or the people who he thinks are his parents.
They may be compelled to tell him the truth given this development.”
“Most likely. It would be better to hear it from them than from us.” She
sighed, pushed to a seated position, and ran her hands over the dark-blue
sheets. “Although I may be a little hesitant, I do feel a sense of joy.”
“Oh?” he murmured. “About what?”
“We have three young recruits now,” she said. “Jazai may whine but if he
truly did not like it here, he would go to be with his father. Asla arrived due
to unfortunate circumstances, but I have seen her come back to life slowly,
especially during her week training with the other two. And now we have the
son of the astral wanderer.” She laughed softly. “I respect our order and care
for everyone here, but it has been a while since we’ve had a new light for our
path.”
He smiled and nodded as he closed his eyes. “Agreed. Hopefully, they
don’t get into too much trouble.”
“Yes, about that,” Nauru began and looked at him with a twinkle of an
idea in her eyes. “Given what happened during the mission, I would say it
probably scales up to a red- or black-marked mission, wouldn’t you agree?”
The mori’s eyes jerked open and he straightened quickly and leaned
closer to her. “Wait, what are you suggesting?”
“Well, they certainly are remarkable young Magi,” she said calmly. “I
believe that if they could succeed on a couple more missions like that, red at
worst, that would qualify them, no?”
“Qualify?” he asked before realization struck and he pushed out of the
chair. “Wait, you don’t mean…”
“Why not? It is up to them, but I think they would do well in the Oblivion
Trials.”
Vaust’s face wrinkled as he scowled in frustration. “How are you this
insane and our leader?”
Nauru laughed. “That doesn’t sound like a nice thing to say to your leader
at all.”
The two began to converse, the mori more heatedly as the night stretched
on. Above them, amongst the garden of flowers in the grand mistress’
bedroom, a small cluster of bloodflowers began to bloom.
A U T H O R N O T E S - M I C H A E L A N D E R LE
 MARCH 25, 2021

Thank you for reading through this story to the author notes in back!
For those who know nothing about me, here is the ‘introductory message’
(I’ll add more after this part).

A Bit About Me
I wrote my first book Death Becomes Her (The Kurtherian Gambit) in
September/October of 2015 and released it November 2, 2015. I wrote and
released the next two books that same month and had three released by the
end of November 2015.
So, just at five years ago.
Since then, I’ve written, collaborated, concepted, and/or created hundreds
more in all sorts of genres.
My most successful genre is still my first, Paranormal Sci-Fi, followed
quickly by Urban Fantasy. I have multiple pen names I produce under.
Some because I can be a bit crude in my humor at times or raw in my
cynicism (Michael Todd). I have one I share with Martha Carr (Judith
Berens, and another (not disclosed) that we use as a marketing test pen name.
In general, I just love to tell stories, and with success comes the
opportunity to mix two things I love in my life.
Business and stories.
I’ve wanted to be an entrepreneur since I was a teenager. I was a very
unsuccessful entrepreneur (I tried many times) until my publishing company
LMBPN signed one author in 2015.
Me.
I was the president of the company, and I was the first author published.
Funny how it worked out that way.
It was late 2016 before we had additional authors join me for publishing.
Now we have a few dozen authors, a few hundred audiobooks by LMBPN
published, a few hundred more licensed by six audio companies, and about a
thousand titles in our company.
It’s been a busy five years.

This series.
So, this story came out of ‘the other guy’ and I talking about different
types of stories that are popular in Asia, and their interpretations here in the
United States. For example, we spoke about manga, wuxia, and anime.
From there we spoke about the types of characters and stories we enjoyed
in those genres.
So, here you are. This is the first book of a trilogy and we hope you like
it.
If you do please review this book to help us know if we should continue
or allow these characters a rest!
We look forward to your thoughts and wish you a great week or
weekend!

Ad Aeternitatem,

Michael Anderle
BLOODFLOWERS BLOOM
THE ASTRAL WANDERER BOOK TWO
 CHAPTER ONE

“Are we there yet?” Jazai asked as he, Devol, and Asla continued to walk
down the winding road. The massive field of golden grass around them was
the only thing they could see.
“Why are you the most childish one of the three of us?” the wildkin
questioned in return as she pointed farther down the road. “There—in the
distance. Do you see the forest?”
Jazai squinted, his expression somewhat offended. He formed a circle
with one hand and peered through it as a soft glow of blue mana covered his
hand. “Damn, how good are your eyes?”
“Are you using a cantrip?” Devol asked and looked over his shoulder at
the diviner.
“Yeah.” He nodded and moved his hand away from his face. “How is that
surprising?”
“I didn’t hear you use an incantation. I thought you had to say the
cantrip’s designation to get it to work.”
“For the more powerful ones or those you aren’t familiar with,” he
explained and waggled his fingers in a parody of doing magic. “Anything
you’ve done over and over, or simple things like using mana to light a wick,
eventually simply become instinctive.”
The swordsman nodded and considered his use of magic. “Hmm, I guess
I have done that, but I thought of it as a trick, not a cantrip.”
“I’m able to do a few without the incantations,” Jazai stated and peered at
the forest again. “Most are simple things like this spell—farsight. The one I
use the most is blink, obviously.”
“Both of those are transmutation spells, correct?” Devol asked and the
scholar nodded in confirmation. He looked down the road at the forest far in
the distance before he turned his head slowly to look at the other boy. “Have
you had to look at things up close often?”
Jazai frowned and lowered his hand as he turned to address his teammate.
“You’ve met Zier.” He shrugged as if that fact alone provided sufficient
explanation. “Well, let me tell you, that posh dryad often has me read
passages repeatedly and he likes to talk for hours about something that can be
summarized in two or three sentences.” His teammates nodded in sympathy.
“Is it a surprise that he would have me study things…” He jerked his head
forward so he was only a couple inches away from Devol’s, whose eyes
widened instinctively. “Very, idiotically, close?”
The young swordsman moved back a little and nodded slowly. “Oh. Well,
when you put it like that, I guess I understand.”
“Your relationship with your mentor is rather concerning,” Asla
commented as she continued to walk ahead of them. “The fact that you seem
to get so agitated over such trivial things is not healthy.”
Jazai sighed, snapped his fingers, and blinked beside her. Devol had to
lengthen his stride to catch up. “If it were only a few trivial things, I would
let it slide. But it. Is. Every. Day. Asla!”
The wildkin frowned and she lowered her ear to shield against the irate
magi’s words. “I worry that you will lose patience and attack Zier one day.”
The boy scoffed and folded his arms, his gaze fixed on where he’d seen
the forest ahead. “No, I wouldn’t do something like that.” He grimaced and
stared at the sky as if looking for answers. “I’m very sure that would mean he
wins…something.”
Devol jogged past them, turned to face them, and walked backward. “You
know, I don’t think we’ve come up with a plan for the mission. We should
probably go over that before we get too close.”
“We only have to deal with some flayers, right?” Asla asked. “It should
not be an issue.”
“I’ve seen a flayer in action,” he told her. “About three months ago, when
I was on my way to the order, I walked through a forest when I met Mr.
Lebatt. He took care of it in a single strike.”
“You can probably call him Vaust now,” Jazai suggested. “We might be
younger but even Zier and Wulfsun are younger than him by about a century,
at least.”
“We are supposed to be comrades in arms,” Asla agreed as she held her
gloves out and examined them.
“I guess so, but I think he likes it so it is not a big deal.” Devol turned
again to fall into step beside them.
Jazai shook his head and leaned closer to Asla. “Is he naïve or merely
good-natured?”
“I think it is kindness,” she answered with a slight smirk as she fixed him
with a teasing look. “Is that a foreign concept to you?”
He rolled his eyes and leaned away as the swordsman stretched his arms.
“You know, it is rather unusual to find a group of flayers,” Devol stated.
He thought back to what he had read about them in the past and what Vaust
had explained to him that day in the Wailing Woods. “They rarely travel in
groups and are loners that prefer to keep to themselves.”
“That is correct,” Asla agreed with a nod. “In smaller areas, if there is
more than one flayer and not enough territory to share, they will often battle
one another for dominance.”
“It must mean the alpha of this group is very strong,” Jazai deduced. He
opened his tome and flipped through the pages. “It is uncommon but not
unheard of. There have been flayers so deadly that lesser flayers will go
against their instincts and follow it when they have no chance to kill it or
defend their turf.”
“We should probably be more concerned, I suppose,” Devol reasoned.
“Even a young flayer can be vicious. How strong does one have to be to
subjugate others?”
They continued to discuss what they knew of the creatures while they
walked. When they were only a couple of hundred yards from the forest, a
loud, frightful scream caught their attention. Asla bent forward and revealed
her claws as her ears twitched. “Someone is coming.”
“Someone?” Devol asked as he slid his hand to the grip of his sword.
A figure barreled out of the forest and ran toward them in a desperate,
frightened dash to get out of the woods. The youngsters stepped aside but the
young swordsman reached toward the man as he drew close.
“Excuse me, sir, but what happened in—” There wasn’t a chance to finish
his question as the stranger sprinted past them down the road. He uttered
another fearful yelp before he raced out of sight. The three friends were
baffled and they glanced at one another in confusion before they looked again
to the place where the man had vanished around the bend in the path to the
town.
 The young swordsman had noticed cuts in his clothes and no weapon.
There was not a chance anyone would go into these woods without one so he
must have lost it.
“Did you…uh, get anything from him, Jazai?” he asked and gestured
toward his friend's book.
The boy looked down and nodded quickly. “Yeah, he was easy. Either he
didn’t use his anima to protect himself or he was too frightened to care.”
“He can run rather quickly without anima,” Asla remarked as she
frowned, her keen gaze fixed on the road where she could now see the
stranger in the far distance where the road curved again.
“It looks like his name is Flynn and he is a member of a small hunter’s
guild in Malo,” Jazai said, reading the information in his book.
“Malo—that’s a couple of towns over from the village we got the request
from,” Devol remarked.
The scholar nodded again. “Yep. From what I can see, they didn’t send
the mission to us immediately. The village put up a bounty first to try to deal
with it. I guess his guild thought they could claim it if they hurried.”
Asla shifted her gaze to the trees, “Are there others in the forest?”
“There were at the beginning,” Jazai replied and closed his book. “The
last passage says he is the only survivor—or as far as he knows, anyway.”
The three teammates turned their attention to the forest again and studied
it in silence for a moment. No animal calls or flayer screeches issued from the
woods, only the gentle sighs of the wind that threaded through the darkness
between the trees.
“So are we sure we don’t want to have a plan before we head in there?”
Devol asked.
“I assumed we would simply go in and kill them,” Jazai responded with a
nonchalant shrug and his anima flared. “But if you have something a little
more detailed, I’m willing to hear you out.”
The swordsman looked at Asla, who mirrored the scholar’s shrug and
activated her anima as she and Jazai began to enter the forest. The young
swordsman sighed, drew his blade, and brought his anima out as he followed
his two friends into the shadowy woods.
He had heard great tales of heroes going to vanquish foul monsters when
he was a child. Now that he was a little older, however, it appeared that many
of those stories were merely the grand retellings of a typical day in the life of
an adventurer.
 C H A P T E R T WO

As the group pushed deeper into the bowels of the woods, Devol noticed
something odd.
“I do not see any animals at all,” he said and peered around him with a
frown. “Even in the Wailing Woods, giant rats and things like that lived
there.”
“I assume these flayers either devoured or scared off anything else that
lived here,” Jazai reasoned. “It explains why livestock has been dragged
away from the farms in the area.”
“And people,” Asla added as her ears pointed up. “We are close and I can
smell a horrible stench.”
The foul odor had caught the attention of Devol and Jazai as well. They
pushed aside the brush ahead of them and entered a cleared area in front of a
large den that had been cobbled together from wood, stones, bone, and
various other miscellaneous objects. Everything had been combined
effectively but somewhat untidily to create a huge cave-like structure.
“What in the world is going on here?” Jazai asked as he opened his
majestic. “Flayers don’t make massive dens like this, do they?”
“Not normally,” Asla agreed. She scowled as she looked at fresh blood
that stained the grass. “They will either live in hovels or caves found in the
areas they claim or make small dens suitable for only their use.”
Devol studied the grotesque home of the flayers and took note of the
bones that created the opening. Most seemed to be from animal carcasses, but
he noticed several human bones twisted amongst those that formed the
entrance. “This seems rather advanced for creatures like flayers.”
“No kidding.” Jazai sounded disgruntled as he examined the bestiary.
“Flayers can make a glue-like substance with their saliva to help build their
homes. But like Asla said, they are usually little hovels, not something like
this. I would expect to see this being the home of blood mages or cannibals,
not flayers.”
“Cannibals eat their own, correct?” Asla questioned and gestured to a
section on the left of the den. “It would appear you are not completely wrong,
Jazai.”
The boys shifted their gazes to where she had indicated. Two skulls were
visible, and from their sharp features, they appeared to be skulls of slain
flayers.
“Well, I guess they stepped out of line,” Jazai murmured and closed his
book.
Asla shut her eyes and sniffed the wind. She pulled a face of disgust
before she opened her eyes again. “I smell death—both the scents of the
long-dead and some that have only died recently.”
Devol held his sword out. “Those must be the hunters. Are any alive?”
Asla shook her head. “No, not from what I can tell.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” Jazai remarked. “Can you tell how many
flayers there are?”
“There are several scents, a few quite similar,” she explained and
attempted to cover her nose. “I assume those are the more lowly flayers and a
much more noticeable stench almost masks them.”
“Do you guys feel that?” Devol asked and lowered his blade slightly as he
looked around. “I feel mana.”
The other boy nodded. “I assumed it was the remnants of the hunters—
their mana can linger for a little while, even after death.”
“Maybe, but…” His thoughts were interrupted when a skittering noise
issued from inside the den. The three young adventurers prepared themselves.
It appeared their quarry was coming for them instead of the other way
around. “So, will we still go with the simple plan?”
Jazai sighed and held his hands up. “If I knew a cantrip that would let me
blow this horror to pieces, I’d go with that.” He looked at the young
swordsman. “Remember that fire of wrath you did against Koli during our
first mission? Do you wanna give that another shot?”
“I’ve tried during training,” Devol responded and shook his head. “I
haven’t been able to recreate it although I have been able to do other things.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen the party tricks.” The scholar chuckled. “They must
have some value, I suppose, but I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do with
those.”
“Quiet!” Asla ordered and crouched in readiness. “They are here.”
They focused intently on the mouth of the constructed cave and a few
moments later, four scrawny flayers stalked out. They were smaller than the
one Devol remembered from the Wailing Woods—around six feet tall—and
seemed to be underfed, which made the ravenous noises they emitted more
understandable. The one in front of the swordsman hissed as it ran one of its
boney blades over another to sharpen them.
“Four?” Jazai sighed, “If it was three, we could each take care of one.”
Devol drew a deep breath as he lifted his blade and the light flared. The
beasts screeched in surprise and he swung it in a deadly arc. The blade
extended immensely before it struck the flayer in front of him. When the light
dimmed, the creature twitched and jerked, then split vertically in two. Its
companions shrieked with unbridled rage.
“That’s much better than merely a party trick, eh, Jazai?” he boasted with
a smirk.
The other boy chuckled and nodded to concede the point. “Fair enough.
You got me there.” He pointed to the remaining flayers. “But if you had
slashed horizontally, you could have killed them all in a single strike.”
He turned away sheepishly. “Well…sure, but you two would have been
bored.”
Jazai laughed but Asla frowned. “I think we would have been content,”
she muttered.
The creatures shrieked their individual challenges and surged into the
attack. Devol turned into a head-on clash with one of the flayers and its bone-
scythe arms struggled against his majestic.
The scholar blinked around the initial attack from the creature that had
focused on him and launched a missile of mana that hurled it back. Despite
the force of the blow, it merely landed lightly and sprang toward him again.
Rather than engage directly, he blinked into the branches of a tree and began
to fire cantrips at the beast.
Asla caught the blade of the third creature with her gloves, turned, and
flung it at a tree as her anima flared and the silhouette of a large, feral cat that
glowed orange formed around her. She pounced closer to the beast and sliced
at it with her claws. The flayer simply moved under her and the mana-
enchanted strike felled the tree instead. With a groan and a flurry of
splintered wood, it toppled into the forest.
This seemed to give Jazai’s adversary the same idea. When two mana
arrows pierced its shoulders, it extended its arms and cut the tree he perched
in down with a wide, cross-cutting swipe. He jumped clear and yelled,
“Shield!” as he fell toward the beast. A blue mana shield formed in front of
him.
The flayer raised its blades but his shield blocked them as his feet
connected with the creature and pushed off. He landed several yards away,
turned, and pointed at the arrows. “Chains!” The mana arrows on its
shoulders began to unravel, encircled its arms, and attached to trunks behind
it. They held it in place and it shrieked and snapped its jaws as he approached
it.
He held a hand up and whispered, “Blade.” His hand was engulfed by the
blue light of his mana and took the form of a short blade. The flayer
continued to hiss and shriek at him as it struggled to free itself from the
chains. The apprentice moved closer, swung his hand, and the mana-blade
sank into its neck and beheaded it in one strike.
Asla dodged the third flayer with ease. While the beasts were known for
their agile movements and quick kills with their natural blades, her seemingly
malnourished opponent had almost no hope against the anima-enhanced
wildkin. When it tried to slice her in two, she attacked first and severed its
arms with her claws.
It cried out in pain as yellow blood spewed from the stumps. She took a
moment to glance at Devol, who seemed to be using his target for training
more than any real attempt to kill it.
She shook her head and returned her attention to her adversary. With a
swift kick, she catapulted it toward the young swordsman. The creature
collided with the flayer he was battling and surprised him as both careened
past Jazai.
“What was that for?” he grumbled.“I wasn’t in danger.”
“I could see that, but this is not the time to play,” Asla pointed out before
she nodded at the scholar. “Can you finish them?”
The boy shrugged and held his palm toward them. “Fireball.” An orb of
flame formed in his hand and he launched it at the two collapsed flayers to
ignite them both. They shook themselves briefly in an effort to extinguish the
flames but the fire consumed them before they could escape the blaze.
“Won’t that set the forest on fire?” Asla asked as the three friends
watched them burn.
Jazai shook his head. “Not that it would be a bad thing, but cantrip flames
don’t spread like normal fire. Besides…” He lifted a hand and snapped his
fingers and the fire immediately vanished. “I’m not such a novice, even if
that were the case.”
“I guess I can see why they were following an alpha,” Devol said as he
rested his sword against his shoulder. “They weren’t as intimidating as I
expected given what I remember reading about them.”
“You have to keep in mind that they were terrorizing villagers,” Asla
stated. “To most people, even these smaller flayers are a deadly menace.”
“It puts it all in perspective, huh?” Jazai said thoughtfully, his hands
clasped behind his head. “We’ve become strong enough that things like this
are simply a nuisance.”
“We are gifted,” Asla agreed with a nod, “but we should not get too
comfortable. We must still deal with the alpha.”
The three looked at the mouth of the den, knowing what awaited them
inside. “I’m sure it is a big beastie and all that,” the diviner said to end the
slightly uncomfortable silence. “But it is still a flayer. Between the three of
us, it shouldn’t be a probl—”
A deep, massively loud cry issued from the den, one that each of the
young magi could feel in their whole body. Asla raised her hands quickly to
block her ears as the two boys simply stared, wide-eyed. When the scream
died down, the silence in the forest became more palpable and the group
realized what lay in store for them.
“That…didn’t sound like it came from a normal flayer,” Devol said and
grasped his sword tightly. “That cry had something…terrifying to it.”
“That certainly did sound like a big beastie, all right,” Jazai muttered and
lowered his hands to his waist. “So…uh, do we have a plan for this?”
 CHAPTER THREE

“I do not believe the alpha flayer will come out on its own,” Asla stated as
she took one step closer to the cave. She hesitated for a moment and looked
over her shoulder. “Should we proceed?”
Devol drew a deep breath. “We have to. It’s our job.” He flexed his
fingers around the grip of his majestic. “But…uh, I have to say I would not
guess that the noise we heard came from a flayer. Are we sure that’s what is
waiting for us in there?”
Jazai nodded, opened his tome, and studied the bestiary section. “It has to
be, although I’m not a hunter or tracker by any means. Still, I’ve studied the
more dangerous creatures for other magi many times and I’ve never heard of
flayers submitting to other beasts. It has to be an alpha in there.”
“Could it be a different species?” Asla inquired thoughtfully. “We are
close to the border of the Zhangra empire. Perhaps they have a—”
“Flayers aren’t in their lands,” the scholar interjected and flipped through
the pages. “Or none have ever been seen there, at least. Even if they did have
flayers, I doubt they would travel all that distance to here. We might be close,
but we’re still a couple of days away from the border and even longer for
them.”
Devol hefted his sword purposefully and walked forward. “Well, I guess
the only way to find out is to take a peek,” he reasoned and moved closer to
the den. “You guys have my back, right?”
Asla nodded and straightened as she hurried to join him. Jazai followed
and had begun to shut his book when the pages moved on their own.
“Hey, guys, hold on a moment!” he called as he opened the book again
and his eyes widened.
 “What’s wrong, Jazai?” Devol asked as the two of them paused and
looked at the apprentice. His gaze seemed transfixed on whatever lines he
was reading on the page.
“I’m getting…something’s thoughts,” he stated with a glance at them.
“Some…thing?” Asla muttered in bewilderment. She and Devol returned
to their friend’s side and they huddled close to stare at the book. Inside was a
half-sketched picture that consisted of the typical flayer scythe arms, a large
body, and very little else. It didn’t have the normal details Jazai’s majestic
typically showed when reading another person. Instead, a few words repeated
to fill the entire page.
Hunt. Kill. Devour.
“This is coming…” Devol began and looked at the other boy in
confusion. “Is it from the alpha?”
Jazai nodded slowly. “I mentioned before that my majestic doesn’t work
on beasts, right?” he asked and both his teammates responded with nods.
“Right. Well, I should probably change that to it normally doesn’t happen.
This is the exception.”
“What could that mean?” Asla wondered. She turned to stare at the den
and her ears twitched.
The apprentice shut the book and replaced it carefully on the side of his
waist where it was secured with a leather strap. “Well, the reason it normally
doesn’t work on beasts is that my majestic reads the mana of my target,” he
stated. “Your mana is basically an imprint of your soul, so my majestic is
able to sort through that and find memories. Animals typically don’t have
much mana. Some have more than others but usually not enough for my
majestic to pick up on.” He looked at the den, his concern evident on his face.
“It would appear that it is different for the alpha.”
“So for some reason, this flayer has much more mana than usual?” Devol
asked. “How is that possible?”
“Well, the only way I can think of is rather…gross.” The diviner
scrunched his face at the thought. “But there have been times when certain
beasts were able to increase their mana, sometimes by eating large quantities
of mana-rich substances. Occasionally, they would feast on special fruits or
even pieces of cobalt. But the most common way would be to…well, eat
someone like us.”
This gave pause to both his friends and they looked nervously at one
another. “So if they eat a magi, they can also consume their mana?” the
swordsman asked.
“Not merely any magi,” Jazai corrected. “All humans, wildkin, fleuri, and
realmers have mana, but you would not consider all of them magi and these
mana-enchanted beasts don’t roam the lands in droves. I don’t think even
eating an actual magi would be enough in most cases. My best guess would
be that it ate someone with an anima.”
“Ah,” Asla whispered and flattened her ears. “I suppose that makes
sense.”
Devol looked at the bodies of the slain flayers. “I did not see any blood
around their mouths when we fought them,” he recalled. “I assume the
hunters who were here before we came in were all given to the alpha.”
“Most likely,” Jazai concurred. “It probably needs more than only flesh to
sustain itself now.”
Devol turned resolutely toward the entrance and his anima surged. “Well,
that means we have to eliminate it,” he told them and held his blade up.
“After all, if this creature is able to kill a magi with an anima, where does that
leave the townsfolk or farmers in the countryside if we abandon them?”
Asla took a breath to calm herself and nodded agreement, but Jazai
shrugged. “You make a fair point, but I am starting to realize that ‘being
strong’ is honestly a pain in the ass.”
“You could be helping Zier dust or something right now, you know,” the
wildkin pointed out.
He rolled his eyes and took a few steps closer to the den. “I guess I’d
rather die valiantly than out of boredom. Let’s get on with it.”
Devol nodded as he and Asla followed. The wildkin took point quickly
when they reached the mouth of the unnatural cave as her vision was best in
the dark. “I’ll be on the lookout,” she stated. “Devol, if you can, keep the
light of your majestic dim. It may give our position away otherwise.”
“Or it could help to blind the creature,” Jazai countered in a whisper. “If it
is used to living in the dark like this, of course. I’m only saying keep our
options open. This is new territory for all of us.”
Devol nodded as the trio entered, all prepared to discover what this new
creature was capable of and slay it as quickly as they could.
The den proved to be much deeper than they had originally thought when
they saw it from the outside. It appeared more along the lines of a burrow and
the ground sloped down as they walked. Devol looked at the ceiling of the
cavern, where sticky gobs of flayer saliva were used to hold the ceiling in
place. Not surprisingly, the remains of the inhabitant's meals were littered
along what seemed to be the main path.
“Homey,” Jazai muttered sarcastically and his eyes, which were usually
soft and almost disinterested at times, were alert and scanned the area
continually in search of signs of the alpha.
Devol moved to the front, the flat side of his sword against his chest to
keep the light to a minimum. “Asla, do you have anything?”
“I can smell it,” she stated, her voice low. “But amongst the rot of
everything else here, I cannot pinpoint it. I can also hear…sickening sounds.
It must be feasting.”
“Perhaps it will be too full to offer much of a fight,” Jazai commented
and earned irritated looks from his teammates. “Fair enough. That might be a
little dark given what it is probably feasting on,” he admitted.
They reached a fork in the path. One led to a larger chamber and one to a
small hovel. “I believe these are their living quarters,” Asla stated. “The
larger is for the alpha, of course.” She sniffed the air and blocked her nose
hastily. “Yes, it’s down this path. I’m sure of it.”
As Devol stared into the dark chamber, an idea occurred to him and he
turned to Jazai, “Hey, if this creature is full of mana, we should be able to see
that using vis, right?”
The diviner considered this in silence, but his eyes began to glow with his
dark-blue mana. “I would say that is likely but I don’t know for sure. This is
my first time dealing with something like this.”
The swordsman nodded and used vis on his sight. “I should have brought
torches.”
“Once we engage the beast,” Asla said quietly and tapped his sword, “you
will be able to use the light of your majestic more freely.”
“I had hoped we could kill it in a sneak attack,” he admitted as he looked
at his blade. “Fighting in these relatively cramped conditions won’t be easy
for any of us.”
The trio shared a silent look of agreement. “That would be preferable,”
she acknowledged.
“Who will attempt the killing strike?” Jazai asked.
 “I will,” the wildkin offered before Devol could say anything. “I am the
fastest among the three of us and will have the best chance to get close before
it can react.”
The swordsman had intended to offer to do it himself but she had a point.
He nodded and turned to Jazai. “Then you and I will hobble it,” he stated.
“I’ll blind it with the light from my majestic and you can tie it down with
your chains.”
“Got it,” the boy said with a decisive nod. “Flayers are fast but not
typically that strong. It would have a considerable struggle to break the
chains, even with the enhancements it gets with mana.”
Devol nodded as Asla extended her claws. With their plan in place, they
entered the larger cavern and walked slowly and cautiously for about a
hundred yards before Asla held a hand out and motioned for them to press
against the wall. Devol crouched, narrowed his eyes, and peered deeper into
the shadowy space. The alpha was about a hundred feet away and it was
much larger than he had anticipated.
The creature did not have the scrawny frame of the flayers they had
fought or even the alpha he had seen in the Wailing Woods. This one was tall
—possibly eight or nine feet—but also broad with a massive carapace on its
back that was wider than his entire arm span. It crouched in place and its only
motion was when the head lowered and jerked up repeatedly. In the silence,
the crunching sounds it made as it devoured its prey were unmistakable.
Devol turned away briefly and tried to not focus on the sounds. Asla
tapped his arm and nodded to him. He looked at Jazai, who also nodded.
They were ready and the beast was eating, which made this a perfect time to
strike. He held three fingers up and counted down. As the last finger lowered,
they all summoned their animas and raced toward the beast. The diviner
blinked in front of them and thrust his arm out. “Chains!”
The alpha spun as a set of ethereal chains wound around its massive arms
and head and pulled it back to expose its neck. The swordsman let his mana
flow into his blade to illuminate the room and the flayer uttered an angry
scream when the light burned its eyes.
Asla vaulted upward onto the flayer and drew her arms back. They
glowed orange with her mana and she landed on its chest and sank her claws
into the alpha’s throat to slice through it. She jumped off as the chains
released and the beast gurgled as it slumped heavily. The wildkin landed and
the three adventures watched it twitch, the same question in each of their
minds. Had they done it?
“What in the hells?” Jazai demanded as the alpha’s head raised slowly.
He pointed to the neck, where the deep wound had begun to close rapidly.
“It’s healing itself.”
“That was a clean strike.” Asla gasped and thumped a balled fist into her
leg. “I should have tried to decapitate it.”
“Worry about that later,” Devol ordered as he held his sword up. “Be on
your guard. It looks like its—”
The beast surged forward and despite its size, it could move as fast as any
flayer. It drew its arms back and slashed them forward, but not at them. They
stared as the creature targeted the ceiling. A little confused, it took a moment
before they realized that the attack had begun to break the gooey substance
and rock apart. As the ceiling crumbled, the chamber began to shake and the
entire structure collapsed on top of them.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Thinking quickly, Jazai grasped his teammates and blinked them into the
divided chamber. They drew ragged breaths and stared at the path leading
into the alpha’s den, which disintegrated rapidly in the wake of the collapse.
Fortunately, their area still seemed stable.
“It tried to crush us,” Asla muttered. “That would make us almost
inedible, I think, unless it planned to pick our remains out from the rubble.”
“Well, it’s not like it needed another meal soon,” Jazai pointed out. “We
have an additional problem, I think. The mana it has not only increased its
physical stature but probably also its intellect. It recognizes us as a threat, or
at least more important to kill outright than keep for dinner.”
“Did it trap itself in there?” Devol asked and held his sword defensively
as he stared toward the collapsed chamber. “Maybe it was too desperate to
understand what it was doing.”
The ground beneath them began to shake and they exchanged wide-eyed
glances.
“Scatter!” Jazai shouted and they all leapt closer to the entrance. The
alpha burst out of the ground, landed heavily, and focused immediately on
the three young magi. “I guess we know what built the den now,” the scholar
quipped and pointed at the massive beast. Its dark, blank gaze settled on him.
“Frost!” A blast of frigid air and ice left his palm, struck the beast in the
shoulder and arm, and rapidly created paths of ice down the limb. He moved
his arm to the side and used the frost to freeze the wall and connect the
flayer’s frozen arm to it to hold it in place.
Asla and Devol took the opportunity to attack as the beast began to carve
the ice with its free arm. The wildkin targeted the throat once again to correct
her mistake but was greeted by the razor-sharp fangs as the alpha turned its
head to snap at her. She was forced to use a feint to move out of the way and
the fangs only dug deep enough to inflict a light cut.
The swordsman had a little more luck and was able to slice a clean wound
into its chest. Before he could drive his blade in, however, the alpha swatted
him away with the back of its arm. The blow thankfully didn’t cut into him,
but the strength of the beast was enough to hurl him into the ceiling. He
plummeted when gravity kicked in and it looked like he would fall into a
sinkhole the creature had created, but Asla had recovered enough to quickly
bound across and push him out of the way. They tumbled together and rolled
out of range.
The beast finally freed itself from the ice. Jazai tried to counter with
another cantrip but the flayer looked at him and uttered a high-pitched
screech that forced him to cover his ears lest his eardrums burst. It swung
both cutters down onto the magi, who extended his arms and called his
shield. A large barrier appeared a second later and the alpha’s arms struck it
forcibly. The boy watched in shock as the shield only slowed the limbs and
didn’t stop them. He gaped as the boney blades of the flayer slid into and
down the barrier. In a moment, though, he regained his senses and blinked to
where Devol stood as the shield was destroyed.
He helped the swordsman up. “We’re gonna need to try something
different,” he said bluntly as the flayer sharpened its blades with a
determination that was somewhat disconcerting. “Or find a way to inflict real
injury. Flayers are known for their ambush and speedy tactics, but this one
fights like a likan.”
“Both Asla and I were able to inflict some injury,” Devol muttered and
shouldered his sword while he observed the wound in its chest beginning to
heal. “But it regenerates so fast. How is it able to shrug blows from majestics
off?”
“Like I said, I assume it consumed a magi with an anima,” Jazai reminded
him. “From what I can see, it doesn’t have an anima like we do, though. It’s
more like a magical coat around its carapace so it can take far more abuse and
deliver it in equal measure, even against cantrips and majestics.”
“It looks like Asla might have the right idea.” The swordsman gestured to
where the wildkin was able to dart between the legs of the creature and slash
at its ankles. “It looks like she’s trying to topple it.”
“That will at least give us an edge,” the other boy agreed and held a hand
out as his mana flared. “You guys will have to force it down. I’ll distract it.”
Devol nodded and tightened his grasp on his sword in readiness. “Got it.”
He raced forward to join Asla while Jazai fired several missiles at the flayer,
all focused on the arms and eyes. The creature began to thrash wildly. Asla
rolled under the blows and Devol either leapt away or countered them.
Although they were able to inflict numerous wounds on its feet and legs, they
began to heal almost immediately. Both fighters eventually gave in to their
frustration and used more mana than they normally would to each slice into
the ankle of a leg and sever the feet.
The flayer fell and a burst of yellow blood spewed from the stumps. It
thrust its blades down to steady itself as it peered at them and uttered another
deafening cry.
“Would you shut up?” Jazai growled and waved a hand. “Pulse!” He
blasted a wave of magical force that hurtled into the flayer’s head and shut its
jaw. His companions both lunged at its head to finish it, but the alpha spun
with surprising deftness, swung its bleeding legs into them, and flung them
away before it began to burrow into the ground.
“Dammit!” Devol cursed as he forced himself to stand as their quarry
disappeared rapidly. He sighed. “We need to get out of the den before it
comes back for us.”
“Agreed,” Asla said as she rubbed the bump on her head. “We’ll have
more space outside.”
“To the hells with it,” Jazai said in disgust as he marched past them. “I’ll
burn this den to ashes.”
The young swordsman raised an eyebrow as the diviner blinked away.
“It’s honestly not a bad idea,” he admitted to Asla as they raced forward. He
took the rear and kept a watchful eye on the area behind them. They soon
approached the entrance, where Jazai waited to set it alight, but the well-
packed surface rumbled ominously beneath them.
“The flayer!” the girl shouted. Devol turned as something protruded from
the soil and extended to reveal one of the alpha’s blades. The beast seemed to
slice through the earth toward them and the ground became unstable.
He managed to stop himself from sliding and held his sword out to
prevent the creature’s advance, but the blade simply sank into the soil without
achieving anything. The flayer made no effort to engage him and the wild
contortions of the dirt as it powered toward the entrance passed him without
allowing him the opportunity to try to stop it.
 “Jazai! It’s coming for you!”
The diviner grimaced and jumped away a second before the flayer broke
through the surface and the long limb carved at the air. The immolation
cantrip he had prepared to burn the den was redirected toward the alpha
instead. It defended itself with a deft spin on the now healed stumps and the
fire struck the shell on its back. The creature made an odd keening sound and
swung at Jazai, who leaned back as he blinked away, but the blade sliced into
his chest before he disappeared. He appeared next to a tree, holding his
bleeding wound.
“Damn it!” He grimaced in pain and leaned against the trunk as his mana
snaked around him and began to close the wound.
Asla darted out of the mouth of the cave as Devol caught up. The tiger-
like shadow of mana formed around her as she attempted a killing strike.
Rather than move to dodge or block it as she’d expected, it spat at her and
covered her in some of the sticky liquid that dotted the cavern. The glob
struck with sufficient force to hurl her into a tree. In seconds, it had attached
her to the trunk. She immediately began to fight to cut herself free, but that
left only the swordsman to distract their adversary.
Even without its feet, the flayer had adapted quickly. It used its arms to
fling itself at him as he sprinted out of the den and barreled its entire weight
toward him. He held his weapon up and was able to deflect a blow from the
alpha, but the impact dislodged the blade from his hand. With a desperate
twist, he ducked under the beast and out of the den, but the creature plunged
one of its blades into the ground and spun it to launch itself toward him and
drive him off his feet.
“Devol!” both Jazai and Asla cried as the creature reared to kill the young
swordsman. Even with death so close, however, Devol saw an opportunity.
He held one of his arms up, seemingly to stop or slow the blow that arced
toward him but instead, a flash of light emitted from his hand and the flayer’s
attack was stopped.
His teammates gaped at his blade that now protruded from the neck of the
monster, having teleported back into his hand in time to deliver the blow. He
tightened his hold on his sword grip and used vis to sear into the neck of the
beast. It uttered one last, muffled shriek as he sliced through its neck and
released a spray of blood from the staggering creature before it had a chance
to behead him.
The flayer gurgled and its eyes narrowed as it began to twitch from the
strike. Even with its enhanced regeneration ability, the wound was too deep
to recover quickly. Jazai hurried forward and used a pulse to push it off
Devol.
Asla managed to cut herself out of the goop the flayer had surrounded her
with a second later. She vaulted onto the back of the beast, her claws raised.
They shone with orange light and she swung them decisively to finish what
Devol had started and sever the alpha’s head in one swift motion. The
creature’s body immediately collapsed and she bounded off it as Jazai pulled
Devol away before it could fall on top of them.
The three friends, ragged and with various wounds, looked at the corpse
with disdain before the realization of their accomplishment dawned on them.
They had finally felled the alpha despite its enhanced capabilities.
 CHAPTER FIVE

As reality began to sink in and the adrenaline started to wind down, Devol
collapsed onto his back with a contented sigh. “Man. It’s a good thing I knew
about the weak point around the throat, huh?”
Jazai moved to examine a piece of the flayer that had been cut off during
the attack. “I think you’ll find that the throat is a weak point for most living
things.” He picked up a shell-like piece and studied it closely. “And it is more
likely that you were able to fell the alpha thanks to your sword itself rather
than swordsmanship.”
He rolled his head to look at his friend. “What do you mean? The
teleporting trick I did?”
The diviner shook his head and tossed him the piece he had been focused
on. “That was neat but think about who you are talking to.”
Devol caught it, removed his glove, ran his hand over the shell, and
realized that it was a hardened piece of the carapace. “Is this from its back?”
“Nope. I saw it come loose when you cut into its throat. This was
protecting the trachea,” the scholar stated and knelt beside him. “Your
majestic is a powerful sword, far beyond an ordinary magic sword. Do you
think you would have had the power to cut through that on your own from
your prone position?”
Asla knelt on the other side and poked the shell. “The skin on the back of
its neck was tougher but it did not have this shielding,” she told them and
tapped it thoughtfully. “I would think you would have to break it open with a
blunt weapon first. Blades would only scratch it.”
Devol looked from the shell to his majestic. “So you think this was due to
the power of my majestic?”
 The other boy nodded. “If it helps your ego, I’m sure it helped that you
had the strength and intelligence to swing the blade in the right direction.”
He frowned at his friend’s sarcastic comment before he scrambled to his
feet and threw the shell to one side. “Okay, I can’t be too mad. It was
certainly helpful to learn something new about the sword.” He held the blade
up for a moment and focused on the dancing light within it. “I guess it didn’t
register since it didn’t brighten all that much.”
“Well, you were preoccupied at the time,” Jazai reminded him as he
retrieved a small towel from his pouch and handed it to Asla. She accepted it
gratefully when she realized she was still covered in some of the flayer’s spit.
Devol nodded, sheathed his sword, and sighed as he ran a hand through
his hair. “I suppose it is simply another thing to ask them about when I see
them again.”
“Who is them?” Asla asked curiously as she rubbed the towel along her
arms.
“My parents,” he told her as he walked away and pulled a brown sack
from his pack. “But that is something for later. We should bag these heads
quickly so we can start heading back.”
Jazai nodded in agreement and fumbled in his coat for a bag before he
glowered at the alpha’s head. “I don’t think any of us has a bag to fit that.
Does anyone want to shove it into their backpack?”
Asla unclasped her cloak, shook it out, and handed it to him. “I believe
we can bundle it in this.”
“Are you sure, Asla?” the diviner asked as he took it tentatively. “I doubt
that what will be left on it will wash out.”
“I don’t think any of this will,” she remarked and gestured at her clothes
and the grime and spittle still covering it. “I am likely to simply burn it all.”
Jazai looked at the sticky yellowish liquid and made a slightly disgusted
face. “That’s probably the right choice,” he conceded as he spread the cloak
gingerly on the ground.
“I’m not sure if the two we burnt will count,” Devol called as he used a
large knife to sever their heads. “I suppose they are in one piece, though,
albeit charred and crumbling a little.”
“It’s fine. We only need proof,” Jazai responded as he and Asla lifted the
alpha’s head and placed it on the cloak. “Do you need another bag?”
“Yeah, throw it to me,” the swordsman instructed. “Showoff,” he
muttered when his friend took one out and blinked it to him. He chuckled as
he snatched it out of the air and placed the final burnt head inside it. As he
checked to make sure the four bags were secured, he paused and frowned
when a rustling from above caught his attention. He looked up quickly and
moved one hand to his sword while the other held his dagger. It was unlikely
that the noise had been an animal as they hadn’t seen a single one other than
the flayers since they entered the forest.
A moment later, a thought occurred to him and his caution turned to
annoyance as he sheathed the dagger and shook his head, “Mr. Lebatt!” he
shouted into the trees.
“Vaust?” Asla questioned as she tied the cloak over the alpha’s head. “Is
he here?” She stepped beside Devol as Jazai opened his tome.
“I heard something,” the swordsman stated gruffly and his gaze scanned
the trees. “I thought it was too good to be true that they would leave us to
deal with this alone.”
Asla sniffed the air. “That flayer’s miserable stench is still obscuring my
sense of smell, but I have not detected any familiar scents since we began our
journey.”
“It isn’t surprising,” the diviner said as he strolled up behind the two, his
gaze focused on his tome. “It stands to reason that anyone who has been
training with you has a very good idea how to get around your senses. But
this one, in particular, would be an expert at it.”
“So someone is here?” Devol grumbled and earned a nod from the
scholar.
“Yep, and he is super proud that his pup is becoming such a fine warrior,”
Jazai said teasingly and looked at Asla.
“Pup?” she demanded before her eyes narrowed and her hair stood on
end. “Freki! Get out here!” she yelled.
Another rustle issued from behind a tree across from them. The three
looked in that direction as the wolf wildkin strolled casually from behind it.
He smiled and waved sheepishly. Devol and Asla snorted annoyance and
Jazai merely chuckled and shut his tome.

“Haven’t I apologized enough, Asla?” Freki asked with a whine as his

apprentice continued to give him the silent treatment. The group now walked
along the path toward the anchor point that would return them to the Templar
hall.
“Yeah, keep crying Freki,” Jazai muttered and adjusted the large bundle
on his back that wrapped the alpha’s head. “I’m sure that will make her come
around.”
“It wasn’t my decision. I trusted you and your partners completely,” the
wildkin Templar explained with a touch of desperation. “I was told by the
grand mistress to accompany you.”
“And as no one thinks to gainsay her, the excuse works well,” Jazai
remarked with a snicker.
“Why do they keep sending you guys to shadow us?” Devol asked with a
glance at Freki, “I suppose I can understand the first mission as it was our
first time together and we did not know what could happen. But we’ve
trained and have run smaller quests on our lonesome. There should be some
trust now shouldn’t there?”
Freki sighed and when Asla continued to ignore him, he turned his
attention to the young swordmaster. “There is. That’s why I did not intervene,
although I was about to when that monster had you pinned.”
“I…appreciate the thought,” he responded dubiously. “So you were
merely on standby?”
“I was to be an observer,” the wildkin said and folded his arms.
“Observer? What were you watching us for?” Jazai questioned with a
baleful glance at the hunter.
“I cannot say,” he stated, which of course earned him another look of ire
from his ward.
“You should answer. I am curious as well,” she said, albeit quietly and in
a monotone that suggested she wasn’t as curious as she was annoyed.
“Asla!” Freki exclaimed, thrilled that she’d broken her frosty silence, but
she turned away and resumed her sulk. “I truly can’t. The grand mistress
asked me not to. I have probably already said too much but I’m sure she
plans to tell you once we return.”
“I’m beginning to sense that Miss Nauru is more mysterious than she lets
on,” Devol commented as they walked up a hill to a large tree stump.
“It comes with the title, I guess,” Jazai said as he shrugged his bundle off
and walked to the stump. He began to extend his hand but paused and looked
at Devol. “Hey, do you wanna give it a try?”
The swordsman nodded, “Sure. I have it down now, I think.” He placed
the four bags on the grass and approached the stump, rested his hand on the
top, and released a thread of mana. Several runes appeared on the wood and
he immediately pointed to the one that would provide access to the Templar
Order hall. He connected his mana to the rune and let it coat the symbol. As
soon as he filled it, a small portal appeared and he continued to let his mana
seep into the rune so the portal grew wider. He began to raise his hand slowly
but maintained the connection so the portal would remain.
“Not bad,” Jazai conceded with a pat on his shoulder. “At least you don’t
have to use your sword anymore.”
“It was awkward using it as a giant key,” he admitted as he picked the
four bags up—a little tricky given that he still had to control the gateway, and
the group hurried through. It shut as soon as he walked through and left no
traces of the magi as the fields fell silent once again.
 CHAPTER SIX

“Hey, guys, welcome back!” a joyful voice called as Devol exited the portal.
He looked up and waved at Acha, a reptilian squama Templar he had gotten
to know in his few months at the order. Alongside him was a human woman
known as Reina—not all that talkative but a skilled swordswoman—and a
dwarf by the name of Pete. The three stopped in front of the group and they
all exchanged greetings.
“Hey, Acha. Are you guys heading out?” Devol asked.
The squama nodded and patted the daggers on his waist. “Yeah. We
accepted a retrieval mission in the Osira kingdom.”
Asla looked at him with concern. “Will you be all right in such a dry
place?”
“He’ll be fine,” Pete said with a smirk and thumped a hand into the small
of his teammate’s back. “We made sure to pack extra water for that scaley
skin of his.”
Acha rubbed his back and nodded. “I’m not a red- or black-scale.” He
chuckled and tapped his cheek to highlight his dark-green scales. “So dry
environments aren’t my specialty. But Iguiza has dry climates as well. I
simply need to stay hydrated.”
“I have never been to your realm, but does Iguiza have anything like our
deserts?” Reina asked.
He looked at her with a sharp-toothed smile. “We call the area that the
black- and red-scales call home Ember Rock Plains. The heat there can reach
almost boiling levels.”
“And you can survive that?” she asked with a hint of shock in her
features.
 The squama’s toothy grin slimmed to a more jovial look. “Well, not
without the proper precautions—like my tunic.” He stretched the blue fabric.
“It’s light and breezy but it has a special coating that keeps me cool. It’s one
of the few things I brought with me when I joined the order.”
Reina shook her head as Pete chuckled. “Well, you could have explained
that.”
“It’s a pity about Kanami, though,” Pete remarked. Devol thought about
the Tsuna scholar he had occasionally seen working with Jazai and Zier. “She
badly wanted to come but the location is too much for her, at least for an
extended stay.”
“So you will be gone for a while?” Jazai asked.
Acha nodded. “Possibly. What we’re looking for…well, we don’t know
much yet.”
“What? Then how can you find it?” Devol inquired.
“We can certainly look for the signs.” Pete laughed wryly. “The thing is,
it seems it could be rather nasty. It is something magical, to be sure, and was
found by an archeology team that came through one of their many ancient
sites. The team disappeared, as has anyone who attempted to search for
them.”
“And you are not concerned that you are also now a team looking for
them?” Asla asked bluntly.
“We will be fine,” Reina assured them and placed a hand on the ornate
necklace she wore. “My majestic will keep us safe.”
“And mine will take care of anything in our way,” Pete boasted and
brandished the mace he had rested on his shoulder. It was almost as long as
his arm and a round white orb on the end featured cracked markings that
glowed orange. “We’ll be fine and wouldn’t have been requested if we
couldn’t handle it.”
“Or at least have a good chance to deal with it,” Acha added and tapped
his daggers. “If it turns out to be a majestic, maybe I can claim it for myself.”
“Potentially, but given the circumstances, you know what it is more likely
to be,” Reina replied.
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s probably a malefic. Oh, well. Macha
mentioned that there are a couple of majestics they are ready to test so I
might have to check with her once we return.” He looked at the Freki.
“Speaking of which, you might want to check in with mistress Nauru.”
The wolf wildkin nodded in agreement. “We were on our way to her.
We’ve just returned from a mission.”
“And this isn’t getting any lighter,” Jazai grumbled as he adjusted the
sack on his shoulder.
“But why do you say that, Acha?” the hunter questioned.
“From what we were told, this isn’t the only incident like this at the
moment,” the squama revealed.
“Aye, It seems a few of these odd anomalies have appeared,” Pete
continued. “And all at the same time. They started to come in before you left
but in the couple of days since you’ve been gone, we’ve had almost double
the number of requests for aid throughout the kingdoms.”
“All of the kingdoms have similar occurrences?” Freki asked. His voice
lowered as his eyes narrowed to show a more serious face that Devol only
saw him wear once in a while. “And we have no clues about any of them?”
“We have many theories, all supplied by the clients,” Reina replied with a
shrug. “I’m not sure how much good they are. They all seem a little
different.”
“I see.” Freki nodded and motioned for the younger Templars to follow
him. “Best of luck to you three. We’ll go and report to the grand mistress.”
“Aye, good fortune to ya!” Pete called as Acha waved cheerfully and
Reina opened the anchor point. The portal revealed a desert of golden sand
and amber skies that the trio walked into before it shut. Devol turned his
attention to the castle’s main gate.
A mysterious force spreading around the kingdoms? Potentially dark
magic of some kind involved? It sounded exciting!

“Hey, Heni, Coko! Are you here?” Freki called as they entered the main
lobby.
“Coming!” a sweet voice responded. Two of the stewards of the order
walked into the lobby from an adjacent room. Coko was a verte wildkin with
the appearance of a white-and-brown spotted rabbit and Heni was a large,
crimson-skinned daemoni man with curved horns who wore a double-
breasted black suit jacket and slacks. “Hey there, Freki and friends. How was
the mission?” Coko asked.
Heni eyed the wolf wildkin with curiosity. “I thought you were supposed
to hide from your charges.” The daemoni’s voice was deep and booming but
he spoke in a calm and polite tone.
Freki chuckled half-heartedly and nodded. “Yeah. I’m afraid I was
discovered. But they completed the mission before they saw me.”
The daemoni nodded and adjusted the collar of his suit. “The young
Templars must be impressive to have discovered you at any moment during
the trial.”
“It wasn’t as difficult as you might think,” Jazai told him and swung his
bundle. “Do you mind taking this, Heni?”
“This is the flayer mission from Brestshire, correct?” Heni asked as he
took the bundle from him and lifted it casually.
“Yes, sir.” Devol nodded and handed the smaller bags to Coko. “It was an
alpha leading a few smaller flayers. Are you okay with them, Coko?”
“Oh yeah, no worries!” she said although, with her tiny frame, the four
bags filled her arms and stacked on top of each other to obscure her face.
“We will make sure to send these to the clients,” Heni stated and held the
bundle at arms’ length so the fluids that darkened the cloth didn’t stain his
suit. “I recommend you inform the grand mistress that you have returned,
Freki. Both to tell her of the success of the mission and to attend to a new
development.”
The wildkin nodded “Yeah. We ran into Acha and his team on the way in.
They said something about anomalies popping up in all the kingdoms?”
“That is correct,” the daemoni acknowledged with a nod. “Fortunately,
the issue seems to be only on this realm so far. We are not quite sure if they
are related, but the grand mistress has asked me to send all higher-ranked
Templar to her whenever they arrive.”
“We’re on it.” Freki and Heni bowed slightly to one another as the tall
steward and his assistant wandered to the mailroom to transport the proof of
the flayers’ demise to the client. The wolf wildkin led the group to the main
stairs. “Let’s check in with Mistress Nauru and see about these new problems
that are springing up.”
Asla followed her mentor with Devol and Jazai a few paces behind. “I
wonder if we’ll be sent to investigate,” the young swordsman said quietly to
his friend. “I guess even if we are, it’s not like we’ll get to go on our own.”
“That might be a good thing in this case,” the diviner replied and
chuckled at the confused glance he received. “Don’t get me wrong. I was
annoyed like you and Asla that they sent a handler to keep track of us. I’m
simply better at hiding it.”
“But you’d be okay if they did it again?” Devol asked. “I thought we
were hoping to get out on our own.”
“There is a difference between having faith in us and throwing us to the
wolves,” Jazai warned as they began to ascend the stairs. “Having someone
watch over us while we dealt with a few flayers is a little insulting. But if
they sent us to look into something at our skill level when they don’t even
know what it is? Hells, I think we would be better off in a thieves guild.”
“Do you honestly think it could be something that bad?”
They reached the top of the steps and continued along the main hall to the
grand mistress’ chamber behind Freki and Asla. “You heard what Acha and
the others said, right? Those archeologists disappeared and anyone sent to
look for them.”
“Yeah? I thought the Templars were who you called to brave the
unknown,” Devol retorted.
Jazai smirked and nodded. “You still have that spirit. I would have lost a
bet by now,” he said but mostly to himself. “You are right in a way but
remember how most people see the Templars. Maybe a few centuries ago, we
would have been called in as soon as something like this happened, but
now?” He drew a deep breath and looked him in his eyes. “Now, it means
they have run out of options.”
 CHAPTER SEVEN

When Freki pushed the doors to the grand mistress’ room open, Devol felt
like he had walked into the middle of a council meeting. Zier and Wulfsun
were present, along with Vaust, surprisingly. The boy had seen him come and
go since his arrival and unlike the other elder Templars present, he was not
one of the mentors, which meant he had either invited himself or they had
indeed interrupted a rather dire meeting.
“A timely return, Freki.” The grand mistress’ voice seemed to drift
through the room. The swordsman finally located her where she was almost
hidden behind Wulfsun’s massive frame. She wore dark-blue robes. “Ah, and
the young magi are with you.”
“Of course, mistress,” the wolf wildkin said with a small bow. “They
performed admirably during their mission.”
“I would expect so,” Vaust commented from where he sat on a large chair
with his feet kicked onto a pink ottoman. “They were able to detect you as
well.”
Freki frowned slightly. “Perhaps I merely decided to accompany them on
their return after the mission.”
“Nah. He slipped up after we killed the flayer alpha,” Jazai interjected
and held his book up. “It turns out he’s a sucker for a happy ending,
especially when it comes to his ward.”
This earned him a tired and somewhat exasperated look from the wolf
wildkin and an irate one from Asla, who pushed Freki forward.
“We completed the mission, Madame Nauru,” she explained without
preamble. “We were told that there have been some interesting developments
since we departed?”
 “Interestin’, sure.” Wulfsun snickered. “I prefer my interestin’ things to
be more jovial and less evil-soundin’.”
Nauru closed her eyes and nodded slowly, “Yes, some rather unfortunate
events are taking place around the kingdoms, but we will return to that in a
moment.” She glanced at the wildkin mentor, whose blue eyes glimmered
under the shade of her hanging garden. “Tell me, Freki—how did they fare
on their own?”
He glanced at Jazai, who gave him a mischievous grin before he shook
his book again in response. The hunter waved him off as he approached the
head of the Templar Order. “They took care of it, madame, and as you can
see, gained a few small wounds to boot.”
“Although with a flayer alpha, one good strike is all it takes,” Zier
interjected and his apprentice scowled.
“It was a mana-infused flayer too,” Devol added and drew the attention of
all present, “Jazai said it might have eaten a powerful magi or something.
Honestly, it took a fair amount of work to kill it.”
“Is this true?” the dryad asked and looked at Freki, who nodded. The old
scholar tapped his chin in amusement. “So not only an alpha flayer but an
awoken one as well?”
“Awoken?” Devol asked and glanced at the apprentice. “Do you care to
translate?”
“It’s merely the designation they give to beasts and critters that can access
mana,” Jazai replied. “Like I said, every living thing has mana but it doesn’t
mean it can use it well or even use it at all. Animals, in particular, aren’t
exactly known for it outside a handful of creatures in the Osiris and Soel
kingdoms. The idea is if they do find a way to access mana, even in rather
unfortunate ways, they’ve ‘awakened’ to it.”
“It’s typically not a wonderful thing, given that the most well-known
method to achieve this is by devouring a mana-user as your flayer friend
did,” Vaust added and seemed thoughtful as if he sifted through his
memories. “Although I do recall coming across an awoken stag once in my
travels in Britana. I don’t know how that happened, but it could bloom
flowers in its wake.”
“It sounds enchantin’,” Wulfsun commented and stroked his beard. “I
didn’t think that would make an impression on ya. Doesn’t Avadon have
loads of awoken beasties?”
“Oh, certainly,” Vaust replied with a smirk. “They are nasty little
creatures, especially those that eat the purps and flowers we use to make our
enchanted wine.” He held his gourd up with a smile as he popped the top. “It
leaves less for me and it’s also why we keep our forests to a minimum
outside the Scarred Valley.”
“Moving on,” Zier interrupted grumpily and turned to the grand mistress.
“I suppose we should show a little more faith in our protégés—as you have,
Madame Nauru. If we had made a bet, we would all have to pay.”
Wulfsun coughed as he slid his hand into his satchel and handed two
cobalt shards to the mistress. “Speaking of…”
The dryad’s eyes narrowed. “How do you keep any cobalt for yourself?”
“I win some bets. I’m not a complete idiot.” The man snorted as he folded
his large arms.
Before the scholar could retort, his gaze returned to Nauru. “Wait—you
bet with him?”
“I don’t recall,” she replied and frowned at the shards. “I think it might be
the fact that I simply didn’t say no.”
Wulfsun shrugged and held a hand out. “I’d be happy to take those back,
madame, so you don’t need to fret about taking part in such a nasty habit as
gamblin’.”
Nauru looked at the shards for a moment before she tucked them slowly
into her sleeves. “No, it is quite all right, Captain. I’ll simply consider this
your tithe.”
The Templar’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Tithe? Are we a parish
now?”
“You’ve lived here your entire life, Wulfsun. You should know she’s
playing you,” Vaust chided teasingly and took a sip from his gourd.
“Although I suppose I could also be wrong. If that is the case, I should be
more concerned. I take pride in my ability to speak blasphemy quite
fluently.”
Devol approached his friends as the others continued to make jokes and
snide remarks at each other’s expense, with the exception of Nauru. The
swordsman folded his arms as he watched the display. “So I assume this
means it isn’t that much of an emergency?”
“Huh? No, this is fairly common.” Jazai flipped through his tome before
he sighed and shut it. “Their animas are up. Anyway, even in dire situations,
they are likely to joke and such. You have to be comfortable with a little
gallows humor around here.”
 “I think the only situation that would truly get them riled up would be if
someone knocked our gates down,” Asla added and pursed her lips in
thought. “Although maybe that is not a guarantee either. They might find it
amusing.”
Nauru looked at the young magi and nodded to them in sympathy before
she held a hand up to silence the others in the room. “You can continue your
little squabbles another time, gentlemen,” she stated and folded her hands
into her sleeves. “We should return to the matter at hand but first, with the
completion of their mission, the young ones should now know what could
potentially lie in store for them.”
Freki and Wulfsun shifted uncomfortably, Zier locked eyes with Jazai,
and Vaust merely glanced at them as he took another sip. All three
youngsters felt an odd chill at the sudden shift in the mood in the room
“Is something fatal involved?” Devol asked when no one seemed inclined
to speak.
“Potentially,” Zier responded and drew an angry stare from Wulfsun and
growl from Freki before Nauru held her hand out to stop them.
“This seems rather a jump,” Jazai stated and studied the faces of the elder
Templars. “You don’t trust us to do a mission alone but now you are putting
us in a situation that could potentially end our lives?”
“Well, the mission you completed could have ended that way,” Nauru
pointed out and took several steps forward toward them. “And you need not
worry about this now, young magi, but with your completion of this mission
—one with a red mark—you have now completed two missions that can
qualify you for a challenge that can potentially open not only this world to
you, but almost all the realms.”
While some of what she had said flew right over Devol’s head, her last
statement certainly caught his attention. “What do you mean, madame?”
She paused and looked up at her garden again. “You all have your
reasons for being here in the order. Not all by choice, necessarily, and
perhaps a couple of you are not completely sure where your road will lead.
With that in mind, we have been testing your potential.” She turned, moved
toward her desk, and opened one of the drawers.
“We already knew you were all gifted in your individual ways,” she
continued. “But even the finest sword is no use if it simply rests on a mantle.
The missions and quests we have had you do over these last three months
since the day we brought you together for that first retrieval mission were not
without a particular purpose. It was to see if you could qualify for a challenge
that makes even great warriors and skilled magi shudder to participate.”
She turned toward them again and held some type of badge or signet up.
It was a jet-black spiral shape with the only exception being a shining silver
diamond in the center that stood out even more against the deep black of the
object. “Tell me, have any of you heard about the Oblivion Trials?”
 C H A P T E R E I G HT

Each of the three young magi had different reactions to Nauru’s query.
Jazai stared at her in surprise bordering on shock, as he had indeed heard
of the Oblivion Trials and very little of it was good.
Asla was frozen by trepidation. The trials sounded familiar to her but she
couldn’t place from where. However, when she saw the reaction from her
mentor as his apprehensive gaze drifted from her to the grand mistress, she
realized that whatever it might be, it was nothing to be taken lightly.
Devol’s response was almost nonexistent. He had no idea what this trial
was, only that it seemed to rattle almost everyone in the room. Vaust seemed
fine, although not either of his usual reticent or snarky selves. The boy raised
his hand and stepped forward.
“Um…I don't know what those are, madame,” he admitted. “But if it’s
another mission or something, can I request that we go alone this time?”
Jazai caught him by the shoulder and pulled him back a couple of steps.
“You might want to hold off on that for a minute, Dev,” the apprentice
warned in a hushed tone. Devol noted this was the second time the diviner
seemed hesitant to take on a challenge. He was no coward and was usually as
interested in having more freedom as he and Asla were, but he also seemed
more aware of the lines they shouldn’t cross quite yet. Things had certainly
become far grimmer since they returned to the order, he thought and focused
on the grand mistress.
Nauru seemed to understand the confusion and placed the sigil on her
desk. “I suppose it was a silly question to begin with,” she reasoned and
walked closer to the three friends. “Even if you did know of the trials, it
would probably be through rumors and such, which can provide quite a
skewed perception of the event.”
Jazai relaxed slightly, folded his arms, and nodded. “Ah, okay. I was
worried these were the same trials that I heard ended fairly gruesomely.”
She nodded at him. “Indeed, that would be downplaying it.”
Jazai’s face fell and he stared at her in stupefaction. “Pardon?”
“The Oblivion Trials are rather gruesome throughout,” she explained with
an unnatural calm given the topic. “Not only in the finale. But that is part of
the reason why I wished to discuss it with you.” She wandered to the foot of
her bed, sat, and beckoned them closer. “You are all still young and your path
in life can still take many directions. With that in mind, I decided that while
you are here, you should have an opportunity for an option that would let you
expand outside the order if you wished to do so.”
“By participating in an event that you acknowledge is typically a
bloodbath?” the apprentice questioned. He looked at Devol, who remained
silent and merely listened to the conversation to see where it went. His gaze
drifted to Asla, who was looking away, lost in her thoughts. “I guess I can
appreciate the idea behind the thought, but I’m beginning to think this was
dreamed up by Zier trying to get rid of me.”
“Nonsense, Jazaiah,” the dryad claimed, his head held high. “How would
that benefit me in the long run?” The boy frowned at his mentor, not quite
sure what to make of his reaction.
“Yes, the Oblivion Trials can be rather harrowing,” Nauru acknowledged.
“However, do you know the reason why people seek out the trials?”
This time, it was Devol who answered. “I assume there is some great
reward to be won?” He pointed to the badge on the desk. “That object looks
valuable.”
“It is indeed,” she confirmed. “That is known as the oblivion marker. It is
given to those who pass the trials. Typically, only a small number are given
out each year—ten at most—and they are prized among adventurers for what
they can do for them.”
“Are they some kind of rune or trinket?” Asla asked, now focused on the
conversation again.
“It is a badge, one that grants access to many things for the owner,”
Nauru explained. “You see, the trials were established an exceptionally long
time ago. They were devised by three royals from the kingdoms of
Renaissance, Britana, and Osira when the other realms were first discovered.
The purpose of the trials was to find adventurers, soldiers, and magi who
were willing to brave the realms to discover what lay inside.”
“Oh, I know about that!” Devol exclaimed when he recalled a little
history his mother had taught him. “The Grand Arkadia Tournament was
named after the world as a whole to signify unity. They still hold that to this
day with all other kingdoms as well.”
“Correct,” the grand mistress said with a nod and a bemused smile.
“Although these days, it is a tournament to strengthen bonds between the
kingdoms as well as build personal kingdom pride. The first was established
as a secret test for the three great kingdoms to find those strong and brave
enough to venture into the unknown. It became a separate event afterward.”
“So these Oblivion Trials are run by the kingdoms?” Asla asked and
scratched her neck, her face scrunched in thought.
“Not quite,” Wulfsun interjected. “They are run by a separate council
now, which is made up of members from all kingdoms and even several
realms.”
“Have you ever made the attempt, Wulfsun?” Devol asked.
The Templar captain nodded, slid his hand into his jacket, and produced a
badge that he held out for the trio to see. “A handful of us here in the order
have. In fact, a few of that number are in this room.”
Freki retrieved his marker from the front pocket of his jacket. Vaust
whipped his cloak over his shoulder and pointed to his marker that was
attached to his tunic and almost blended into the dark fabric. The three young
magi looked at Zier, who simply shrugged. “I had no use for one.”
Jazai rolled his eyes. “Well, it makes you stand out at this moment.”
The dryad nodded. “Perhaps, but it is something to consider as Madame
Nauru continues her explanation. You may know the trials by reputation—
one that is rather grim. Do consider the possibilities she is about to tell you
about but also consider if they are worth it to you.”
Devol looked at the grand mistress. “What does one of these markers
do?”
“They allow a freedom most cannot find in not only the kingdoms but
several of the realms,” she stated. “The reputation from the trials is well
earned and as such, great weight is carried by those markers. If you have one,
I am sure any guild in the kingdom would be willing for you to join them at
your request. They act as passports for travel to any kingdom and several of
the realms. You will be given access to numerous special storehouses and
inns for supplies and shelter and have the opportunity to take on secret
missions—ones that bring rewards of great riches that can only be taken by
those with oblivion markers.”
“You could also simply sell them,” Wulfsun admitted, flipped his in the
air, and caught it. “Many collectors would pay more than their weight in
cobalt to have one of these. I’m not sure why but the jewel in the middle of
the marker is diament. It is another one of the few materials that can harness
mana.” He held the badge again out and let a trickle of his mana flow into it.
The jewel created silver lines around the darkness of the black material and
formed into a rose-shaped pattern. “It only reacts to the owner’s mana, even
if it is stolen or traded, so it’s not like they can get any use out of them. But
some people simply like having rare things, I suppose.”
“And on top of that, they give you a fair amount of leeway with the law,”
Vaust continued as he tucked his cloak into its usual folds. “Those secret
missions can also include political ones or even sanctioned killing. As such,
there are certain things those who have a marker can get away with without
recourse, thanks to special sanctions given to those who succeed in the
trials.”
“Which is part of the danger,” Nauru admitted. “The trials today include
more than only adventurers and soldiers. Thieves, assassins, dark magi, and
many more often enter, looking to gain a badge for sinister reasons. You will
compete against them for one of the markers should you choose to pursue this
course.”
Devol nodded and considered everything he’d heard before he asked,
“What would we have to do? You said we were only nearly there, right?”
Asla and Jazai seemed similarly interested if more uneasy about the prospect.
Nauru looked at Wulfsun, who nodded as he put his marker away. “That
is correct. Although it was not intended, your first mission together became
what is known as a red-marked mission due to the circumstances. This was
also true for the one you completed now.”
“I see,” Asla said. She glanced at Freki, then Vaust. “Is that why you sent
observers?”
“Indeed, although in the case of the mission in Rouxwoods, that was
simply because of the contents of the package. We did not know about the
thieves who wanted to acquire it.” The grand mistress spoke with a hint of
sorrow in her tone. “But we want one more test to confirm your preparation
and…well, for assistance.” She turned to them and rested a hand on
Wulfsun’s shoulder. “And this time, you will not be shadowed. Instead, you
will be under the command of the good captain.”
Wulfsun looked at the three friends with a massive grin.
Jazai ran a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. “Well, I
suppose that is one way to make me prefer being watched. Being babysat.”
 CHAPTER NINE

“So Wulfsun will be leading us?” Asla asked and looked at her mentor,
whose eyes narrowed at the Templar captain. “Are we his soldiers then?”
“You are my comrades, as always!” Wulfsun declared. When they
regarded him dubiously, he shrugged and opened his hands expansively and
somewhat apologetically. “It is only that…well, the current circumstances are
peculiar and I have the most experience in our little troop.”
Devol folded his arms and fixed the man with a look that bordered on
contempt. “When I asked to be your apprentice, you gave me the run around
when I thought you would be on board. What changed now?”
The older Templar grumbled and shook his head. “This isn’t about that,
lad! This is about the mission and assessing your skills in the field.” He
smiled encouragingly and nudged Nauru. “And remember what one of my
conditions was?”
“You gave me several,” Devol recalled.
Wulfsun rolled an eye, “The big one, lad. The one I said I couldn’t
overlook.”
“Oh, right. Permission from my parents.” The boy sighed and recalled the
rather in-depth conversation the two had on the topic when he brought it up.
He thought that since they had sent him to the Templars in the first place and
he was only a year away from being able to enlist in the guard without
permission, he should have the authority to make large decisions like joining
the Templar Order on his own. Wulfsun, however, was adamant about that
particular point and it was one he had yet to take care of between the training,
quests, and missions.
“Right you are!” the large man declared. “But should you join me on this
mission, you may have a chance to zap two critters with one spell, as it
happens.”
“What do you mean?” Devol asked and glanced at Nauru for an
explanation.
She beckoned to Zier, who retrieved a small box. He opened it and a large
map appeared in mid-air to display the land of Renaissance. It shifted to
focus on the city of Levirei. “This is where we got the mission request from,”
she explained as the map changed to a massive ethereal depiction of the city.
The large, spiraling tower in the center known as the Star Seeker Tower stood
prominently in the image. “A lord from the town requested our aid in a matter
that would be most shocking under normal circumstances, although we have
become quite used to it over the last few days.”
“Which might be an issue in and of itself,” Zier noted.
“There has been some mystical disturbance in a valley not far from the
city’s borders. They have not been able to discover what caused it or even
what it is.”
“Is it the same thing Acha and the others are investigating?” Freki asked.
“I cannot say for sure but similar descriptions were given by completely
different sources.” She extended a hand and moved the map to a large black
patch. “It is some kind of dark magic and has either killed or incapacitated
any who have attempted to dispel it or enter. In all areas, the best they have
been able to do is contain it in a variety of ways but no one has managed to
snuff it out.”
“So…do you think it is malefic-related?” Jazai asked and when a few
gazes settled on him, he raised his hands cautiously. “I’m not trying to spook
anyone. All I’m saying is that seems to be one of the more logical theories. If
this was simply basic dark magic or ritual gone wrong, there are many
specialists who could take care of it. Outside of perhaps a few cities that like
us, there would be no reason for anyone to call on us for this.”
Zier, although possibly a little annoyed at his apprentice’s frankness,
could not exactly disagree. “Malefic, blood magic, or a wicked entity are the
current guesses.”
“Wicked?” Devol asked and drew a curious look from Asla as well.
“Basically a cursed person or creature,” the young diviner explained.
“Rather like the awoken but generally of an even worse disposition. Usually,
blood, dark, or abyssal magic is involved.”
“Abyssal magic?” Wulfsun murmured and stroked his beard. “I hadn’t
thought of that. It would make some sense. Does anyone want to bet on it?”
This was met by groans and chuckles throughout the room.
Devol raised a hand. “I think you might have a problem, Wulfsun.”
The captain sighed and waved a hand to dismiss the suggestion. “In any
case, it’s all hands on deck right now. All experienced Templar are heading
out to check on these things. We’ve had about nine different mission requests
to look into ‘dark happenings’ of some kind over the last few days all across
Arkana. And since they are ‘undiscovered’ missions, that means they are
black-marked.”
“Before you ask, Devol,” Vaust interjected and drew the boy’s attention,
“I assume you have yet to have someone explain a mission’s ranking
system?”
“I have not been told anything but I can guess that it is similar to the
missions my father would post for the other guardsman.” The young
swordsman counted off using his fingers. “Green, yellow, and orange. Green
missions meant they were simple and quick and orange were difficult and
dangerous. Guards could earn extra coin if they took those missions that were
outside the city, generally joining military soldiers.”
Vaust nodded, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Very similar, yes. But for
guilds, it is a little more expansive.” He held a hand up and spread his
fingers. Five small dots appeared above them and all except the one over his
pointer finger turned a different color. Devol guessed it was due to a
transmutation cantrip. Starting from his pinky, it went green, yellow, orange,
red, then black. “We have two extra colors as you can see—red and black.
Red is the most difficult, typically, which is what the missions you have done
so far have been classified as.”
“Okay…” Devol said, a little surprised that they had been able to
complete the most difficult missions themselves now that he thought about it.
After a moment, however, he shook his head. “Wait—you helped with the
first one.”
“Correction, I saved you during the first one,” Vaust responded and
closed his hand. The mana spots disappeared. “But you all did well and I
can’t take that from you. And before you get too excited about your last
mission”—he looked at the wolf wildkin—“Freki, even though it was a red-
marked quest, how would you rate it?”
“Eh, orange at best, no stars,” Freki replied casually before his gaze
snapped to Asla and he assumed a fretful expression. “Erm…maybe one
star?”
“Stars?” Devol interjected. “Is that another marker?”
“Indeed Like I said, our system is more nuanced.” Vaust held three pale
fingers up. “Missions have a color and either no star or up to three. This is to
help with planning and building teams and all that. Also, it increases the price
for the clients, so you want to make sure you know what you are asking.” He
leaned back in his chair and swished his gourd. “I asked Freki his opinion
because as a hunter and someone who has been on numerous missions, he has
a much better grasp of the difficulty of certain tasks. Sometimes, you get
lucky and are given a higher marked mission that is easier than expected.”
“It seems a little dishonest to take advantage of that,” Devol remarked
and Jazai slapped a hand to his forehead.
“I will never haggle with you around,” he muttered.
“Same here.” Vaust chuckled, “You are a noble one, aren’t you, Devol?”
“I think it is an exemplary show of character,” Nauru stated calmly in an
attempt to bolster the boy.
“Of course you would. You are the grand mistress of the Templar Order,”
Vaust replied and took a sip. “It would be bad form for you to think
otherwise.”
“And it is not the same for my men and women?” she retorted and her
eyes narrowed at the mori, their blue depths smoldering.
“Of course it is,” he stated with an easy smile. “I’m merely the exception.
My specialty is killing, after all, so what’s a little scheming on top of that?”
She sighed and brushed him off. “Please remember we have young ones
with us and set a positive example,” she muttered and turned to address the
three friends. “Black-marked quests can be the most difficult but if they have
no stars, that typically means we have no confirmed details for them. In such
cases, they are automatically marked black and are only able to be taken by
the most experienced members of guilds and mercenaries. That is the reason
why this will be an official mission for Wulfsun with you as his
subordinates.”
“Young comrades,” he corrected, his gaze on Devol, “Although we may
have to put that on paper for practical reasons.”
“Okay, I understand all that,” the swordsman acknowledged and held two
fingers up. “I have two questions, though.”
“Go ahead,” Nauru told him.
He lowered one finger. “So if we complete this mission, we’ll be sent to
the trials?”
She shook her head. “This is a final observation to see if you would
qualify for the trials in our eyes. Technically, you could take part in them if
you happened to stumble upon them.”
“Pardon?” Asla asked but the woman remained silent and merely gave
her a small smile.
“Okay, then,” Devol said, shrugged, and lowered his hand, “Then can we
get back to what Wulfsun said before?”
“What about?” the captain asked and frowned as he tried to recall what
this might be.
The boy pointed to the magical map. “You said this could ‘zap two
critters with one spell.’ I assume one of the critters is getting this qualification
from you, but what is the other?”
The man looked at the map and nodded. “Ah…right! I almost forgot to
mention that.” He looked at Nauru, who granted her permission with a nod
for him to continue. “Well, boy, we have no anchors that take us directly to
Levirei, so we’ll have to take a train there.”
“A train?” Devol inquired and understanding lit his eyes. “What—oh. A
train would take us through—”
“Aye, lad.” Wulfsun smiled broadly. “We’ll take the train to Levirei from
your home city, Monleans.”
 CHAPTER TEN

Far away from the order, in a darkened forest in the corner of the Britana
Kingdom, was an old, neglected manor that had stood for more than three
centuries. At one point, it was a prized abode, built by an earl who had made
a fortune selling specific curios during a fad period all those years before. He
had only lived in the house for a few years and was eventually driven away
by his paranoia, or so the townsfolk from the nearby village said—or at least
they did when they had lived there. The village had been abandoned a good
many years earlier.
It was in this darkened mansion that Salvo stood, his jaw clenched as he
shut the front doors behind him and walked into the main lobby. Dark wood,
rickety floors, and a few vases and statues left behind when the earl had fled
his home created a dismal scene, most of them in various states of disrepair.
He walked past the curved stairs and into a long hallway, although he paid
little attention to his route. Resentment seethed within him as he considered
what he should do next. Ever since the failed mission, he had been given
busy work—tasks meant for the underlings, not him.
But it wasn’t only pure frustration and feeling cheated that made him so
bitter. If it were only that he would have simply burned the manor down and
left his employer, although he had almost done exactly that on a few
occasions. For once, his annoyance was eclipsed by something else—
disappointment in himself. He felt he had let down one of the few people—
perhaps the only person—he respected more than himself.
Footsteps ahead intruded and Salvo’s instincts were still keen enough to
snap him out of his brooding. He looked at a familiar face, although it
seemed foolish to call it that given that the person it belonged to could
change it on a whim. Koli strolled casually up the hall and smiled at his
partner in amusement.
“Well, hello there, Salvo,” he said cheerfully as thunder cracked outside.
“You missed the rain. Good fortune seems to be following you.”
“Like a geist, Koli.” he retorted, his voice low and harsh. “Are those
maniacs in?”
“Do they ever leave?” his partner responded and held his nose for a
moment. “I’m beginning to wonder if hygiene is a foreign concept to them.”
Salvo shrugged and prepared to move past. “It makes no difference to me.
I’m only here to pick up spare bodies.”
Koli raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You have good timing. The next
batch won’t be here for a few weeks from what I understand. Are you going
somewhere?”
He stopped and straightened as he fixed the trickster with a firm look. “I
am done simply waiting for orders and being the others’ errand boy. I’m
going to go and find them, Koli.”
“Oh. You’re showing initiative. Who are you looking for?” As much as
Salvo’s current demeanor simply begged to be prodded, he was genuinely
curious at what plan his former partner’s mind had concocted over these last
few boring months.
“The ones who took the box,” Salvo stated and clenched his fists as he
shoved his hands into his pocket. “Those damned Templars.”
Koli nodded. He had assumed it would come to that eventually. “Is that
an order from your glorious leader?” This was answered by something sharp
and warm that poked at his cheek. His partner had produced his wand, Kapre,
and pointed it at him with a shaking fist.
“Do not mock me or him, Koli!” he insisted and small sparks of flame
flared from the red jewel at the top of the wand. “And don’t be so arrogant.
You had the box and lost it. You couldn’t even handle a few brats so I will
not listen to you prattle on about your—”
“If you recall,” Koli interrupted as he slipped a hand under his eyepatch,
“it was my partner who was the first to retreat.” He raised the eyepatch to
reveal his malefic. “And, as much fun as it would have been to have a chance
at the mori, a rather interesting development occurred during my fight as
well.”
Salvo hesitated and the sparks faded from his wand as he growled and put
it away. “Yeah, that majestic blade. You told us,” he muttered. As much as
his rage fueled him, his better judgment still won out. He couldn’t fight Koli
on his own and especially not in a place like this. “Whatever. Leave it be. I’ll
have my chance to see what it does for myself.” With that, he attempted to
leave again but his companion reached back and caught his sleeve.
“Tell me, do you have a plan to find them?” he asked, “or will you simply
spend a good while walking the lands in a big game of hide and seek?”
Salvo yanked his sleeve away. “I’ll start burning things and get their
attention. Maybe I’ll start with Rouxwoods where we saw them last.”
Koli chuckled. “I admire your tenacity, but that’s more likely to draw in
far more than only the Templars, if they show up at all.”
“So be it,” the other magi retorted. “I need to release some anger anyway,
and if that doesn’t work, I’ll eventually think of something else once I’ve
cooled down.”
“Cooled down?” The trickster continued to snicker. “There’s a better
chance of the Astrals returning than that happening, Salvo. Even in your
state, you must realize that.”
“What’s it to you?” Salvo snapped and spun to face him. “You’ve run
odd jobs since the failure the same as I have. I haven’t seen you doing
anything to help look for them.”
“I was not asked to,” Koli stated, his tone matter of fact. “I’m on contract,
unlike you. In fact, I made a delivery to our dear friends down below that will
finish my term under your lord’s employ. I had hoped to run into you at the
estate, but it seems fortuitous that I run into you now.”
“Is that so?” the fire magi muttered and shook his head. “I know you are
playing coy, Koli. You have at least some idea of what he plans to do. Why
bother leaving? You are paid well and once he changes the realms, what good
will it be to not serve under him?”
Koli frowned and pulled his eyepatch down. “I still have my freedom of
choice, Salvo. No one will strip that from me,” he replied, his gaze calm and
deliberate. “That was something we both held dear at one point.”
Salvo’s eyes narrowed behind their shades. “Who says I don’t? But even I
can see the inevitable. I guess I learned that no matter how far above fate you
think you are, it finds a way to slap you back into reality.”
The assassin studied the man he once believed he knew and felt
somewhat disappointed. But in spite of that—or perhaps due to the time they
had shared—he decided to offer him some aid. He reached into his tunic and
retrieved a device. “Here, take this.”
 “An a-stone?” The fire magi took it and examined it curiously. “What? Is
this for us to stay in touch?”
“You know I’m not that sentimental, Salvo,” Koli teased and held a
finger up. “During that little scuffle in Rouxwoods, I did one small thing to
be safe. I planted a rune—a tiny one—that let me attach a trace amount of
mana onto it to open a small line of communication, which would allow me
to listen to anyone speaking within the vicinity of the box.”
“What?” The other man gasped. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“I told your boss,” he said with a smirk. “I let him decide whether to tell
others. I guess he chose to keep it to himself.”
Salvo grimaced but looked at the a-stone. “How much longer will the
rune last?”
“Oh, not long at all at this point,” Koli admitted with a shrug. “A day,
maybe a little more. As I said, it was rather small so it would not be
discovered easily. Fortunately, the contents of the box seemed to obscure it
for the most part. But that’s not what you should be concerned about.” He
pointed at the a-stone and circled his finger. “I heard something quite
interesting before I arrived. It appears your quarry is preparing to leave on
another mission. They intend to go to Levirei to investigate some disturbance
there.”
“They are?” his partner asked, his eyes wide as the smallest grin began to
form on his lips. “When?”
“In a day or so. You can listen to the conversation for yourself. The mori
won’t be with them, it seems. Another Templar named Wulfsun will lead
them. And it appears they are investigating dark, ominous magic that has
been springing up throughout all the kingdoms. It seems Alastair is getting
things going now, huh?”
Salvo’s eyes widened even more. “He’s already beginning? No, this must
be one of the tests he mentioned.”
“I would think so. It’s causing quite a fuss, whatever it is, but it’s hardly
something that will bring down kingdoms and empires.” Koli smirked. “Do
with the information what you will but hopefully, you won’t be so sulky from
now on.”
Salvo certainly was not. He was now genuinely smiling as he rested a
hand on the trickster’s shoulder. “I knew there was a reason why I kept you
around.”
“How sweet.” Koli chuckled and ran a hand through his violet locks.
“Listen, Salvo, since I’m on my own again and have time to kill, I suppose I
could accompany you one last time if you like.”
The fire mage removed his hand from his shoulder, his smile still present,
but he shook his head. “No, I gotta do this. I want to do this on my own.
Unless you want a rematch yourself, I don’t need you to intrude in my fun.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Fair enough. Are you sure you can take on
another Templar on your own? I’m sure this Wulfsun has a majestic as well.”
Salvo moved his jacket aside and unclipped a box from his waist.
“Despite what you may think, Alastair still trusts me.” He produced the box
and showed it to the assassin.
Koli’s eyes narrowed before a bemused grin snaked onto his face. “I see.
I guess he was saving that experiment for a different time?”
“Either that or he realized it could be more useful in my hands,” the fire
mage replied and put the box away. “I’ll get a few more tools from the freaks.
After that, I’ll listen to what you gave me and be on my way.”
“I see.” He nodded, turned away, and headed out of the hall. “Then I wish
you well in your hunt, Salvo.”
“Where will you go now, Koli?” he asked. “Will you simply wander
around causing a little slaughter on the way?”
“Not precisely,” he admitted and slid his hands into his pants pockets. “I
also heard something interesting for me in that conversation—something I
had thought about doing for a while and well…I have the time now.”
“Then I guess I wish you luck in whatever the hells that is,” the fire mage
told him, now so enthusiastic that he almost skipped down the hall that led to
the basement stairs.
Koli reached the doors to the main entrance and opened them to glance at
the rain that poured outside. “You should probably save that for yourself,
Salvo,” he whispered as he set off. Lightning flashed above but not a drop of
rain fell on him. “Even if you are victorious against the Templars, I do not
believe you have chosen wisely when it comes to a free future.”
He stared at the sky. Another bolt of lightning streaked through the wide
expanse and the white light reminded him of the light from Devol’s majestic.
He smiled when he thought of it. “And that may lead to me doing something
rather naughty.”
 C H A P T E R E LE V E N

Jazai opened the door to the roof of the center spire, his personal area where
he would go to think when things became too heavy for him. He had
forgotten that it was not exactly unknown and was also no longer only his.
“Evening, Jazai.” Devol looked over his shoulder at the apprentice as he
closed the door. “Have you come to think?”
“I guess I could talk instead,” he responded as he walked to the
swordsman’s side and leaned against the railing. “Are you thinking about the
Oblivion Trials?”
“Eh?” his friend muttered, his attention focused on the stars. “That seems
a little far off to worry about now. I’m thinking about the mission.”
He regarded his friend with a mixture of confusion and amusement before
he turned and looked at the stars with him. “I’m curious about something,
Dev.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way although admittedly, I’m not sure how to
phrase this so it doesn’t sound mocking.” He glanced at him and hesitated
slightly before he continued. “How are you so naïve about the wider world?
You grew up as the son of a guard captain in Monleans, the capital of
Renaissance, and were taught by your mother who was schooled in one of the
finest academies. You aren’t exactly a farm boy from a tiny village.”
Devol's response was simply a good-natured chuckle and a shrug. “I
realized that myself on the Rouxwoods mission, if you recall.” He looked a
little sheepish. “I guess it was because I was so focused on being in the
guards that all my training was put into that. You still have to go through a
couple of years of physical and educational instruction in the guards, so
learning more about things outside of kingdom history—math, and sciences,
schools on bestiary and such—all that could wait until then. I’m not sure if
my mother or father are aware of things like malefics and the Oblivion Trials.
I assume they might be. Perhaps they hoped I would never have to worry
about them.”
Jazai laughed dryly, “Poor luck for you, it seems.”
His friend responded with a slightly goofy smile, “Maybe, but in a way, I
was still taught right.” He tapped the hilt of his majestic on his back. “I may
have not been in the know about these kinds of things, but I’m prepared for
them nonetheless. It’s something I should thank my parents for when I see
them again.”
The young diviner nodded and thought briefly of his father. “You haven’t
seen them since you arrived, have you?”
“No, but I’ve sent them letters.” He shook his head with a self-
deprecating smile. “I’ve left out some of the more intense things. My father
might be amused by our missions but my mother may be a little more
concerned.”
“They sent you to train with the Templar so they have to know something
like that would happen,” the apprentice responded. “Although you were
certainly sent downriver damn quickly.”
“It’s the best kind of training if you ask me,” Devol retorted with a laugh.
The door to the spire opened again and they turned as Asla stepped out. “Hey
there, Asla.”
“Good evening.” She shut the door and joined them at the railing. “I like
this perch, Jazai.”
The magi nodded. “I liked the peace,” he said with a sly grin. “But the
company is appreciated too.”
“We were talking about the upcoming mission,” Devol told her and
hopped up to sit on the rail. “And about the trials later down the line.”
She nodded and tapped her claws on the metal. “Yes, I’ve thought about
that too.”
The young swordsman folded his arms and looked from one to the other.
“Both of you seem worried about those.”
“Well, yeah,” Jazai stated flatly. “It’s a nice gesture, I suppose, but I have
to admit that taking part in the Oblivion Trials was not something I
contemplated personally until today.”
“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Devol asked. “Almost all the mentors have
completed it.”
His companions both sighed. “True, but they also completed it when they
were older. I believe Wulfsun and Freki were around twenty years of age
when they attempted it. I am unsure how old Vaust or the grand mistress
were, but potentially centuries,” Asla explained.
The apprentice shook his head. “Honestly, even the experience that
comes with age doesn’t automatically guarantee victory. I’ve heard that many
older magi—even those from other realms who vastly outlive humans—have
fallen in the trials.”
“Really?” The swordsman seemed unconcerned as he returned his focus
to the stars. “I understand if neither of you wants to participate. It is a big
risk. But I have to admit I’ll be lonely without you.”
Jazai stared at him, his expression one of confusion, and he moved closer
to him and leaned against the railing. “Wait—what? You’ve already decided?
I thought you said it was too far away to worry about right now.”
Devol shook his head. “Oh no. I made my mind up before we were
dismissed from the meeting. I merely think it’s too far away to be troubled by
it at the moment.”
Asla hopped onto the railing and steadied herself on the balls of her feet.
“Might I ask what makes you so confident, Devol? Do you truly not
understand what awaits you in the trials?”
They waited in silence while he considered the question. “Well, I suppose
I don’t, not entirely, but isn’t that the point? It’s supposed to be mysterious,
isn’t it?”
Jazai looked like he thought he might be dreaming and should slap
himself out of it. “Yes,” he said finally, “but the one thing you do know is
that there is a very high mortality rate.”
“The same could be said about the mission we are about to do,” Devol
replied. “In this case, we know people have either died or simply disappeared
and we aren’t sure what is causing it other than some vague dark magic. That
isn’t stopping any of us from taking the mission, is it?”
His companions looked at one another and their surprised expressions
acknowledged that he had made a good point. “Fair enough,” Jazai began, his
face pulled into a thoughtful frown, “but that’s different. For one thing,
Wulfsun will be with us and he—”
“We’ve hoped to not be followed by an elder Templar while on a
mission,” Devol countered before he could finish. He seemed a little bored as
he began to do a handstand on the railing, “Unless you were more
comfortable facing those flayers and that giant creature in Rouxwoods
because you thought we had backup.”
This also surprised the other two, who realized that perhaps they had
suspected, albeit not consciously. If anything, Devol would probably have
been the only one, at least on the first mission, who truly believed they were
alone, even if Asla and Jazai only vaguely thought of it in the back of their
minds.
“That’s quite astute of you Devol,” she responded.
“Thanks, but I’m not trying to discourage you at all.” He raised one hand
and balanced on the other. “I’m glad Wulfsun is coming with us, both
because I want to see him in action and I take it as a sign that they are putting
their trust in us. If I joined the guard, I would be under the supervision and
the orders of others for years, even decades. We’re undertaking a mission that
requires a Templar of Wulfsun’s ability to be at the head. That’s exciting,
right?”
“From your point of view, certainly,” Jazai remarked with a casual grin.
“But I get you. It strokes the ego if you think of it like that.”
“I’m curious, Devol.” Asla went into a handstand to mimic him. “What
do you hope to gain by competing in the trials? As mistress Nauru said, you
can earn a place in the Templar in time. If it is your path—and similar to
mine—to aid them, aren’t the trials superfluous?”
“Not at all,” he said confidently. “It allows me to do more so much faster.
And there are those missions I can do with only one of those markers. I see it
as a challenge.” He placed both hands on the rail and flipped off to land on
his feet. “People keep saying I’m gifted and all that but I’ve heard of gifted
recruits in the guard and army. Some simply live a normal life and those who
truly stand out show they are gifted by accomplishing things few others can. I
suppose if I want to prove not only myself right but also everyone else who
believes in me, I need to do something similar.”
His words left his friends speechless. Asla climbed off the railing as he
put his hand out in a similar gesture to the first time the three had stood on
this balcony. He gave them a reassuring smile as they held their hands out
and placed them on top of his and returned his smile. The moment lasted
mere seconds before they departed and headed to bed. Jazai and Asla might
still have doubts, but they now felt similar to Devol. They merely had
something else to accomplish first.
 C H A P T E R T W E LV E

“All right, lads and lassie! Rub that sleepy dust out of yer eyes. It’s time to
get this mission underway,” Wulfsun shouted from across the bridge as Jazai,
Devol, and Asla wandered out of the gate. Beside him stood Nauru, Vaust,
Freki, and Rogo, surprisingly enough, who waved eagerly at them.
“Morning you three.” He greeted them warmly and Devol noticed his
second, lower pair of arms cradled a bundle of something wrapped in cloth.
“I got word you guys were heading out on a big mission led by none other
than the illustrious Captain Wulfsun.”
Vaust shook his head as he tapped the large Templar’s chest plate. “There
are a number of things I would call Wulfsun but I’m certain illustrious is not
one of them.”
“Ah, come off it, Vaust. He’s only telling it like his heart feels,” Wulfsun
boasted, clearly delighted by Rogo’s proclamations. “But moving on from me
for a moment. Rogo the smithy here has fashioned a few little trinkets for
ya.”
“Trinkets?” Asla asked and looked at the bundle with interest.
“Something with runes?”
Rogo waved one of his larger hands. “Nah, that’s not my expertise at the
moment but I am rather good with majestics. I’ve been working on these
since your first mission and thought it would be good to give you guys some
options in the field just in case.”
He unwrapped the bundle and approached the young wildkin. “First for
you, dear Asla.” He withdrew a miniature crossbow with strips on the bottom
that he undid to bind them to her gauntlet. “This should give you ranged
options. I know you are fast but sometimes, merely shooting things is
smarter, you know?” He produced a pouch, handed it to her, and pointed at
his waist. “There is about a dozen bolts in there and you can load up to three
in the crossbow at once. The enchantment on the weapon lets you control the
trajectory of any arrow you fire from it after its shot but only temporarily.
The arrows have a little cobalt dust on them, which empowers them to punch
through other missiles and even weaker spells.”
Asla nodded as she examined the crossbow. “I like this,” she told him
with a soft smile. “Thank you, smithy. I will make sure to care for it.”
“Not a problem.” Rogo smiled, turned to Jazai, and retrieved a rather
intricate piece of jewelry. Five silver rings were chained together by their
sides to form a single item and he handed it to Jazai and motioned for him to
put it on. “I had help from the dwarves with this one. They are better at
handling magic in crafting,” he explained and pointed at the ring on the boy’s
middle finger. “You can bind cantrips onto each of the rings. Then, you only
have to point and send a trickle of mana into that ring and the stored spells
will activate.”
“Truly?” Jazai marveled at the trinket. “That’s quite handy. I’m glad Zier
isn’t around. He would probably say that gets in the way of me learning to
use the spells without incantations.”
“Ah, you’ll have time to train for that, but you’re heading out into the
field now,” Rogo exclaimed and tapped the rings again. “The dwarves told
me you need to form the spell around one of the rings but not cast it. This
binds it to the ring for you with the power you grant it.”
“I see.” The diviner focused on his pointer finger and exhaled a slow
breath as he mumbled something. The ring glowed momentarily with his blue
mana before a rune in the shape of an explosion appeared. “It’s a missile
cantrip,” he explained and pointed to a rock. The ring flashed and two fist-
sized missiles launched, streaked into the rock, and destroyed it. Jazai nodded
with a satisfied grin. “Much appreciated Rogo. I can certainly get some use
out of this.”
“My pleasure,” the smithy said with a thumbs-up. “But remember that
you have to reset the spell after each use.” He pointed to the ring and the
diviner noticed that the sigil had gone. “Think of it like bullets in a gun. You
gotta reload.” The boy nodded in understanding as Rogo walked closer to
Devol and studied him for a moment. “You were an interesting one to craft
for, I gotta say, buddy.”
“I was?” Devol tried to peek inside the cloth. “What did you end up
making?”
“Well, I first considered something long-range like Asla’s crossbow, but
that didn’t seem practical given the size of your sword and all.” Rogo slid his
hand into the folds of the cloth. “I’ve been watching you train. You can do
some spiffy things with that majestic but it doesn’t look like you’ve mastered
it quite yet.”
The young swordsman sighed and nodded. “I can do a few things but that
is about right.”
Rogo patted him on the shoulder. “Buck up, buddy. I’m sure you’re at the
cusp. But it made me think. You should still have a trick or two up your
sleeve you can rely on for now so…” He pulled his hand out of the cloth to
reveal a dagger in a small sheath. The grip was black with a cobalt pommel
and a few odd etchings in a ring around it. “I fashioned this little beauty.”
He handed it to Devol, who unsheathed the dagger. The blade was made
from truesilver, said to be one of the materials that could withstand magic
and wound some rare beasts. It gleamed even in the dim light and displayed a
clear reflection of his face. “It’s beautiful, Rogo,” he said, amazed. When he
clenched his hand around the grip, some of his mana pooled into the cobalt.
“What the—”
The smithy chuckled, took the blade in his fingers, and lifted it. He tossed
it several meters away where it dug into a rock. The boy looked at him
incredulously before he began to walk forward to retrieve it, but Rogo
stopped him when he caught hold of his jacket.
“Ah, hold on a moment,” he said and wagged his finger. “You didn’t
think I gave you a regular dagger, did you? This is a two-for-one. It’ll help
with close-quarters battles, but try to reach out for it and connect with the
mana in the cobalt.”
Devol extended his hand and used vello to snatch the handle of the blade
before he was somehow dragged over to it. “Whoa!” he exclaimed from
where he appeared next to the dagger and pulled it from the stone. “It lets me
blink?”
“It’s faster than blinking,” Rogo proclaimed and smiled at Jazai. “At least
for most people. That cobalt has your mana tucked into it, so you merely
need to call to it and you’ll appear next to the dagger. Nothing can stop ya.”
He tossed the empty cloth over his shoulder and clapped briskly “That was
probably the trickiest to complete. Macha helped with it—oh, speaking of
which, when you guys return, she wants to see you all and get you outfitted
with proper armor.”
The three young magi looked at their garb. Beyond some light chainmail
Devol wore under his jacket, none of them exactly had armor to speak of.
“I am grateful but I am not sure if that would work for me,” Asla
responded cautiously and shifted her feet a little. “I prefer to be light so
running isn’t hindered.”
“Yeah, me too. Being weighed down can lead to complications with some
spells,” Jazai agreed and looked at Rogo. “Like blinking.”
“Not a problem,” the smithy assured them with a smug grin. “Macha
knows something as basic as that. You merely have to work with her and
she’ll fashion something that will keep you protected and that’s to your
personal tastes.”
“That sounds great.” Devol nodded enthusiastically, flipped the dagger,
and tossed it at a point close to the smithy’s feet before he warped to it and
took one of his hands. “It’s much appreciated, Rogo.”
“Eh, don’t mention it. This is what I do, after all,” Rogo stated and shook
his hand. Devol picked the dagger up and sheathed it before he attached it to
his belt as he and the others joined Wulfsun.
“All right. Are we heading to Fairwind?” Devol asked.
“Fairwind?” Nauru asked. “Why would you start there?”
“Isn’t that the closest anchor to Monleans?” he responded and recalled his
adventures on his journey to the order. “That’s where the map led me.”
The grand mistress smiled gently, turned to the large rock filled with
various portal runes, and pointed to one near the middle. “The map you used
was a little old. It is true we unfortunately lost an anchor point near Monleans
a few decades ago, but we wouldn’t let it remain dormant forever.” The rune
activated and a portal opened to reveal lands very familiar to him beyond the
gate.
For once, he felt peeved although still slightly elated at the familiar sight.
“Honestly, I wish I had known about that before I came here.”
“Think about the memories you made along the way, not the
inconvenience.” Nauru laughed, stepped to the side, and ushered them
through. “Be safe, all of you. They are in your hands, Wulfsun.”
“And they will be very safe with me,” the captain declared, picked a large
knapsack up, and stepped toward the portal. “All right, you three. The real
adventure begins now.”
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Devol exited the gateway onto a field of wavy green grass and ran forward
until he had to stop on the edge of a ridge. His home stretched before him,
bounded by longstanding marble walls, spires, and towers that surrounded the
central castle. The large structure gleamed as the sunlight caught the jewels
and stained glass windows that displayed moments in the history of the
kingdom of Renaissance. He was a little surprised that it was so visible even
as far away as he was.
After being gone for so long, it was probably the first time he was ever
truly amazed by Monleans, the capital of the kingdom.
A sharp whistle sounded behind him as Jazai approached and stared at the
panorama with him. “Man, it’s been a while since I was last here.”
“So you’ve come through before?” the swordsman inquired and his
teammate nodded.
“Yeah, a long time ago with my father.” The diviner smiled. “I could
barely handle cantrips then. I was very young.”
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” he remarked and smiled again at the city in
the distance. “You know, Jazai, I don’t think you’ve talked much about your
childhood and where you came from.”
The boy shrugged. “Well, I moved around often so have many different
stories. But I was raised in Quealva for the most part.” He pointed behind
them to Asla and Wulfsun. “But that’s something for later, don’t you think?
You’re the guide again this time since you know the area best.”
“Not a problem.” He turned and waved at the others. “Come on, guys. I
know the fastest entrance into the city so it shouldn’t take any time at all.” He
bounded off the hill and used a little vis to cushion his fall before he raced on
across the plain.
“The lad is mighty excited.” Wulfsun laughed and stroked his beard as he
absorbed the sight of the city. “It’s best to not lag too far behind. The process
to enter the city can be time-consuming.” With that, he leapt off the ridge and
pursued the swordsman as he yelled at him to slow down.
“Process?” Jazai checked his robes before he took out a small blue book
and opened it to reveal his identification papers. He sighed with relief. “So
Zier did slip it to me. I would have forgotten, which is dumb of me given that
I should be used to this.” He looked at Asla’s comically large travel bag and
smiled. “I’m sure Freki put your papers in there somewhere?”
She sighed and nodded. “It’s in the lower left pocket. He gave me a
thorough explanation,” she admitted and hoisted the backpack. “Well then,
let us go.” With a flare of mana, she bounded off the ridge and caught up to
the other two quickly. The diviner put his book away and blinked after them.

Fortunately, Devol’s knowledge and possibly his position as the son of a

guard captain was indeed a big help as the small team was able to enter the
capital with little effort. As they proceeded, the boy pointed out the sights,
from a watch tower that was said to be the place where a great general
directed the Monleans army from during an attempted invasion a couple of
centuries before, to the garden district that was favored by many magi as a
relaxing area to study their practices. He then took them through the
Monleans’ trade market, the biggest in all the kingdom. It was there, as he
showed them some of the fashionable wear in the capital, that a familiar voice
called to him.
“I know that tenor,” Devol said with a smirk as he looked around and
waved at an approaching figure in white-and-gold armor. “Captain Castiel!”
The others noticed a rather young man with long blond hair and fair skin
and an inviting smile who waved in response. He approached them quickly
and placed his hands on his waist as his smile widened. “I thought it was you,
Devol. It’s good to see you back,” the guard captain said cheerfully. “Were
you ever able to find the Templar Order you set off for?”
He gave him a playful frown. “Do you think I’ve been running in circles
these last few months?”
 “It’s a possibility,” Castiel retorted with a wry grin that took any possible
sting out of the words. “You’ve always been more gung-ho than thoughtful in
my experience.”
“Well, you should have a little more faith, good sir!” he chided as he
placed a hand on Jazai and Asla’s shoulders. “These are my friends, Jazai and
Asla. They are recruits in the Templar Order like me.”
“A recruit?” Castiel asked, momentarily astonished. “And here I thought
you were dead set on being a guardsman.”
“I did too if I’m honest,” Devol admitted and pointed at Wulfsun. “But I
think I can do more as a Templar. This is Captain Wulfsun. He’ll be my
mentor.”
“You might want to hold off on that declaration for a wee while longer,
lad,” the man chided but he chuckled as he extended a massive hand toward
Castiel. “A pleasure. I’m Baioh Wulfsun of the Templar Order.”
Castiel took his hand and studied him with a mixture of surprise and awe.
“Baioh Wulfsun? I never thought I would ever meet you. My mother has told
me stories of you.”
“Your mother?” the large man questioned, his eyes wide with confusion
and a trace of concern. “Who would that be, Captain?”
“Corrin Gale. She told me stories of her time in the Templar,” the guard
revealed.
“Corrin!” Wulfsun shouted and caught the attention of several people
around them. “Then yer her son? My word. Has it been so long that you’ve
grown up to be a guard captain, no less?”
The younger man grinned and nodded as he reached behind him. “Indeed.
If you would like more proof…” He withdrew what appeared to be a lamp, a
winding metal cage of gold where a glowing orb hovered in the middle. “She
passed this down to me.”
Wulfsun was taken aback when he saw the guard captain’s majestic.
“Fyrehart. Well, I’ll be…” he said wistfully. “I never thought I would see it
in action again. It’s good to see it still fulfilling a duty.”
“I always try to make her proud, sir, and her comrades as well,” Castiel
replied and put the lantern away. “She always speaks fondly of her time in
the order.”
“Aye, she was always warmer than any hearth for us, especially during
the dangerous missions,” Wulfsun said with a smile. “When she left to have
you, we all missed her greatly. But given the kinds of things we have to deal
with, it was better that she cut all ties and started anew. Although I suppose if
she’s passing stories along, we haven’t completely faded from her heart.”
The guard captain shook his head and his eyes seemed a little misty. “Not
at all, sir. I wish I could take you to her but she moved to Britana a couple of
years ago. She said she missed the air there.”
The Templar nodded knowingly. “Aye, I was rather surprised to hear
she’d decided to settle in Monleans, but I guess going to her homeland right
away would have been something of a tip-off. Why didn’t you go with her,
lad?”
Castiel shrugged and looked at Devol. “Well, while Britana is her home,
this is mine. Once she passed her majestic on to me…well, I was fast-tracked
into the captain position. I couldn’t leave my people.”
“I’m glad you stayed, Castiel,” the young swordsman interjected. “Things
would be much less fun without you.”
The captain chuckled and nodded. “I do have to admit, it’s been
somewhat dull without you to chase around. So are you coming to visit?”
“I’m on a mission,” the boy revealed and glanced at his teammates who
looked questioningly at him “Uh…we’re on a mission. But I want to say hi to
my parents while we are here. Is Father on duty today?”
Castiel shook his head. “It’s a day off for him. Unless he had plans today,
he should be home with your mother.”
“Good, then let’s go there now.” Devol beckoned excitedly to the others.
“It was good to see you, Castiel.”
“Don’t be a stranger if you come through again, Devol,” the guard
captain shouted and waved as the small group began to head to the Alouest
abode. Castiel looked at Wulfsun. “It was an honor to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise, young Gale,” the Templar replied and nodded in the direction
of the lantern. “She shines with you. Fyrehart can be picky and it’s not only
genetics that can let one wield a majestic.”
“Thank you, sir.” The younger man fidgeted slightly. “Although there is
one thing, sir—two, in fact.”
“Go ahead, lad.”
“Do look after Devol. He can be rambunctious and perhaps a little
childish, but he has a good heart and strong sword arm.”
Wulfsun snickered. “Trust me, I’ve seen that.”
“And the other…” He looked around warily. “I’m sorry to bring this up
but do be careful about the Templar signifier. Monleans has a better history
with the order than most, but there are still those around who are…spiteful.”
He looked a little worried and like he hoped he did not offend.
Wulfsun gave him an easy smile and a nod. “Don’t worry, lad, I know the
score. But I appreciate the concern.”
“Come on, Wulfsun!” Devol shouted over the noise of the crowd.
“I’m coming!” he responded and nodded at the guard captain. “And don’t
worry about the boy. I’ve seen what he can do and who he is,” he stated with
confidence. “And between you and me, he may be one who helps to restore
the order to a place of respect all over the realms.”
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Devol’s home was rather quaint. It stood a couple of stories high on the
outskirts of the city center. An effusion of flowers and simple paintings
decorated the entrance and complemented the white, red, and pink
cobblestone structure that had large windows on both floors. The aroma of
something laced with honey cooking permeated the home and made the
group all realize they were suddenly surprisingly hungry despite eating
breakfast little more than an hour before.
The young swordsman walked up to the red front door and knocked
loudly. “Mother!” he shouted and knocked again. “Mother, Father—are you
home?”
“Well, if they were sleeping they aren’t now,” Jazai muttered. He paused
to examine one of the paintings of a cat sleeping under starlight. Asla studied
it with him over his shoulder.
“Devol?” A calm voice answered and caught the attention of the group.
“Devol!” The voice grew more excited and footsteps ran to the entrance. The
door was thrown open and a woman in a light blue dress stood in the
aperture, relief and adoration on her face. “It is you.”
“It is indeed,” the boy replied cheerfully as they embraced. The
spontaneous and genuine affection warmed the hearts of his companions.
When they separated, he pointed to his team. “Mother, I would like to
introduce you to some of the friends I’ve made in the Templars. This is Jazai,
a scholar.”
The diviner stepped forward and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,
ma’am.”
“This is my friend Asla. She’s one of the fastest magi I’ve ever seen,” he
announced and Asla’s ear twitched as she also bowed to her.
“It is nice to meet you. I hope we aren’t intruding.”
“Oh, not at all!” Devol’s mom assured her and extended a hand to the
young wildkin so she would raise her head. “You are so adorable. Please feel
welcome.”
“Thank you kindly,” Asla said and a small blush tinted her cheeks.
“And this”—Devol pointed to Wulfsun with a flourish—“is the man who
has been helping me train, Captain Wulfsun.”
“A captain! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Lilli Alouest.” She beamed
and bowed to the elder Templar. “My husband is also a captain of the guard
here in Monleans.”
“So I’ve heard. Your son has told us all about you,” Wulfsun replied.
“I’m sorry to drop in like this, but we’re on a mission that takes us through
the city and we wanted to give Devol an opportunity to come and see you.”
“Of course! It’s no trouble. I am baking for the week so there’s more than
enough food to go around. Come on in.” The group followed her inside. The
floors were a warm brown wood and she ushered them to a large rectangular
table, where each took a seat. “Victor, come down! We have company,” she
called up the stairs before she walked to the kitchen.
“We do? Who has come?” a strong voice asked as footsteps descended
the stairs. Devol’s father entered the room in a white shirt and black trousers.
His head was shaved clean but he had a large brown beard and thick
eyebrows. His green gaze darted to the table and settled on the young
swordsman, who waved at him with a smile.
Victor returned the smile, walked closer, and clasped the boy’s hand to
pull him into a hug. “It’s good to see you, son.” He ended the embrace as he
looked at the others. “Are these all your Templar friends?”
“A few. I have more back at the order,” the boy told him and pointed at
each one as he ran through the list. “Asla, Jazai, and Captain Wulfsun. That’s
the abridged version. I’ve introduced them three times now.”
“Three?” his father inquired as his mother entered with a basket of honey-
drizzled bread and an assortment of cheeses.
“We ran into Castiel in the market,” Devol explained as he broke one
long loaf and passed it to the others. “We’re on a mission but I wanted to
come and see you before we continue to Levirei.”
“A mission?” Victor asked as walked to a cabinet, selected a bottle of
wine, and took a jug of fruit juice out of the cooling box. He placed these on
the table, passed cups around, and uncorked the bottle before he offered some
to Wulfsun, who accepted with an enthusiastic nod. Devol poured juice for
Asla, Jazai, and himself.
“Yeah. We’re going to look into some disturbances in the area. It won’t
be a problem,” he added reassuringly. Jazai noted that he seemed to skirt
around the issue rather tactfully. “Hey, since I’m here, let me tell you more
details of what we’ve been doing together for the last few months.”
The young swordsman began to tell his parents selected stories of his
time in the order—the training, meeting new realmers, and snippets of
missions and quests that wouldn’t alarm them too much. His companions
began to feel more comfortable and added their recollections and tales. The
table was now full of honeyed bread, fruits, cheeses, and slices of thin meats
and they spent a couple of hours simply talking and getting to know one
another.
Jazai delighted in telling odd stories and amusing mishaps in the Templar
Order hall while Victor regaled them with similarly silly stories from the
guardsmen. Lilli and Asla spoke of the mana arts and Asla told tales of
wildkin lore and her people’s history. Wulfsun and Victor shared war stories
and memorable battles and both quickly earned the respect of the other.
Devol used this time to tell his friends more stories of his youth and his
father’s exploits as a guard captain and Jazai did the same of his father’s
travels. It was not until he unfastened his sword and placed it against the table
and the ethereal glow seeped through the covering cloth that there was a
sudden shift in his father’s jovial demeanor.
“So, Devol,” he began cautiously, rested his arms on the table, and
pointed at the sword, “were you able to find out much about that blade during
your stay with the Templars?”
“Hmm?” The boy swallowed a mouthful of cheese before he nodded.
“Oh, right. I guess I never mentioned that in the letters.”
“Are you serious?” Jazai muttered as he was about to take a bite of an
apple. “I would have thought that would be one of the first things you told
them about.”
“I guess I was still getting used to it. It’s not like I could tell them more
than what I knew, which wasn’t much,” Devol pointed out with a shrug and
looked at his mother. “But your hunch was right, mother. It is a majestic.”
Lilli’s joyful face fell somewhat and he recognized the look from the day
in the Emerald Forest when the sword had first appeared. She nodded.
“That’s good to know, Devol, but…it was more than a hunch.”
“What?” He looked at her in confusion. Victor and Wulfsun shared a look
of silent communication and the Templar nodded. Devon’s father returned
the nod and sighed in response.
“So you didn’t tell him?” he asked the other man.
Wulfson shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. “It didn’t seem
like our place to do so.”
The parents nodded and looked briefly at each other before they bowed to
the Templar captain. “That was thoughtful, thank you,” Lilli said quietly and
took the boy’s hand. “It should probably come from us.”
Everyone felt the mood shift immediately. Both of Devol’s parents
seemed rather tense and Victor gathered himself before he sighed heavily and
looked him in his eyes “Son, we should have been… We were aware of what
the sword was. And we knew why it appeared to you.”
“You did?” he asked, not so much shocked as curious. “Then why didn’t
you tell me right away?”
“We were hoping he would return to claim it since it…” Lilli began but
her words faltered. “That majestic is tied to you because it is half of the
majestic known as Achroma.”
“Achroma?” Devol looked at the sword. “So it does have a name.”
“It does, together with a long, many-storied history,” his father added.
“One that is still being written. As your mother said, that blade is tied to you,
Devol, because your father tied it to you.”
The young swordsman looked at him, his expression blank as he observed
Victor, whose eyes misted slightly along with Lilli’s. “Devol…the man who
holds the other half of that sword is your real father. We…we are your
guardians, not your parents.”
Jazai and Asla shifted uncomfortably and glanced at their friend. His
parents and Wulfsun kept their gazes fixed on him and awaited his reaction to
the beginnings of the truth. Would it be sorrow, utter shock, or anger? None
of these came, at least immediately.
Instead, Devol nodded, stretched with his other hand, and took a piece of
white and orange cheese. He looked at it for a moment before he took a small
bite as he simply nodded. “Yeah, I knew that.”
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The shocked and confused reaction did eventually come but from everyone
except Devol. “Wait—what?” Victor gasped, now out of his chair “You
knew?”
“Well, I had a good idea anyway, probably around the…ow, Mom! Your
nails are digging into my hand,” he cried. His mother was shaking with what
seemed to be a mixture of sadness, relief, and a trace of terrifying anger.
“You knew?” she demanded. The shimmering magenta of her mana
began to flare and the group noticed that several objects now hovered above
the table. Most concerning were the pointy ones. “And you didn’t say
anything?”
“For a while, it was only a theory,” Devol explained in hopes of calming
her but it didn’t help much. “It was when we were cleaning the house a
couple of years ago during the dawning moon, remember?”
“Calm yourself, Lilli,” Victor interjected. “Let the boy say his piece
before you kill him.”
“More assistance, Father, more,” Devol demanded and finally wrenched
his hand free. “I wasn’t trying to string you along but as I grew up, I began to
notice things.”
“Like what?” Lilli asked and folded her arms as she stared at her son
through long strands of hair.
“Well…first, we didn’t look that much alike,” he began and pointed at his
face. “We share a couple of things like nose and face shape, but my auburn
hair, my silver eyes…neither of you have either of those.”
“They could simply have been recessive traits,” Jazai pointed out and
Devol looked at him with honest anger.
 “Would you hold off for a while, please?” he asked and turned to the
adults. “But that time when we cleaned and I was going through crates in the
attic, I found an old book—a journal or something—and inside was a
picture.”
“A picture?” his mother asked and her mana paused enough that the
objects fell slowly onto the table. “What picture, Devol?”
He took a deep breath and relaxed slightly. “Here, I’ll go and find it.” He
stood quickly and dashed up the stairs, leaving the rest to look awkwardly at
one another.
“I am…sorry for that outburst,” Lilli apologized and straightened her
hair. “I usually have better mana control than that.”
“Ah, no need to worry,” Wulfsun stated with a casual wave.
“You have impressive vello control, all things considered,” Jazai
remarked and finally bit into the apple as Asla glared at him. A few thumps
issued from above before Devol raced down the stairs holding a dusty red
book and an old photograph.
“Here—it was this one.” He placed the photo in front of his parents. His
father picked it up and stared at it with his mother. The photo was faded but
the people in it could still be seen. One was a tall man with long auburn hair
who wore a dark cloak and slacks with a weapon wrapped in a silk cloth on
his back. The other was a woman with silver eyes and golden hair, who held
a small child with a small patch of dark-red hair similar to the man’s.
“This is…” Victor whispered and looked at the book on the desk. “This
must have been left by Elijah before he left.”
“I didn’t realize this was here.” Lilli sighed, took the photo, and looked
mournfully at the woman. “Joche.”
“When I saw those two in the photo, I realized I looked like both of
them,” Devol said quietly and folded his arms. “I didn’t start out thinking
they might be…the ones who bore me. Not until later.” He looked at the
sword. “Then, when everything happened with the majestic—Achroma—and
dad mentioned his Templar ‘friend,’ it put another piece into place. After
that, when I was on the journey to the Templar Order and everyone freaked
out when they saw me, the sword, and the insignia on the map—”
“Wait, boy, you knew?” Wulfsun asked and leaned forward.
“You don’t have the greatest poker faces,” he stated with a shrug. “Vaust
and Nauru made me think they knew whoever had the map, but you and the
others were a little too obvious.”
 The Templar captain sighed in irritation and ran a hand through his hair.
“You noticed that, eh? I thought you were a wee too wide-eyed to pay it
much mind.”
Jazai leaned closer to Asla. “Between this and last night, I’m beginning to
wonder if it is only a ruse on his part.”
She frowned but responded with a half-shrug. “I think you may not be
completely wrong in this case.”
“Did you have to add that last part?” The diviner sighed and took another
bite of the apple.
Victor looked at his son. “Devol, even if you were only suspicious, why
did you never bring it up?”
Devol stared at him for a moment, honestly baffled by the question as if
that had never occurred to him. “Does it matter?” he replied and all gazes
settled on him again. “As far as the majestic is concerned, sure, but my ‘real’
father? He isn’t that to me.” He walked around to take a seat in front of
Victor and Lilli. “Not to be ungrateful to them”—he gestured to the picture
—“but even if I did know they were my birth parents, they aren’t the ones
who raised me. You are.”
His father’s jaw clenched and his mother formed a smile, even with tears
in her eyes. She wrapped him suddenly in her arms and he reciprocated after
a moment of surprise. “Like I could think otherwise.”
Jazai and Asla smiled and when they heard a sniffle behind them, they
turned to see Wulfsun wiping his eye. “You are a softy under all that armor,
eh?” the diviner teased.
“Can it,” the man ordered gruffly, folded his arms, and stuck his chest
out.
Devol chuckled as he looked at the Templar and then at his parents.
“With that out of the way, there was something I wanted to ask you.” His
mother leaned back to look at him. “I’ve been training with Wulfsun and
others in the order but he was rather insistent that I get permission from the
two of you before he took me on as an apprentice. I wondered if we could
talk about that now.”
Victor drew a deep breath and nodded. “I see you’ve made your choice
then?” he asked.
The boy thought about it before he nodded softly. “I know it’s happened
fast, but I do feel I can do more with the Templars and they have been good
to me. I want to return that.”
 Lilli shook her head and giggled between her tearful sniffs. “To think I
was worried about you joining the guards,” she whispered and glanced at her
husband. “What do you think?”
Victor looked at Wulfsun, then at Devol. “It’s not unheard of for magi as
young as you to set off on your own, but I wish we’d had more warning,” he
admitted and his gaze drifted to the picture. “Elijah did what he thought was
best. He wanted you to have a real chance at a traditional life but you fell into
this anyway. Even with Achroma bound to you, you had to call out to it
first.” He nodded and grasped his son’s hand. “This is your call to answer,
son. If you wish to walk this path, we will support you however we can.”
Devol nodded, tightened his grip around his father’s hand, and looked at
Lilli. “Mother?”
She simply nodded and although her tears still fell, she gave him a silent
blessing, the most she could give at that moment.
Wulfsun stood, walked closer, and placed a hand on the boy's back. “I
promise to look after him and we have a portal near the city. He can visit any
time he wishes to.”
“Thank you,” Victor stated. The Templar nodded and left the family,
taking Jazai and Asla outside for a spell to allow mother, father, and son to
have a moment to themselves.
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The group spent the night at the Alouest abode. The following morning, after
a feast of a breakfast, they set out to one of the prides of Monleans, the
Renaissance Central Station. Even though they arrived fairly early in the
morning, the station was already bustling. Whistles and orders rang out as
adventurers, merchants, travelers, and many others hastily found their routes
and the right places to await their trains.
Devol looked at the black-and-gold archways that decorated the main
concourse. Several train lines were huddled under the main building which
had orange glass covering the ceiling that bathed the area in a sunny glow.
“This is one of our city’s masterpieces,” Victor said with pride. He was
now dressed in the white-and-gold armor of the city guard, and on both hips
were large curved blades with a grip in the middle that connected Glaives, his
unique exotic. “Only Britana has more travel than Renaissance, but we still
have the most elegant station in all the kingdoms.”
“Monleans had the first cobalt grid trains as I understand,” Wulfsun
remarked as he looked around the station. The Templar stood head and
shoulders above all others there.
“Indeed. They started to bring them in twelve years ago and most of the
cobalt furnace trains have been phased out already,” Victor added, so boastful
one would think he had a hand in inventing them.
“Here, Devol, take these.” Lilli insisted and handed her son two large
bags. “The blue one has extra food for the trip,” she explained. “And the
white one has clothes and other supplies for when you return to the order
hall.”
“I’ll be back, Mom, I promise!” he assured her and gave her another hug.
“Like Wulfsun said, I’m only a portal away now.”
“Is that our train?” Asla asked and pointed to one of the tracks. The group
turned as a large, sleek train pulled into the station. It was white with gold
trimming and white light streamed from under it as the mana transferred from
the cobalt engine in the train and connected it to the tracks.
There were no doors on the front. Instead, a man in a white suit and hat
teleported out and held a hand up as blue mana formed the word Levirei in
the air. “Train to Levirei! All aboard!” he shouted and finished his
declaration with a whistle as he began to march down the line. The group all
began to hurry forward along with dozens of others.
Devol produced his ticket and an official punched it to allow him onto the
transit area. The others did the same except for his parents, but thanks to his
father’s position, the man simply bowed and let them through to see their son
off.
He loaded his bags onto a cart, which was taken by a bellhop whom he
thanked with a few cobalt bits. As the cart was pushed away, he noticed a set
of odd figures in the distance. There were four of them and all wore dark
robes that shadowed their faces. They were dressed from head to foot in
black, but he noticed an odd curve to the fingers of their gloves and felt a
strange yet familiar presence from them. As he began to send mana into his
eyes, a hurrying merchant bumped into him and almost knocked them both
over.
“So sorry…not paying attention!” the man apologized and helped to
stabilize him. “It’s best to get on soon, young one. The train waits for no
one.” He stepped quickly on board and when the boy turned to look at the
figures again, they were gone.
“Last call for Levirei!” the conductor shouted as he passed through on his
way to the front of the train. He teleported inside once he reached his mark.
“We’d best get going,” Wulfsun said and Devol turned to confirm that
everyone was behind him. “Are the bags on board?”
He nodded absently. Although he wanted to mention the cloaked figures,
he did not know where they had gone and he decided he shouldn’t worry his
parents at this juncture. He gave his mom one last hug and shook his father’s
hand as he and the others climbed aboard. Their train car was decorated with
white carpet and similar orange glass above, which bathed the car in the same
warm glow as the station. He found his seat, lowered the window, and waved
to his parents as the train started. The car lifted slightly and he ducked inside
before it set off and he closed the window.
“So, are you excited, apprentice?” Wulfsun chortled as he chose a seat
across from the three and his bulk almost filled the row.
“Are you already calling me that?” Devol responded and folded his arms.
“So you’ve finally come around, eh?”
The Templar stroked his beard and regarded him with an unrepentant
look. “I never minded the idea at all. I merely wanted to make sure my ass
was covered,” he admitted and looked out the window as the fields of
Renaissance flew past. “In case Elijah does come back, it’s better to be safe.”
The boy frowned as he thought about that. “So, Elijah…you make him
sound like a rather stern man.”
Wulfsun hesitated for a moment before he shrugged. “He’s not exactly
the rowdy type at all, but he is a gentle soul normally. It’s merely best to not
annoy him.” He waved a large hand as if to dismiss the thoughts out of the
air. “That’s something you should still talk about with your parents. For now,
I’ll mark this as the official start of your apprenticeship. You’d best be
prepared.”
“Technically, you have been training him until now,” Asla pointed out.
“This is only…ceremonial, is it not?”
“Templars are big on ceremony.” Jazai chuckled. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Devol took a moment to look down the car from his seat. A stewardess
was checking on passengers but he did not see any signs of the figures he’d
noticed before.
“Is something wrong, lad?” Wulfsun asked, an eyebrow raised as he
looked curiously at the boy. “You seem anxious.”
Devol wondered whether he should bother or not. Perhaps he was being
paranoid. Before he could make his mind up, the Templar leaned forward.
“Being your mentor is more than only training, Devol. If you need
something, let me know.”
The man’s seriousness was rather disarming and he put his thoughts
together quickly. “A few minutes before we left, I saw these guys—four of
them—in dark robes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something
off about them.”
“Oh, good. It wasn’t only me then.” Jazai sighed. “I think they may have
been dark magi. It’s not technically illegal as long as they don’t use blood
magic or necromancy, but it's not exactly looked on favorably either.”
“Pot and kettle,” Wulfsun said as he stood. “I need to hit the head. If I run
into them, I’ll let you know. Or if you see them again, let me know.”
“Understood,” Devol confirmed with a nod.
“And start planning for when we get into the city,” the Templar ordered
as he slid out of his row. “When we get our boots on the ground, we need to
be ready.” With that, he left them and the train car and moved to the next one.
“Planning?” the young swordsman asked in bemusement and looked at
the others.
Asla was equally as puzzled. “I’m not sure what we can accomplish. He’s
the one with all the plans.”
“He’s probably trying to sound like a general or something,” Jazai
quipped as he stretched his arms before he slid them behind his head to rest.
“Welcome to being official Templar recruits.”

Wulfsun walked casually through another train car and passed one of the
restrooms. He had also caught a glimpse of the figures Devol had seen, and
his anima was always up. They were more than odd. There was something
foul about them. He knew they were aboard because he could feel them
although he couldn’t place them. The farther he moved down the train, the
more he could sense them, and the lingering unease strengthened to a
sickening aura.
He let a steward pass and both men gave the other a friendly nod. As soon
as the official had left, he tried to open the door to the next train car but it was
locked. He used a trickle of vis to force it open and grunted when the lock
cracked loudly. Quickly, he stepped through and shut the door. This car was
larger than the others—storage, most likely. He took a few more steps and
could now feel the foul magic all around him. The interior was dark with only
a few lights above and below to illuminate the space.
A rattle caught his attention a moment before something landed on the
floor. Wulfsun strode forward and unleashed his anima as the cloaked figures
emerged from the shadows. He stared intently at them but their hoods hid
their faces. “Are you taking a walk there, lads?” he asked.
One of the cloaked figures held a hand up. A tattooed rune on the palm lit
up and he braced for an attack. Instead, the rune created a thin field around
the car and everything immediately grew quiet.
 “A silence spell?” he asked and thumped his fists together. “So it’ll be an
exciting walk, will it?” The cloaked figures let their gloves slip off to reveal
gray, spotted skin and pointed nails. Two of them brandished jagged daggers.
“Oh, I see.” Wulfsun grinned and punched his fists together until the
knuckles cracked. “Quite exciting, then?”
 C H A P T E R S E V E NT E E N

The strangers attacked first. Those with only their claws lunged at the
Templar and swung the talons down as Wulfsun raised his gauntlets to block
them. A blast released as his majestic activated to coat his body in a hardened
mana shield. The barrier knocked them back and slowed the strikes of the
other attackers.
The Templar moved to the side. He had little room in the car to maneuver
but enough to let their attack slide past as he powered his fist into the back of
one man’s head and hurled him into the assailant behind him. The other
attempted to strike at his throat and he noticed a coating of liquid running
down the blade—poison, no doubt.
He was able to snatch the figure by the wrist. At least they appeared to be
smart enough to aim for the places that weren’t armored, but as he wrestled
with the dagger-wielding attacker, he was finally able to shake its hood off.
He recoiled instinctively when he understood why they had such a sickening
presence.
The assassin’s skin was gray and his eyes were lifeless with nothing but
yellowed corneas and no irises. It had the appearance of a male but had been
shaven bald and browless and its mouth was sewn shut. A dark spot between
its eyes allowed a small trickle of mana to seep out.
These were ghouls, corpses reanimated by magic and under someone’s
control. When the surprise wore off, the entity lifted a leg and drove it into
Wulfsun’s chest. Although it did no damage, the force was strong enough to
jostle him and make him take a step back. This weakened his hold and
allowed it to wrest its hand free. The Templar snarled as he tried to adjust to
this new reality of ghouls that could use vis. It was unusual, even in this
strange moment.
The being he had previously knocked back had begun to recover. It
focused on the Templar’s undefended back as its comrades began to descend
on their quarry. One of them raised a hand that formed ice around the
fingertips. Wulfsun could sense the ghoul behind him preparing to strike as
the three others moved toward him.
He straightened and lifted a leg as the creature in front of him fired an ice
lance and the assailant behind him prepared to stab its dagger into the back of
his neck. When he slammed his foot down, it activated his great barrier
around him. The ice lance struck it and broke apart, while the dagger met the
barrier and shattered. He balled a fist, turned, and dropped the shield as he
drove his fist into the chin of the ghoul behind him. The blow landed with a
sickening crack and launched the being into the roof of the train car. Its skull
was crushed by the impact with the metal and it fell heavily, and what little
mana was left within evaporated.
“Yer master must have not known who he was dealin’ with.” Wulfsun
snarled defiance, his voice almost a growl more akin to a beast than a man.
He turned to face the remaining assassins. “Or perhaps I wasn’t your primary
target. You were after the kids.” The gauntlet on his right hand began to glow
with his yellow mana as he placed a hand atop his fist and held it firmly
while he concentrated his mana and anger. “No matter. There’s no use in
keeping you alive when you can’t even talk.”
The ghouls seemed to realize their impending doom and launched
themselves at the Templar in one last vain attempt to stop him. They only
rushed to their second deaths. Wulfsun swung his powered fist into the face
of the first one he could reach. The head exploded from the force of the
punch but when the hit connected, the mana stored in the gauntlet was
unleashed in a wave of force empowered by the mana.
It catapulted his three assailants across the car and shattered the doors
holding the cargo along the sides so the contents spilled out. The ghouls had
no control and the energy carried them like they were caught in the winds of
a cyclone. Only when they slammed into the other end of the car and their
forms broke against it did they finally stop.
They crumpled and the remnants of mana that maintained their bodies
dispersed into the air before it vanished, along with the silencing cantrip
surrounding the car. Wulfsun drew a breath and let his anima withdraw a
little. He shook his head when he realized he'd let himself get too hot, which
wasn’t smart in any battle. They might have been assassins but even if their
purpose was to try to kill the kids, they would not have made proper training
dummies given their ineptness.
He turned to look at the first ghoul he’d eliminated, knelt beside it, and
examined the hole in its head—or what remained of it. It must have been the
connection point where the controller of the macabre minions stored their
anima to give them life and bind them to them, but something seemed wrong.
Like he had thought earlier, this master of theirs must have been either
looking down on them or incompetent.
They needed to be close to have proper control of the ghouls without
sacrificing power, and given all the oddities of the beings like using cantrips
and vis, he had to deduce that these weren’t the ordinary shambling bodies he
was more accustomed to. As such, they needed a more powerful connection
than normal. The train car rattled slightly. Unless their controller was able to
keep up with the vehicle, sending them on board was a poor decision.
He closed his eyes and felt for mana in the air but discerned nothing
unusual. In fact, he and the three young ones seemed to be the most powerful
beings aboard at the moment, which meant it was unlikely the controller was
on the train themselves. He could have deduced that without much thought.
Vello was not his specialty like Vaust and Freki but someone controlling
ghouls like this would have stood out to him.
His thumb dug into something and he opened his eyes and recoiled when
the ghoul began to soften. Black liquid seeped from its body as it turned to
mush. Without the mana to keep its form together and the rigors it went
through, it was now dissolving in his hands. He looked at the others but they
had yet to start decomposing, although he had no doubt they would soon
follow.
Wulfsun looked around hastily. He had to get rid of them. There was no
need to cause an incident as the staff would probably already have issues to
deal with when they returned to this train car. He noticed a hatch above,
grasped the ladder on the side, and lowered it before he took hold of the
ghoul’s robes and dragged it with him. Quickly, he scrambled up, undid the
latch, and pushed the hatch open. He poked his head out.
They were passing through a forest now, which provided sufficient cover.
He manhandled the body through and hurled it out into the trees as hard as he
could, hoping no one in any of the cars behind could see as they drove past.
Working quickly, he dragged the other bodies up one at a time and disposed
of them in the same way. Although he was relieved to be rid of them, he was
somewhat annoyed that he had to throw potential leads away.
He shut the hatch and replaced the ladder. With a sigh, he stroked his
beard and he surveyed the car around him and all the luggage that had fallen
during the fight. Among the wreckage, he found one of the daggers but the
dark sludge had consumed it and melted it like the ghouls. He covered his
gauntlet in mana and crushed what remained of the blade. There should have
been another one somewhere there but he couldn’t locate it in the limited
time at his disposal.
With a baleful glance at the luggage scattered around the car, he sighed.
He certainly did not have the time to try to make this right. They would be
pulling into Levirei in about twenty to thirty minutes. Reluctantly, he turned
to the door and checked to see if anyone in the next car had noticed him
before he stepped through. It would be best to get back to the others and let
them know there might be a slight delay in getting their possessions once
they reached the city.
 C H A P T E R E I G HT E E N

As the train raced past the Arkalod Mountains, now only ten minutes from its
destination, a figure in a dark cloak and cowl grimaced and shattered the
mirror in his hands that he had used to watch his slaves fail. Salvo composed
himself, dusted the shards from his gloves, and made sure none had pierced
his hand. He sighed and wandered into the cave as he acknowledged that he’d
been too eager and sent the ghouls in too early.
If he had waited, perhaps the Templar would have returned to his car
rather than proceed farther. Or maybe he should positioned them around an
occupied car that might have at least given him pause. Then again, this one
seemed more feral than the mori so he might not have minded the collateral
damage.
He stopped a few steps into the cave and glanced at the three remaining
ghouls still seated motionlessly on the floor where he had left them.
Thoroughly disgruntled, he leaned against the wall and considered what he
should do next now that his plan had failed. A thought occurred to him, one
that should have been easy to answer but now eluded him. What was the
point of the preemptive attack in the first place?
Would he have been satisfied if the ghouls had killed the brats? In all
honesty, he would not mind if the Templar was dead, but that could have
caused complications. Perhaps the others would have given up on the mission
if their leader had been killed. That would have ruined everything.
So why had he done it? He felt there was something important—some
kind of edge he had overlooked. Perhaps it was not to kill the Templars but to
observe them? That sounded right. After all, it was not knowing about the
Templars’ powers that almost cost him last time, so why did it escape him?
He slid his hand to the box attached to his waist and tapped it absently. Was it
already getting to him?
Salvo shook his head and sighed, walked out of the cave, and observed
the sky. What did it matter if the plan failed? This would be better. All that
tricky, subterfuge crap was Koli’s specialty and why did he try to do this like
Koli? This was his mission and he would do it like he wanted to do it.
He looked at the tracks. The train would pull into the city any moment
now. There wasn’t much chance that he could reach them and strike while
they were sightseeing. It would probably cause satisfying chaos, but Levirei’s
guards were no joke and there were at least a dozen guilds in the city. He
wouldn’t last long, even if he abandoned the ghouls. Dammit, he might have
made the attempt if he had a team of the big ones, but he was left with the
freaks’ scraps.
His gaze was drawn away from the city to the east, where in the distance,
he could faintly see a dark patch of sky, something strange enough to make
someone suspicious. That was where they would eventually go and it seemed
the best place to intercept them or at least catch up. The ghouls weren’t as
fast as he was and a part of him knew he would want to be prepared this time,
even if he would not admit that to anyone.
When he snapped his fingers, his undead servants stood as one and
stalked behind him as he ran a hand over the dark box. The contents hummed
and he could hear it growl, wanting release. This time, he would be prepared
and nothing they could do would prepare them for it.

“Arriving in Levirei!” a conductor announced over the box speakers in the

cars. “Also, it appears there was a mishap in one of the luggage cars. We are
quickly righting this oddity but there may be a slight delay. Our deepest
apologies.”
“Did you hear that, Wulfsun?” Jazai chuckled and stretched as the train
slowed. “You bumbling around the luggage knocked their schedule off a
little. It’s not very professional.”
Devol shifted in his seat and glanced at the diviner with what he hoped
was sufficient warning for him to keep it down “You still haven’t told us
what happened when you left.”
 The large Templar shrugged. “I told you. I went looking for the guys in
robes, found them, and took care of them. What more do you need?”
“Well, you could have told us that was your plan,” the boy remarked as
the train came to a complete stop. “From what you told us, we could have
dealt with them.”
“I didn’t know that at the time.” The man pushed to his feet as the doors
to the train car opened. “Besides, it would have looked more suspicious with
all of us walking around.”
“At least we would have had something to do,” Jazai muttered and
straightened his jacket as he and the others stood to follow. “Seriously, what
kind of line was that? Planning for when we get to the city? You have all the
plans.”
“We could have at least helped to clean the mess you made,” Asla added.
“You’re gonna keep harpin’ on that, are ye?” Wulfsun sighed, ducked
through the smaller doorway so he could debark, and stretched his arms with
a yawn. “I cleaned up something far more disgusting than they would want to
deal with. It’s even, now go and wait for the bags and meet me at the exit.”
Devol and Asla nodded and moved to the luggage cart while Jazai shook
his head and followed. The first action on the trip and they didn’t see any of
it, the diviner thought morosely. When they reached the cart, the young
swordsman handed one of the attendants a ticket and they searched for their
bags. Asla tugged on his shirt and pointed to two conductors examining
something that looked like a dagger.
The three wandered closer and Asla asked what they were doing with her
dagger, which successfully confused them. Her two companions remained
relaxed with neutral expressions as she explained that it was an heirloom she
valued too much to ever leave home without it in her possession, although
she hardly ever used it. The conductors apologized, handed it to her, and
surmised that it must have fallen out of her luggage when everything
collapsed. They added that she needed to keep it hidden while in the city as it
could cause problems with the local guard.
She agreed and thanked them and the group remained silent as the two
men walked away to prepare the train. When they were far enough away to
not notice, the three friends studied the dagger. “It looks like the ones
Wulfsun said they attacked with,” Devol pointed out.
“Hopefully, it is. If not, we stole someone else’s,” Jazai responded and
ran his hand over the handle. “It’s enchanted, but not an exotic. The spell
makes it more durable and it loses its edge at a slower rate.”
Asla lifted it to her nose, sniffed it, and gasped. She moved it away and
wafted a hand around her nose. “It’s poisoned, although little remains. My
nose tells me it’s a mixture of black caps, vantalace, and death root.”
“That last one is no surprise.” Devol folded his arms. “I’m not sure if
there is a fatal poison that doesn’t use at least a little death root.”
“Most top-graded assassin recipes call for it but it doesn’t make it
plentiful, though,” Jazai commented and looked at Asla. “Liquid or powder?”
“Liquid. There isn’t enough residue for it to be powder, and it left…” She
looked around, picked up a small pebble, and rubbed the blade to bring up a
dark, inky gunk webbing. “Grime?”
“Baggage 1S!” an attendant called and startled Devol.
“That is us. I’ll be right back!” he stated as he jogged to the cart. “Head to
Wulfsun. I’ll catch up!”
“Got it!” Jazai shouted as he and Asla began to head out of the station.
She held the dagger by the handle, careful to avoid the blade. “Illusion,” he
whispered and distorted the weapon to look like a wand-shaped curio. “It
won’t last long but we won’t be stopped unless someone is watching us
closely.”
She nodded and slid it under her shawl. “That might be a possibility given
that assassins were sent after us.”
The diviner shrugged. “Agreed, but hey, that means we’re making our
way in the world now, right? People have to care if they are trying to kill us.”
The wildkin frowned but a small chuckle escaped as they proceeded
through the crowd. “That might be the most optimistic interpretation I’ve
ever heard you put on something.”
“It’s nice to potentially have fans out there, right?” Jazai quipped with a
devious smirk. “I only hope we get to meet them soon. I’d like to return the
favor.”
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Oy, over here!” Wulfsun shouted to Jazai and Asla from the western
archway. “I’m glad to see you finally. Where’s Devol?”
The diviner pointed to the train. “He offered to get the luggage. While we
were waiting, we found this.” Asla brought the knife out, still camouflaged as
the curio.
“A wand.” The Templar looked at them in confusion. “Are you collecting
souvenirs or something?”
Jazai chuckled, then muttered, “It seems simple tricks can work on
veterans as well.”
“Touch it,” Asla said and held it up handle-first so he wouldn’t brush
against the blade. The Templar touched the wand and frowned. “Metal—is
this one of those knives?”
“Most likely. A couple of the conductors found it in the luggage area,”
Jazai explained and motioned for the Templar to lower the item. “I’ll release
the illusion but keep it out of sight.” He snapped his fingers and the illusion
dropped and the wand transformed into the jagged blade.
Wulfsun nodded as soon as he had examined it. “No doubt about it, this is
one of the daggers those ghouls had on ʼem.” He frowned and resisted the
urge to run a finger over the blade. “I should have made sure I tossed them all
out, but the other one disappeared inside the goop.”
“I’m not sure if it tells us much.” Asla sighed. “It doesn’t appear unique
enough to give us any indication of what it could have been made of. Jazai
said it was enchanted, I suppose for durability or sharpness, and the poison
coating it is made of black caps, vantalace, and death root.”
Even though his hands were protected by his gauntlets, Wulfsun flinched
and made a disgusted face. “That’s the mixture for basilisk venom. It causes
your body to freeze before it eventually shuts down—nasty stuff.” He took
out one of the small pouches on his belt, opened it, and slid the knife in,
although the hilt still protruded a little. “Maybe our correspondent can tell us
about anyone who might have targeted the client and gotten us mixed up in
this. Otherwise, it seems the most likely reason behind this is these were
assassins sent by those who created the disturbance we’re investigating.”
“I’ll go with the second idea,” Jazai said quietly. “If someone wanted to
kill the count or lord or whoever hired us, there’s no reason to include us
unless they are simply spiteful.”
“I still don’t see how they would know who we are,” Asla continued. “I
would imagine the client received our details several hours ago. It seems too
short a short a time to discover our mission, make a plan, and find people to
try to assassinate us—unless they were expecting the Templars to send
someone.”
“Well, if they are using ghouls, they probably have enough bodies,”
Wulfsun reasoned before he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. That wasn’t
meant to be a pun or anything like that.”
Jazai shrugged again and tapped his foot. “What the hells is taking Devol
so long?”
“I’m here!” the swordsman shouted and followed it with a grunt of effort.
They all looked to where the boy struggled with several different bags and
satchels. They dangled from his back and arms and a smaller one was even
slung across his neck. “I forgot how much we brought.”
“You can push those two heavy doors in the order hall open but can’t
manage a few bags?” Jazai teased.
“It’s not the weight. They are awkward to carry,” Devol explained with a
faint frown. “Do you want to try to carry all of this?”
“Yeah, sure.” The diviner waved a hand and all the bags glowed with a
faint blue light. All but Devol’s bags elevated off him and moved to their
respective owners.
The swordsman’s frown deepened. “Show off,” he mumbled and
tightened his pack. “Next time, you’re the bag carrier.”
“It’s probably wise,” the other boy remarked with a smug grin and
glanced at their leader. “Are we off now?”
“Aye, to the Red Wolves Den,” Wulfsun stated. “It’s a tavern in the city
where we are meeting our contact.”
 “The lord?” Devol asked.
The Templar shook his head. “One of his bodyguards or something is
gonna meet us and give us a briefing before we head to the boss. It’s a safety
procedure.”
“Do they think the Templar would have reason to threaten his life?” Asla
asked as the group began to walk down the large flight of stairs to the bottom
of the station and onto the road to the interior of the city.
“Nah. Many may not be thrilled with us but I don’t think most believe us
to be malicious, merely fools at worst,” Wulfsun stated. “Not this fellow,
though. Still, people in his position can be paranoid. It could be there are
some who have targeted him and he merely wants to cover his bases.”
“How will we recognize the contact?” Devol asked.
The Templar felt in one of his satchels and retrieved a golden coin with
the Templar insignia. “She’s holding a table for us in a private room. When
we arrive, we show her this coin to prove we are the Templars her lord sent
for.”
The boy nodded and shifted his gaze to take in the sight of Levirei. It was
not the size of Monleans but it was still a large, beautiful city. The central
spires of the council building gleamed under the sunlight and the sun inched
closer to the mountains in the distance. It would be dark soon and by that
time, they might be in battle. He placed a hand on the hilt of his majestic.
Even if he had an idea of what they were going against, they still had no real
clue where it came from and what it was. That would not change his mind
now, but as they drew closer to facing it, anxious anticipation began to gnaw
at him.

Wulfsun opened the door to the Red Wolves Den, where they were greeted
by the sight of large tables around which tradesmen, adventurers, and guards
drank and dined, talking amongst each other. Lit dark metal chandeliers
swung above. The group was dressed and armed better than most of the
patrons there and so turned a few heads, but the one who drew most of the
attention was the giant armored Templar who strode through, looking around
for assistance.
“Welcome to Red Wolves,” a barkeep shouted they turned to approach
him. “What can I get you, sir? No alcohol for the young ones.”
“Well, there goes my evening,” Jazai quipped quietly and drew a chuckle
from Devol.
Wulfsun leaned over the bar and his large arms almost slid off. “I’m
looking for…Farah Malik. She should have a private room waiting for us.”
The man nodded and beckoned to a hovering waitress. “Indeed. She got
here a while ago. Follow Abby. She’ll take you to the room.”
“This way, sir,” the short, blonde woman called to them over the loud
conversations. Wulfsun nodded and gestured for the others to follow. They
ascended the stairs of the tavern and walked into a short hall, where two
guards stood watch and turned their heads to look at them.
“Good evening. This group is here for Ms. Malik.” Abby said and
motioned to the team.
“Identification?” one of the guards asked coldly as he turned fully toward
them to block their path. Wulfsun produced the coin and handed it to him. He
checked it carefully, then nodded at his comrade and Wulfsun. “She’s waiting
inside. Thank you for arriving on such short notice.”
“When weird things happen…well, it is our job to deal with them.” The
Templar chuckled, took the coin, and placed it securely in his satchel. The
other guard opened the door while the first one resumed his original position.
They let them pass and enter the room.
The interior was rather sparse but cozy with a nicer round table than those
below and a couple of paintings of Levirei hanging on the wall. On the table
were plates of meat, cheeses, and fruits, a large container of ale, and two
pitchers of different juices.
At the far side of the table sat a woman in a silver chest plate with a red
silk shirt beneath. She had white hair bound in a small ponytail, her skin was
tanned, and she had piercing hazel eyes with curved oil markings on the side.
Her chin rested on her hands as she studied the group when they all walked in
and took seats on the opposite side of the table.
“Farah Malik?” Wulfsun asked and placed a hand on his chest plate.
“Baio Wulfsun. I’m one of the captains of the Templar Order.” He raised a
hand to gesture toward Devol and his friends. “These are my soldiers, Devol,
Asla, and Jazai.”
“They seem quite young to be Templars,” Farah noted, her voice calm but
frank. “Or to be handling a mission such as this.”
“I have a feeling this will be a long discussion,” Asla muttered quietly,
almost to herself, but Devol caught it and nodded. He had the same feeling
himself.
“They are young but they have proven themselves skilled enough to be
here,” Wulfsun replied, his tone firm. “Besides, what your lord is paying for
is me.”
The woman nodded. “I’ll take you at your word, Captain. I can see they
all have majestics so they have to be skilled enough to wield those, at least.”
“Do you have one?” Devol asked and looked curiously at her garb to see
if anything stood out.
She shook her head, reached under the table, and produced a sword in a
scabbard. “I do not but my exotic can stand up to any majestic.”
“I’m sure it can,” Jazai commented, reading his tome. He felt a glare from
Asla and turned to look at her. “What? I’m serious. According to her
memories, she has fought against majestics and won a couple of times too.”
“Are you reading my mind?” Farah asked with a sly smirk. “I suppose I
can’t be too upset. This can be considered your way of checking me.”
“That was the idea, yes,” the diviner replied with a sly smirk.
“I’ve dealt with diviners before so if you have what you need, let me take
a guess as to how to deal with that.” She flared her anima. It was yellow,
similar to Wulfson’s but a few shades paler.
Jazai raised an eyebrow and looked at his tome, now reading only her
current thoughts. His smirk disappeared as he pursed his lips at what he read,
then looked at her. “Well, that is unnecessarily hurtful.”
“But it is amusing.” Asla snickered as she read the tome over his
shoulder.
He moved the book away and scowled. “Would you mind your own
business?”
“Ha-ha! I like her wit,” Wulfsun declared, also reading the book as the
boy had moved it close to him when he tried to get it away from the wildkin.
“Oh, come on now!” Jazai sighed and the Templar snatched the book
from him.
“If you can serve it you should be able to take it, Jazai.” The man chortled
as he flipped the pages back. “Let’s see here…ah, I was right.” He pointed
toward the guard. “You are Osiran.”
“I am.” She nodded and put her sword down. “And before you ask, yes I
was born and raised there. I joined my lord’s employ after I assisted in
defeating a bandit raid during a visit. He offered me a better position and
pay.”
“Do you miss it?” Asla asked and her ears flattened slightly.
“Sometimes,” she responded casually. “I prefer the temperature here. You
grow accustomed to the dry climate in Osira but I was born in Rokati, which
is more tropical. The food is better there as well. We prefer more varied
spices than you do here in Renaissance.”
“We had some of our order headed to Osira,” Devol mentioned and a
metal hand slapped the back of his head which made him hit the table. “Ah!”
“It’s not the kind of thing you mention casually, boy!” Wulfsun folded his
arms in disapproval. “Well, now that it’s been mentioned, there has been a
sighting of something similar to what you described in your homeland.”
“I am aware of that,” Farah revealed, which surprised him. “I stay in
contact with some of my friends and associates in my clan. On top of that,
these…irregularities are popping up all over. We have been in contact with
other kingdoms and these dark spots have formed across the land. From what
I know, there is the one here in Levirei, one in Osira near Yastan, and one in
the kingdom of Kanako as well. Britana is probably the worst off. I’ve heard
that there are two there. I assume there are others in Soel, Fredom, and
Norvian as well but they have not informed us—or the capital hasn’t, at
least.”
“I see,” Wulfsun nodded. “Then we should probably get to work. If we
can find a way to destroy or shut down these ‘dark spots,’ I want to return to
tell my order so others can deal with them more efficiently.”
“Understood and well spoken.” She picked her sword up and pushed from
her chair. “Take whatever you wish from the table. We’ll go by carriage to
the council towers where Lord Maximillian awaits.”
“Maximillian?” Jazai asked and looked at his teammates. “Is that his last
name?”
“No, it is his first,” Farah said. “He prefers to use his first name and says
it shows that he is simply another one of the people.”
“But you still call him lord,” Asla noted.
“Yes, he prefers that as well.” Farah sighed and took a bite of one of the
cheeses as she moved to the door. “I should give you fair warning, My lord is
somewhat…eccentric.”
“Of course he is,” Wulfsun grumbled and snatched the flask of ale. “I
know these types and am probably gonna need this. Let’s go, you three.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y

“So you see, mister...” Lord Maximillian Torvel trailed off as a servant
poured another glassful of wine into a freakishly large goblet.
“Wulfsun, your lordship.” Wulfsun muttered something under his breath.
He tried his best to remain calm and composed and made a good show of it.
Devol intercepted irate glares from both Jazai and Asla at the casual
demeanor of this lord. Given the circumstances, one would think he would be
more earnest.
The man placed his feet on his desk and motioned to a chair in front of
him. “Yes, my apologies. It’s been such a busy last few days. I’m certainly
glad you accepted the offer I posted on behalf of the city.”
“On behalf of all the lords?” Devol asked. “I thought this was on behalf
of the military or the city itself.”
Maximillian raised an eyebrow in scorn. “Hmm… Oh yes, you are from
Monleans. Everything runs through the king and his cabinet. You see, my
dear boy, that is not how things are run here in Levirei. Although it is not
your fault that you don’t understand that.” He leaned forward and slipped his
hand inside the pocket of his jacket to retrieve a small box decorated in red
and yellow and adorned with symbols that looked like a serpent swallowing
its tail.
“My apologies,” Devol said because it seemed like the right thing to do.
He glanced at his friends. Asla merely shrugged and gave him a sorrowful
look while Jazai stared out the window and wondered if the seven stories to
the streets below were enough for him to successfully commit suicide. “In
that case, can you tell us why you were the one to post the mission?”
“He’s rather new to this, isn’t he?” Maximillian asked as he took a
rootstick from his ornate box and lit it. Violet smoke drifted slowly through
the air. “It is fine, however. In fact, it is rather delightful to see one so young
take up a cause and one born in our capital, no less. Did you know I’m
running for lordship of economics next year when Sera Equio retires?”
“I hope it works out for you,” Wulfsun replied with a small sigh. “But if
we could get back to the matter of these anomalies—”
“Yes, yes, of course. Very well,” Maximillian interrupted with a wave of
his hand. “I shall repeat myself, if only because my request is so important to
me and my legacy.” He took another drag and sip from his vices. “Give me a
moment. Every time I think about this travesty, I think I might lose my mind
and die.”
“I've learned I'm never that lucky,” Jazai mumbled as he studied the rings
on his fingers and peered at the number of guards in the room before he
sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. “Please take all the time you
need, even until the sun sets.”
Maximillian scoffed. “That's not for another hour and a half.”
“I'm sure he’s aware of that.” Devol forced himself to relax in the chair
provided. He took a moment to study the aristocrat in front of him.
Maximillian might have been insufferable as a person but as a lord, he fit the
part with his long blond hair, light in color to the point of being white almost
like Farah’s, a high brow, sunken cheeks, and plucked, narrow eyebrows atop
deep green eyes. The eyes had a rather obvious enchanting on them as they
had a sparkling glow and the shade would slowly lighten to a pleasant green
that reminded him of the trees of the Emerald Forest. They would then
darken to a shadowy jungle-green. His best guess was that he used these for
seduction and he wondered if he could ask if they worked at all and were
good for the job.
He was dressed in a closed long jacket decorated like his rootstick box—a
red body with golden trim and buttons. His slacks and heeled boots were both
solid black. It was difficult to make out the material in the dim light but given
the almost perfect fit and attention to the stitching, they must have cost more
than the entirety of Devol's wardrobe and more.
“Well, thank you for the offer but I seem to have miraculously composed
myself.” The lord straightened and rested his hands on the desk.
“Oh, joy,” Wulfsun muttered and took a quick drag of a cigar that one of
the servants had offered and he’d originally refused. “So, what is the short
version of the story?” The lord took a drink from his glass and moved the
bangs of his hair to uncover his face so he could stare bemusedly at the
Templar.
“It would seem that some of my...associates have not been forthcoming
about the current issues with regards to this dark spot near the city. In
particular, how so many people have gone missing and the odd shadow
creatures that constantly appear. Some of my personal guards and my more
astute personnel have patrolled and studied the area. The lord of the military
has increased the watch around the walls and sent a few more groups of
troops to guard the area and cut down any of the monstrosities that crawl out,
but even with the lady of academics bringing in scholars and magi to ward it,
there is no sign that it might dissipate or anything.”
He sighed dramatically. “At best, it seems to contain it to some extent.
We’ve lost many good people, both in disappearances and those who have
had some…mental difficulties in dealing with surveys into the area.
Naturally, this is upsetting the populace. So what we decided to do is bring
experts in from areas outside the city who have more…freedom to do what
they wish.”
The insinuation was not lost on Wulfsun but he ignored it. “You mean
people like the Templars?”
“We considered a number of guilds and experts, but I believe you are one
of the best suited for such things.” Maximillion smiled wryly before he
finished the last of his drink. “Normally, we would reach out to our guilds
here in Levirei or perhaps in the capital. But given that this mess is spreading
to other kingdoms and considering your unique skill set, I insisted that you be
hired.” He beckoned the servant with the wine bottle again and the man
stepped forward and filled the goblet with the last of the contents of the
bottle.
“And that is appreciated,” Wulfsun stated and folded his arms. “So some
of your people go missing and none of the usual tricks have worked in
dealing with this anomaly. Calling the Templar isn’t a bad course of action
but I’m curious about something, Lord Maximillian. With what we know, I
would guess this is shadow or blood magic of some kind. Wouldn’t the better
option be to contact a warlock guild? They deal with this type of problem as
well and would probably be cheaper.”
“Cheaper?” Jazai whispered to the others. “How much are they being
paid for this. Do we get a cut?”
“It’s a fair question,” Devol replied.
 “Not now, both of you,” Asla stated and watched the lord suspiciously as
they waited for his response.
“Mr. Wulfsun, I'm beginning to think you believe I have some kind of
ulterior motive in hiring your order or potentially think of me as an idiot,”
Maximillian replied, although a small smile crept onto his face. The Templar
tilted his head and waited for him to continue. “However, I am a gentleman
and I will not lie so yes, I have my suspicions about what this is and believe
the Templars are the best choice to deal with it.” He took a long drag and let
the smoke billow out as he spoke. “I hope you are not so cynical as to believe
running an empire must take no more than charisma and expensive taste
alone. So now that I know the general knowledge, let me interest you with a
personal theory.”
In the next moment, something happened that briefly knocked the
Templars out of their scornful attitude. The man’s demeanor changed. It
would not have seemed obvious to most but the small smile on his lips
became a wider, eerie grin although his body language revealed next to
nothing. Still, the haughty air of the lord seemed to vanish, his poise seemed
cold, and his shifting eyes seemed to change reflexively to their darker shade.
“Because I find something rather interesting about this anomaly and
potentially, there is much to gain from it as well.” His nonchalant tone
vanished and was replaced by a frosty tone, and the way he spoke made every
word sound like liquid pouring from his mouth. Farah, who had stood silently
beside him all this time, flinched slightly at his change in demeanor. “I
believe this anomaly is exactly that—an anomaly or an enigma, something
that shouldn’t be and we don’t yet truly understand.” He finished his drink
and placed the empty glass on the table. He settled his elbows on the desk,
intertwined his fingers, and rested his chin on them. “You Templars, as an
order, have more leniency than most. I wish to make use of that. From what I
understand, you are rather knowledgeable about particular items of…a cursed
disposition.”
Devol stared at him, surprised that he knew of malefics. And if he read
him right, if he knew of malefics and what they could do, he seemed to want
to use them.
“If I am right that something is channeling this power or even creating it,
I would like to have it in my possession. I know that is not in the mission
details themselves, but consider this a personal request to you. Should you be
interested, I can pay you quite—"
 “I can’t promise anything,” Wulfsun interrupted and his gaze fixed icily
on the lord. “I can’t say I know what you are getting at, but if something is
controlling this mess, it needs to be destroyed. Hells, from what I understand,
that may be the only way to stop this anomaly, dark spot, or whatever the
hells it is. We’re here to do exactly that, not get you a new trinket.”
The light from the office's windows dimmed as the sun fell slowly from
the sky and cast a dusky light on the group. The lord frowned briefly but
shrugged and leaned back. “I can certainly understand that. It’s a pity, but I
think it might have turned out to be a bother anyway.” He looked at the
group, noticed their majestics, and pointed them out. “Do you use them
well?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yes,” the Templar replied. “We will find out what this dark spot is and if
we can stop it, we will.”
Maximillian nodded and motioned to the woman beside him. “Farah shall
accompany you. She is highly skilled in swordsmanship and the use of light
magic. And, of course, if you feel the need to have backup, any of the
guardsman wearing red-and-gold armbands are under my employ. Simply tell
them to accompany you under my authority.”
“Again we appreciate it, but that second part won’t be necessary,”
Wulfsun stated and nodded at Farah. “Having light magic could be of use,
though.” She nodded in reply.
The lord leaned back in his chair and studied the group in a careless way.
“Then I wish you the best of luck. If you accept this mission, take the
carriage to the site. They already await you.” He placed a hand over his heart.
“Oh, and if you fail and sadly pass on from this world, I promise you a
beautiful funeral.” This earned mixed reactions in the room and Devol felt
more ill around this lord than at the possibility of facing the anomaly.
“What a kind gesture,” the Templar said gruffly, finished the cigar, and
stamped it out as he stood “Consider this my acceptance and again, that last
part won’t be needed.”
Maximillian raised his hands and clapped three times. A gray-haired,
white-suited servant or perhaps bodyguard given his size entered the office
quickly enough to indicate that he’d stood outside the door. He walked to
Maximillian's side and produced a small book—a journal, it seemed—and
handed it to Wulfsun, who began to flip through the pages. “Feel free to read
that whenever you please. It contains a few notes, pictures, and the like of
what we know so far. Do what you need to do but I do have a request.” The
Templar looked up from the book and raised an eyebrow. “If you do find
yourself overwhelmed, try to make it to the main site alive. Even if you
expire, we could probably learn much from the autopsy.”
“Are you joking?” Jazai’s growled tone was so low the man fortunately
didn’t hear him.
“We’ll keep it in mind, your lordship.” Their leader looked at the
youngsters. “You know the stakes now. Do you still wish to continue?”
The three friends nodded and stood close together. Wulfsun began to
walk out of the office and Devol turned to follow. “Oh, and you—the one
from Monleans!” Maximillian called. The boy turned to see he still wore his
chilly smile. “I hope I can have your vote next year. I hope to see you again.”
He merely nodded and hurried to catch up to the others. Honestly, he
hoped to never see this man again.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- O N E

The cobalt-fueled carriage hovered only a few inches above the road. They
had left the city of Levirei far behind them and the conveyance was taking
them to the dark spot site. Their arrival was only several minutes away.
Inside the carriage, the group examined the journal with the information
Maximillian’s employees had gathered thus far on the anomaly.
It provided minimal details, unfortunately. Almost anyone who ventured
inside—even protected by exotics, enchanted gear, and wards—would either
not return or came back mentally scarred. Their only communication seemed
to be yells and scattered mumblings of darkness and monsters. When they
had been healed or calmed, which usually took days, they could barely recall
anything from within the ebon space they had ventured into.
Devol looked at one of the photos, supposedly a sighting of one of the
creatures that had streamed out of the anomaly, but it merely looked like a
black blob gliding above the grasslands of Levirei.
“Those are useless.” Farah sighed. He looked at her and she offered him a
sketch. “These creatures don’t have a form unless you can see them using
anima. We even tried using cameras with enchanted film and glass infused
with traces of cobalt but it didn’t help much and those pictures are the best
we have. These sketches are slightly more accurate.”
He put the picture down and took the sketch. Jazai and Asla looked over
his shoulder. On the page was nothing more than a shadowy, human-shaped
being with little white dots for eyes and no discernible features. “This was the
best you could get?” the diviner asked.
“That’s what they look like to most people,” she explained. “At least that
is how I’ve seen them when I’ve patrolled. They aren’t particularly strong but
they are tenacious and direct physical attacks don’t do anything against them.
We’ve had strong guards attack with all manner of weapons, but unless they
use weapons enchanted with certain magics, like light, even if they do injure
the creatures, they simply reform themselves.”
“Abyssal fiends,” Wulfsun muttered and tossed another sketch onto the
small folding table in the center of the carriage.
“You do know of them, then?” Farah asked and her tone indicated
surprise and even a trace of hope. “What is an abyssal?”
“They are creatures formed using magic from the Abyss. It’s a realm that
most aren’t familiar with and has no real inhabitants like the other realms or
even much fauna. In fact, from what we have been able to tell in the order, it
might be nothing more than energy. This abyssal magic is similar to shadow
magic in that it can copy things and has a dark bent, but it does more than
simply copy. It is almost viscous when used and it seems to absorb—or more
accurately consume—whatever it touches. I’ve been on a couple of missions
into the realm. The topography, flora, and rocks all seem to be from different
realms and are combined somewhat haphazardly there with dark traces left
from the realm itself.”
“The Abyss?” Devol inquired. “Isn’t that where—ow!” He rubbed his
side where Jazai had elbowed him. The diviner focused on him and tried to
tell him to keep quiet but also nodded his head to give him a clue that he was
right. That was where the Templar imprisoned the malefics.
“Then if you are familiar with it, can you deal with it?” Farah asked.
Wulfsun nodded. “More than likely, this isn’t controlled by a single magi.
I’ve yet to meet one who can wield it properly as one would any other type of
magic. The reason these dark spots have been appearing all over is probably
due to a tear.”
“A tear?” Asla asked. “As in a tear between realms?”
“Aye. Someone tore a fissure open between our realm and that one.” The
Templar sighed and clenched his fist. “The dumb bastards. It would explain
why they are stuck in one place and simply grow outward. The magic is
slowly dripping into our realm as time goes on. It would also explain how
you can hold it off with certain wards for a while but eventually, the abyssal
magic will adapt or simply consume the wards and continue to expand.”
“We’ve had that happen already,” Farah admitted. “The size of the spot
was only around a hundred and fifty meters when we set the first wards up. It
remained that way for about a week before the wards disappeared and it
continued to grow. The scholars created more complex wards that halted the
expansion again.”
“And how long ago was that?” Wulfsun inquired.
“About ten days ago,” she revealed and turned to look out the window.
“We have another set of wards ready to go in case but they are the most
complex wards they can muster. Even if they stop the dark spot from growing
again, once those wards give out, there isn’t anything else we can do.” She
pointed out the window. “You can see it from here.”
The team peered in the direction she indicated. Over the next hill, a large
dome sprawled across the land, pitch-black like light could not escape it. It
stood tall and wide and was easily far bigger than the one hundred and fifty
meters Farah had said it was at one point.
“How long did it expand for once the first set of wards collapsed?” Jazai
asked.
“Only two days. Now, it measures at least four miles.” She grasped her
sword handle. “If this is a tear, we’ll have to venture into it and find it to shut
it, won’t we?”
Wulfsun nodded solemnly. “Aye, and it is probably in the center of the
blasted thing. This will certainly be a trip.” He pointed to the three young
magi. “If you have any food or drink, enjoy it now. Once we get inside,
almost anything without magic will be suspect.”
The three friends nodded, delved into their bags, and quickly devoured
whatever food they carried. The carriage continued its trek. They were only a
few minutes away and the abyssal dome loomed in front of them.

When they arrived, several guards surrounded the carriage quickly and only
relaxed when Farah was the first to disembark. Wulfsun followed, then Asla,
Jazai, and Devol, who hung onto the doorframe for a moment while he stared
at the dome. This close, it seemed like it was swallowing the sky. His gaze
settled on an archway that appeared to be made of cobalt with several
intricate runes and wards etched into it. He finally stepped off and followed
the others to where a group of scholars, guards, and soldiers waited.
“Captain Malik!” one of the guards exclaimed and saluted her. “I’m glad
to see you ma’am. Is this the Templar?”
 “It is, Haldt.” Farah nodded. “And these are his soldiers. We’re here to
deal with the anomaly.”
“His soldiers?” the guard asked and frowned as he studied the three
young people. “They seem rather young. Is he sure about this?”
“I am,” Wulfsun declared and all but bared his teeth at the guard. “They
can handle this and have chosen to come here. Fortunately for you, I know
how to deal with this accursed thing so if you would like us to get started on
that, I suggest you move out of our way.”
The guard, briefly taken aback, straightened quickly and nodded. “Y-yes,
sir. This way.”
“He knows how to deal with it?” one of the scholars asked another.
“Thank the Astrals. I had begun to fear what the possibilities would be if we
couldn’t contain it.”
“Nothing good,” the other scholar mumbled as the team passed them.
“We’ll have to ask him the specifics when they return.”
“If,” the first scholar replied.
Wulfsun shook his head. “Honestly, I would be more concerned if they
did know what this was,” he said, his tone low enough that he didn’t
broadcast it but the rest of the group could hear. “I’d hate to see what would
happen if enough fame-hungry scholars decided to play with the Abyss to
make a name for themselves.”
“It could be what happened here,” Farah pointed out as another scholar
approached her with a box. “Scholars can be rather inept when they get
impatient.”
“Yes, and what folly they bring,” Jazai muttered. “It’s not like they are
the ones typically responsible for discovering the full capabilities of magic or
anything.”
“Here you go, Ms. Malik.” the new arrival said and opened the box to
reveal several marbles. “These will take you back to the entrance once you
break them. It will require a little vis to do so. We had to use a special
container for the magic so we could apply small wards to defend them from
some of the…irregularities that happen within.”
“Thank you,” Farah stated, took the box, and turned to the others. “Take
one, each of you. As she said, these will teleport you back here in case
something goes wrong.”
“Or when we’re done with this mess,” Wulfsun added, took one of the
marbles, and stowed it in a pouch. He looked at the scholar. “Do you have
any idea where the center is?”
“Well, the dome stretches for a little more than four miles, so a couple of
miles heading north.” She pointed through the gate. “If the center of the dark
spot is where it started to grow, that would be in the bloodflower patch.”
“Bloodflowers?” Devol asked and looked at Asla.
“Yes, bloodflowers.” The scholar nodded. “We have one of the largest
fields of bloodflowers here in Renaissance and we use them in certain
ceremonies, such as—”
“There’s no need for a history lesson right now,” Farah snapped and
pointed to the archway. “Open the gate. We’re going to head in.”
“At once, Captain!” One of the guards nodded, motioned quickly to
several magi, and pointed at the gate.
“Are you sure we don’t need anyone else?” Farah asked and drew her
blade. “I’m certain a few would volunteer and many of the soldiers here are
also skilled magi.”
“Things can get tricky in the Abyss,” Wulfsun stated and punched one of
his gauntleted fists into the other. “Illusions, those abyssal fiends, not to
mention the way it twists and turns the terrain it consumes. It might seem like
a good idea to go in with an army but keeping the group small is for the best.
There is less of a chance of chaos resulting.”
“Very well.” She took a deep breath and nodded, and four magi began to
deactivate the wards around the gate. “Prepare yourselves. We will enter
now.”
Devol drew his majestic, Achroma, and activated his anima. Jazai and
Asla did the same, along with the Templar captain and Farah. As soon as the
gate opened, the group entered cautiously one behind the other.
As they passed the threshold, they were bombarded by the abyssal
energy. It began to swarm around them but Wulfsun activated his barrier and
pressed forward. “Keep your anima up and higher than normal,” he
instructed. “Your mana will adapt. Once we get into the guts of this we’ll be
in the clear.”
Achroma began to shine and Devol glanced at it and pressed on. He could
barely make out a clearing ahead. Without hesitation, he moved to the front
of the team and used the light to guide them. The abyssal magic pressed
down on him but a flash of light from his blade seemed to carve through it
until he stopped in an area surrounded by dark trees with blue leaves. “Is this
normal, Wulfsun?” he asked as he studied the twisted forest. He received no
response.
When he turned, no one stood behind him. His heartbeat raced for a
moment before he focused and calmed himself. Wulfsun had said there
would be tricks and the members of their team had probably been separated
by the barrage from the magics. He shouldn’t have pressed ahead. With a
shrug of resignation, he turned again and his gaze settled on some kind of
structure in the distance. It seemed like a logical destination and perhaps the
others saw it as well and would meet him there. For now, though, he was
alone with Achroma in this dark, foreboding realm.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-T WO

Asla heard a hoot above that sounded like the cry of an owl and it caught her
off guard. This was probably the first sign of life she had heard in this
unnatural world since they stepped inside the dome. She looked up with a
frown and squinted as she tried to find the source of the sound. Trees
surrounded her completely and although leafless, the tops seemed to bend
inward toward one another.
She scanned the sky beyond the twisted branches but found no signs of
any owl or birds in general. Her frown deepened until she recalled that
Wulfsun had said the abyssal magic would play tricks on them. She merely
had not expected them to be so banal. Tentatively, she took a couple of steps
forward and hoped she had not fallen too far behind, only to be greeted by a
black, muddy terrain and several pieces of bone with none of her team around
her.

“Hey, Jazai. Be sure to keep us informed about any of the big, bad illusions,
yeah?” Wulfsun called. “You are the scholar of the group, after all.” When he
heard no reply, he shrugged and looked back. “It might have been a bad joke
but you don’t have to…” his words faltered when he realized he was alone.
“How the hell did we get separated?” The Templar growled his
frustration and looked around for any signs of life. This could only be an
illusion, he decided. During his previous ventures into the Abyss, he had
never seen someone warped around the realm or anything similar. That said,
given the present situation, he honestly had no idea what this was capable of
in their world.
He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “They will be fine,” he
muttered and examined his surroundings. He stood in a ravine of some kind
and a wind whipped around him as he looked at the jagged rocks that blocked
the sight of the top of the dome. “They are skilled and have probably realized
the same thing I have. I am sure they can manage well until I get to them.”
The Templar released a small burst of mana to circle him and watched it
carefully to see if it passed through anything or anyone. It simply swirled
around him and didn’t connect to anything. If there were any human bodies
present, they somehow escaped detection.
“Is this only an illusion?” he asked, walked closer to one of the rock
walls, and placed his hand against it. While it certainly seemed real, it was
also unnaturally cold to the touch. It might indeed be an illusion but it
somehow used the terrain to enhance the division between them.
“I don’t think it is trying to kill us yet,” he reasoned, although he was not
exactly sure if the magic was sentient. It might merely be replicating what the
realm did. “This could also be it trying to pick us apart, though.”
Wulfsun charged his gauntlets, pounded them together, and launched a
blast of mana to shatter the rocks around him. He waited for the dust to settle
and scowled when he saw no distortion or opening in the area. This would, he
realized, be a pain.

“Well, this is unfortunate.” Jazai scanned the area in search of his team while
he tapped the side of his head in thought. “Illusion seems the most likely
explanation. I doubt everyone was teleported without me noticing. Cloaking
and silencing everyone else would also be possible, although I would have a
better guess if I knew more about what the hells this is.”
His attempt to identify the problem was interrupted by a bright light
several yards away. He spun, held his hand up, and readied the cantrip-
infused rings, but he was able to relax slightly when the light faded and Farah
appeared.
“Well, there is one of you at least.” He sighed and straightened, although
a thought occurred to him. “Assuming you are you of course. My guess is
that this is an illusion, so you could simply be another part of that.”
The guard captain frowned and strode toward him. He held his ringed
hand steady but waited for her—or potentially it—to do something. Rather
than answer or offer any kind of display of proof, she did nothing more than
raise her fist to rap him on his head.
“Gah! There are other ways of proving it, you know!” He yelped and
rubbed his forehead. “You have physical form, at least.”
“I’m real, young magi,” she stated with a sigh. “As are you. This is an
illusion and I had hoped to dispel it. It seems I was only able to break through
mine.”
Jazai’s hands lowered slowly and his gaze darted around as a hypothesis
began to form. “And are potentially caught in mine,” he said, his voice low.
Farah regarded him curiously, “Hmm? What do you mean?”
The young diviner retrieved his tome and flipped through its pages. “I
don’t think we were caught in a single large illusion. If we had been, your
plan might have worked. But my guess is that we are trapped in several
smaller ones so instead, you only found me. This would mean that we could
all be caught in separate illusions but there is a limit to what it can do,
otherwise you would have simply been sent to another personal trap.”
“I see,” she responded cautiously and looked at her sword. “So should I
keep trying to break through until we are all together again?”
Jazai finally found the page he was looking for and read it quickly before
he frowned and turned more pages. “We’ll consider it, but it is likely that
even if it worked, we would be trapped again deeper into the forest. I believe
this is meant to force us to waste our energy and magic. I’m not able to find
the others even using my majestic, which means their animas are hidden from
us.”
“What’s the purpose? To delay us?” Farah snorted in irritation. “It’s
almost petty if that’s the case. What makes you so sure?”
“I’m honestly not,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how this place works and
only have theories. But we aren’t being attacked and the illusion isn’t horrific
by any means, so it probably isn’t meant to…” A smile formed on his lips as
he tapped something in the book. “Man, it has been so long since I bothered
to use this. I guess Zier did have a good reason to teach it to me.”
“Teach what?” she asked. “Do you have a plan?”
“I’m guessing the magic isn’t ‘alive’ as such but is reacting to ours. In a
way, it is a mirror and only forms in certain ways when there is another
magic to react to.” He placed his palms together and bowed his head. “Which
hopefully means there aren’t illusions on top of illusions. Before you waste
considerable mana trying to hack through them all, let me test something.”
“What are you doing?” the captain questioned as his body began to
illuminate with blue light.
“I’ll be right back,” he stated and closed his eyes. “Watch over me for a
moment, all right?”
“What for?”
“Projection!” he shouted before his body began to slump and Farah
lunged to catch him.

With a swipe of her claws, Asla loosed another wave of her anima. Not much
seemed to change from the last time, however. For a brief moment, the
barrier around her fell but revealed only a slightly different alignment of
trees, these with actual foliage. She hadn’t caught sight of any of her
comrades thus far and the fruitless attempts had begun to tire her. If she
continued with these random blasts, she would drain her magic too quickly
and wouldn’t be able to keep this up.
“Asla?” Jazai called and she spun, surprised, and almost cut the forest
down before her gaze settled on her friend—or, at least, a blue image of him.
“What the hells? Jazai?” She gasped and studied the projection warily.
“It’s neat, right?” He waved his hands enthusiastically. “This cantrip
allows me to make a projection of myself using mana. It helps with a few
things but getting past illusions is what counts right now.”
“Illusions? Plural?” she asked.
“Indeed. It’s a pain, isn’t it?”
“Honestly, I wish you had chosen a nicer avatar to meet me with.” Asla
sighed and lowered her claws to her side. “Seeing you in this form is
somewhat unnerving.”
“Sorry, but a pigeon or puppy is not available to me,” he replied dryly. “It
naturally takes the form I’m most familiar with and isn’t an easy cantrip to
use in the first place. I’m merely lucky I’m a diviner so doing things like this
isn’t so taxing for me. I suppose I can try to change the form or would you
rather I used that time to help get you out of here?”
 “Huh. Yeah…uh, thanks. Getting out sounds more appealing,” she
admitted and looked away for a brief moment. “So what do you need from
me? I’ve attempted to break through but the illusion keeps reforming.”
“You may simply be slicing through different illusions,” Jazai told her.
“But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, we are separated but that
doesn’t mean we cannot interact. Farah should be able to use her magic to
disrupt the illusion. She already found me,” he explained. “I needed to get a
look at you and find out how these illusions are working here.” He extended a
glowing hand. “Give me a small trickle of your mana. This will enable me to
track you.”
Asla nodded and stretched her hand forward to direct a trickle of her
mana to him. It appeared as a small orange orb and sank into his hand. “All
right. Stay here. I’ll have Wulfsun do the same. With all your mana, I will be
able to pinpoint where everyone is and Farah can bring us together again.”
“Okay—but wait. Does that mean you already found Devol?” she asked.
Jazai shook his head. “I couldn’t find him, I think he pushed ahead so we
should probably hurry and regroup so we can go looking for him.”
The wildkin nodded furiously. “I understand, yes—go!” At that, the
diviner seemed to fade and she looked between the trees directly ahead of
her. She wondered if the other trees with the blue leaves she had seen were
perhaps in the area where Devol was.

The Templar launched another burst of mana but nothing gave beneath it. He
sighed and decided his best choice would probably be to press forward and
see if there was some kind of threshold or perimeter where the illusion
ceased.
“Wulfsun!” a familiar voice shouted. He looked quickly to where a
projection of Jazai floated toward him.
“Jazai?” he asked. “Are you using a projection? It’s a clever choice. I
assume it means this is definitely an illusion?”
“Mostly, it seems, but some of it is real.” The diviner held his hand out.
“Quick, give me a little of your mana. I already have some of Asla’s. Me and
Farah have a way to get through it.”
The man nodded. “All right, here tak—wait a minute.” He drew his hand
back. “How do I know this isn’t another part of the illusion?”
“Are you kidding me?” Jazai placed his hands against his body. “I’m
literally composed of my own mana. Can’t you sense it?”
“The Abyss is capable of all kinds of things,” he pointed out and raised
his eyebrow. “Do you have proof it is you?”
“I honestly don’t have the time to rattle off a list,” Jazai muttered and
extended his hand a little farther. “But what does it matter? You like to
gamble, so come on!”
Wulfsun snickered, sighed, and moved his hand toward him. “Well, I
guess it’s true. But hurry, will you?”
The diviner took his hand and drew some of his mana, and it formed a
yellow orb within him. “I’m sure your plan would have been so much faster.”
“Get going,” the Templar snapped and the boy shook his head reluctantly
and disappeared. The large man folded his arms and smiled for a brief
moment. The apprentice was proving his worth, as much of a pain as he
could be. He was certainly smart and gifted and deserved to be praised to his
father the next time Wulfsun saw the man.
A few minutes passed and he wondered if something had gone wrong. He
toyed with the idea of making another attempt, mainly to fill the time, but a
bright flash of light erupted in front of him. With a muttered curse, he
shielded his eyes but when it began to fade, he saw Asla, Jazai, and Farah
emerge from the brightness.
“There you are. Well done!” He grinned broadly as he walked to them.
“Now let’s—wait. Where’s Devol?”
“I couldn’t find him,” Jazai admitted. “He’s probably deeper in, which
means there is still one illusion left.”
“Well then, get to him,” the Templar ordered. “What? Did you need
permission?”
The diviner shook his head. “No, but I wanted to bring us together before
I set off. Besides, if he is farther in, we’ll need to get Farah closer.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “How far in do you think he is?”
“I don’t know but probably fairly deep.” Jazai rolled his shoulders. “So
while I search for him, I need you to do something.”
Wulfsun nodded. “Aye, what do you need?”
Jazai held his arms up and his expression revealed that he was not amused
by this request. “I need you to carry me.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-T H R E E

Devol placed one hand in the pocket of his pants and stared at the building. It
had the appearance of a sanctuary or temple. It was large—three stories tall—
and the roof and spires above seemed to have eroded considerably, which
suggested that it had been abandoned for years. Dark-blue lines pulsated
along the walls and to the left of the entrance, statues of what appeared to be
Samara and Finis, the Astrals of life and death, stood like silent sentinels.
“Hey, Devol!” The swordsman turned as what appeared to be a blue ghost
approached him. He readied his blade but the spirit stopped suddenly and
held its hands up. “Whoa—watch where you point that! A majestic can do
damage to me in this form.”
“Jazai?” He frowned and lowered his blade slightly. “What happened to
you?”
“This is a cantrip. I’m using it to cross the illusions,” the diviner
explained and paused to look curiously at the structure. “What is that?”
“I don’t know. It looks like a temple that might have been here before this
area was overtaken,” the swordsman reasoned. “I’d hoped we could all meet
here.”
“It’s not a bad plan, especially since I think you ended up on the correct
plane.” Jazai looked around and nodded. “This area isn’t as twisted as the
others, which means the rest of us might be the ones still in the illusion.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
Jazai hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed speculatively on his friend’s
sword. “Your majestic—try filling it with mana and releasing it behind me.”
Devol, while he had no idea what he tried to accomplish, obliged and
began to fill Achroma with his mana. The light within the blade brightened.
The diviner moved his projection hastily behind him as the swordsman
leaned back and swiped the weapon forward. The glowing blade sliced
through the trees but more importantly, it cut through the fog of darkness that
surrounded them.
“What in the hells?” Wulfsun cried as he and the others in the group
suddenly appeared in the distance when the fog dissipated.
“Wulfsun!” Devol shouted and waved at him to get his attention. “How
did you know that would work?” he asked the projection.
“I didn’t,” Jazai admitted. “But it seemed miraculous that you were the
only one to not be trapped in an illusion. I merely assumed that your majestic
played a part in that.”
“Achroma, huh?” He looked at the sword with a mixture of pride and
frustration. “I need to discover what it is capable of.”
“No kidding.” His friend floated away. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”
The projection drifted to Wulfsun and floated onto his back. Jazai, now in
his physical body, stretched his arms as the Templar dropped him casually.
The two argued briefly, but Asla hurried to the young swordsman. “Devol,
are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t have a chance to get
in any harm and haven’t come across anything other than these weird trees
and this temple.”
“Samara and Finis?” Farah noted, her gaze fixed on the statues as she
stopped behind Asla. “We don’t have any temples outside the city. By the
design, this looks like a temple you would see in Britana.”
“There are two abyssal spots there,” Devol stated and returned his
attention to the building, “If this magic ‘consumes’ things like Wulfsun said,
perhaps it is swapping elements from each of the spots somehow?”
“That would explain where the trees came from,” the guard captain
agreed and glanced over her shoulder. “And that rocky terrain we were in. I
couldn’t see the color of the stone, but it looked like some of the ravines you
might find in Soel.”
“It’s good to see you in one piece, Devol!” Wulfsun said as he and the
diviner caught up. “Jazai said it was you who dispelled the illusion.”
“It was my majestic,” he said and held the blade up. “It was Jazai’s idea. I
would never have thought to use it like that.”
“It’s probably best you start to,” his friend pointed out with a glance at
the blade. “Honestly, it’s rather handy.”
 “Do you think we should have a look at the temple?” Farah asked
Wulfsun.
The Templar captain nodded. “It’s probably safer to do so and make sure
nothing is hiding in there. But we have a fair distance to cover before we
reach the center.”
The team of magi approached the structure cautiously. Asla’s ears
twitched and Jazai’s eyes glowed. Both remained alert and scanned their
surroundings to be sure nothing snuck up on them. The fact that nothing did
seemed to make them more on edge.
“It’s too damn quiet,” Wulfsun muttered and Devol had to agree. They
had been in the dome for about ten or fifteen minutes now and besides the
illusions and the blast of abyssal magic they had walked through, nothing had
occurred. The area itself seemed almost sterile, merely dirt beneath them and
the temple in front of them, with no wind or noise around.
A crack was immediately followed by a snap and something darted
around the Finis stature. Asla bared her teeth and Devol held his blade up, but
Jazai simply pointed his index finger at the shadowy being that attempted to
hide and fired a mana missile at it. It struck home and the creature fell, but it
seemed to wiggle for a moment before it lay still. The three of them ran
closer to examine it.
The swordsman looked at the small, thin black body with three clawed
fingers on each hand and tiny, curved legs that ended in three clawed toes. Its
head was gaunt and small nubs dotted the top. One of its eyes was partially
closed but revealed faded yellow eyes. “I think this is…a Jota?”
Jazai knelt and flicked one of its long ears. “It is, but I’ve never heard of
one with this color.”
“This place seems to darken everything within,” Asla commented and
closed the imp’s eye. “It is possible that this is an Osirian jota.”
“The creatures stay together in packs.” Farah planted her sword into the
dirt and knelt beside the wildkin. She ran a hand over the corpse and noted
deep gashes in the flesh. “This one was injured even before it was struck by
the missile. It was hiding from something.”
Wulfsun joined them and examined the wounds “These cuts aren’t from
any beast I am aware of. Not to mention that it seems steeped in this cursed
magic.”
“Was something trying to eat it?” Devol asked.
“I haven’t the foggiest notion, honestly. This looks like something
attacked it merely because it could. Anyone and anything knows that jotas
can be trouble even on their own, but it is always near a pack. You should kill
it in one strike or retreat.” Wulfsun took a blade from his leather strap and
peeled the edges of the wound back. “It’s jagged and there are flecks of
something in there.”
“Of what?” Farah asked as Wulfsun removed his blade and took
something from the tip.
He studied it with a frown where it remained stuck on his finger. “It
appears to be…blood?”
“Well, given that it was cut open, it isn’t a surprise, is it?” Jazai
questioned.
“The jota’s blood is still fresh. This is clotted and…black…” Wulfsun’s
words faltered and his eyes widened as he shook the congealed blood off his
finger. “Ah, hells!”
A rumble issued from inside the temple. Those crouched beside the
carcass straightened hastily and all except the Templar jumped back as he
prepared a shield. A large, dark hand reached quickly from inside the temple,
snatched the man, and began to drag him in.
“Wulfsun!” Devol cried before shocked shouts came from behind him.
“Agh!” He and Asla turned to where Farah and Jazai struggled with
something on the ground. What looked like hands with shadowy claws had
emerged from under the abyssal dirt to grasp their ankles and attempt to pull
them down.
The diviner began to fire his cantrips at their attackers. One of the arms
let go and he forced himself back. He heard a loud crack in the process and
realized that he was almost free, but the arm still held fast to his ankle.
Farah pointed her blade at the soil and shouted in rage as she thrust her
blade into the muck. A swirl of bright light coursed down it and into the
earth. In the next moment, the ground ripped apart in a bright eruption and a
being streaked out.
It looked like a person dressed in dark robes and pants, although the
symbols on the robes were familiar. They were similar to those worn by the
scholars at the entrance of the dome. Its arms were skeletal and curved at the
fingers like talons. Farah tried to catch hold of it but was forced to let go
when the being tried to cut her face. It shuffled along the ground, twisted, and
reshaped itself before it stopped slowly, facing up. Both arms raised and
curved into a frightening angle to stretch back, flatten its hands on the
ground, and push itself up. It hobbled forward, its face obscured by the hood
of the robe before it raised its head slowly to look at the rest of the group.
The face was dark but had more definition than the sketches. It appeared
starkly gaunt and had the same white eyes as the drawing.
“A fiend,” Jazai said, his voice low enough to be almost a whisper as he
extended his hand.
Two more dropped from above the temple. Asla felt a rumble beneath her
and pushed Devol and Jazai out of the way when more hands thrust out to
snatch them. They missed their quarry and the owners of the arms forced
themselves from the dirt to glare balefully at the magi.
“Not merely a fiend,” Devol muttered and the flames coursed over his
body as Asla gathered herself. Farah let light surge along her blade and Jazai
began to build his mana. “Many, many fiends.”
“Look at their robes,” the wildkin said and glanced at those behind them.
“And the armor on those…”
“I guess we know what happened to everyone who was lost inside, huh?”
Jazai grimaced and formed a shield as a couple inched closer. The beings
crept around the group and their claws reached out as they stared blankly at
them with hollow lights in their eyes. Their robes dragged along the ground,
all in various states of disrepair, and pieces of the armor of others cracked
under the strain of movement.
“Can they be saved?” Farah asked as they closed in.
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe we’ll have the chance for that,” Devol
stated and held his blade up. “We need to hurry and see what happened to
Wulfsun.”
The captain steadied herself, nodded, and sliced quickly through a fiend.
Its body erupted in light and faded to nothing. Another swiped her arm and its
claws scratched at her armor but bounced off. She placed her hand against its
skull and fed her light magic into it. The being’s eyes and mouth lit up as the
magic surged within. It crumpled under her grasp before it turned into a dark
fog that disappeared into the ground.
Asla fell on all fours and let her anima surge as it took the form of a feral
cat. She launched herself at two of their adversaries and sliced each through
their chest before they could even react to her approach. As she turned, they
began to repair themselves so she doubled back and attacked in a flurry of
fearsome scratches. The armor fell as they also turned into fog and dissipated
into the sky.
 A fiend leapt at Jazai but he knocked it away with the shield. When
another attempted to strike him from behind, he blinked behind it and
extended his ring finger. The ring flared and a mana blade formed around his
hand and sank into his attacker’s head.
“Shock!” He summoned an arc of electricity and sent it through the blade
and into the fiend. It neither twisted nor flinched but began to stretch its
hands toward him. He grunted, pulled the blade back as two more shambled
closer to him, and raised a palm. “Pulse!” A wave of mana blasted out in
front of him and hurled the three away. “Elemental magic doesn’t work on
them. Be careful.”
“It’s not a big concern for me,” Devol replied and thrust his blade into an
armored being, which filled and erupted with light similar to Farah’s magic.
“If you need help, let me know.”
“Show off.” Jazai snorted and pointed his pinky at the recovering fiends.
Chains were summoned around the three of them and he held both hands up.
“Blast.” A large mana orb appeared in front of his palm and when he fired it
at the creatures, they were instantly engulfed by it. The sphere erupted and
the robes and armor scattered to leave only the dark fog that drifted into the
trees.
Farah felt a sharp pain in her side and turned toward a half-destroyed
fiend, a shadowy trail left under its chest, that had managed to inflict a small
cut on her ribs. “Someone needs to finish their work!” she yelled and
knocked it aside before she stabbed her blade into its head.
“It might have been me. My apologies!” Asla called and noticed two of
the enemy that crept forward behind the light-magic-user. She slid her hand
to the quiver Roko had given her, removed an arrow, and loaded it into the
crossbow on her arm. Calmly, she fired the bolt and controlled it so it pierced
the heads of both beings and stalled them. “Farah, behind you!”
The swordswoman spun and cleaved through the two. She nodded in
thanks to the wildkin once she’d finished off her would-be ambushers.
Devol had become separated from the group and a line of fiends
advanced on him. The distance from his teammates worked for him as he had
no need to worry about where the others were when he attacked. He lifted his
sword, built his mana up, and stretched the weapon skyward before he arced
it at his enemies. The blade lengthened into a large blade of light that sliced
the beings in half where they stood. They immediately turned into fog and
disappeared into the ground or the air. He frowned as he watched it.
Something was odd about the dark vapor but he would have to explore that
later.
“I’m going find Wulfsun!” he shouted and sprinted to the temple. “Can
you hold?”
“We’ll be fine,” Farah responded. “Whatever snatched him was far bigger
than these annoyances. Find him!”
Devol nodded and ascended the stairs to the temple quickly. Once he
stepped through the entrance, the doors slammed shut behind him and he was
left in the dark. A loud shout from below sounded distinctly like Wulfsun.
The boy found a large hole in the main chamber, and without hesitation, he
leapt into it, hoping to find his mentor within.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-F O U R

Devol charged his anima as he plunged into a cavern below the temple. He
landed with a splash in a shallow pool of water and used vis to compensate
for the impact.
Even with the aid of his mana, his legs gave way and pain surged through
his ankles and calves. “Wulfsun. Are you alive?”
“Devol, get down!” the Templar shouted and the boy ducked reflexively
as something large flew overhead. He turned quickly to look for whatever
had attacked him as his mentor splashed through the water toward him.
“What was that?” He gasped, retrieved his sword hastily from where he’d
dropped in the shallow pool, and held it up.
“I haven’t been able to get a good look at it.” Wulfsun checked the boy
and the rest of his gear. “But it didn’t look like any beast I know and it is
bloody massive.”
Devol stood and began to walk to the bank. “I saw its eyes. It didn’t have
any irises, only a blank void of white like the fiends above.”
“So there are fiends, then?” The Templar dug in his satchel and removed
three red orbs. “Let’s hope they weren’t too badly damaged. I fell down here
while fighting this blasted creature.” He lobbed them into the air and they
hovered in place and illuminated with a bright red light. “I have a couple
more but should probably save them in case this goes on for a while.”
The swordsman scrambled onto a pile of rocks and took a moment to
catch his breath. “It looked huge—at least ten to twelve feet tall. Something
like that shouldn’t be able to hide so easily.”
“Despite its size, it is a fast beastie.” Wulfsun looked at the hole high up
in the ceiling. “I’m not sure we want to fight down here. Can you make it up
there?”
“You’re by far the heavier of the two of us,” Devol replied as he studied
the aperture carefully. “I can probably make it if I can get good footing. Do
we want this beast to follow us to the surface, though?”
“Are you worried about the others?”
He nodded. “They are already dealing with the fiends. While they are not
all that troublesome, there are many of them. If you have fought with this
beast for this long, it must be dangerous.”
“I merely have a hard time landing a strike on the dammed thing,” the
Templar muttered. He looked up as the surface on which they stood began to
shake. “Here it comes.”
The creature came from below, launched from under the water, and
scattered most of it, it seemed to swallow a fair amount of it as well.
“Watch out!” Devol yelled. Once they were close to the water’s edge,
they turned to face their attacker and both felt a similar shock when the beast
was illuminated by the lighting orbs.
They stared at an abomination of scaled, sinewy muscle. It had two large
arms with four claws that dug into the rocks. The large body was wide and
chunky with cracked ridges along its chest and shoulder. It tapered into a
long snake-like tail that drove its slithering motion. A bulbous head topped
the body, and the white eyes the boy had noticed before peered coldly at
them. Its mouth seemed like it was made less for function and more as a
container for sharp, jagged teeth.
“By the Astrals, what is that?” He gasped.
Wulfsun saw a darkened glow beneath its scales and skin. The odd eyes
and the dark spots that seemed to travel along its body brought a recollection
to him. “This is an abyssal beast, lad. It’s an amalgamation of other beasts
forced into one decrepit shell.”
“An abyssal beast?” Devol looked at the dark creature and tightened his
hold on his majestic. “We can still destroy it, right?”
The man was silent but with a glance, Devol saw the determination in his
mentor’s face. “Aye, and we have to. We don’t want this to follow us, do
we?”
He shook his head. “All right, let’s—” Devol did not have the time to
complete his suggestion. The beast released the walls it was balancing on and
plunged toward them with an open maw. Without a cry or a roar and with
merely a showing of teeth and tongue, it dove into a vicious assault.
 The boy turned to leap but saw Wulfsun take a firm stance to stab at the
creature. “Wulfsun, watch yourself!” he cried but the Templar remained
steadfast and raised his barrier when it drew frighteningly close. It pounded
into the shield, bit down on it, and ripped at it with its claws.
Devol saw an opportunity. He turned and lunged at the monster while it
was busy trying to reach Wulfsun, held his sword up, and thrust the blade
into its side. It slid deep and flooded it with light. The beast released the
barrier and flung itself to the side. The sword came free and he braced
himself against the loss of weight on the blade.
The Templar nodded to him as he dropped his barrier. “It looks like
you’ll be extremely useful with this one,” he told him, a little out of breath.
They turned and froze when they noticed something swirling in the beast’s
mouth. “What in the—”
The creature spewed a torrent of abyssal magic directly toward them.
“Hells!” they both cried and used vis to race away. Their adversary
vaulted onto the wall and landed with a dull thud. It burrowed inside and
vanished. They came to a halt a few yards away and Devol breathed deeply
while Wulfsun growled as he cracked his knuckles.
“Devol, are you all right?” he asked through rapid breaths. “Are you
already winded after a little run?”
“I’m fine.” The swordsman grunted as he stood. “I’m a little taken aback,
is all. This place is something quite strange so far but it appears we’ve
learned one thing.” He looked at his sword. “My blade can damage it, at least
consistently. It was the same with the fiends above. They explode with light
like with Farah’s magic.”
“That abyssal fire or whatever it is will be a problem, though,” the
Templar muttered. “I don’t even want to try to use my shields against that as
I’m not sure what good it would do.”
“Maybe I can behead it or cut it into pieces,” Devol suggested. “If you
can get it into position, I should have enough time to—” The ground began to
rumble again and he looked down and saw the dark, ink-like magic seeping
through the cracks.
Wulfsun grabbed his arm and flung him away before he jumped the other
way. A jet of abyssal magic broke through the ground before the beast
emerged, turned, and focused on the Templar with its teeth bared. “Whatever
your plan is, go for it. I’ll stall this creature.”
“I’m on it,” Devol muttered through gritted teeth, held Achroma up, and
strengthened his anima. He ran to the rock mound and glanced over his
shoulder as the monster dove from overhead and struck at the large man. The
Templar jumped to the side and ran back a little as he raised his shields and
let his adversary swipe at him before he countered with a punch to its side.
The blow knocked it back but it simply spun in the air and swooped at him
again.
The young swordsman continued to build his mana up but the beast and
Wulfsun had moved farther away in their struggle. He wasn’t sure if he could
reach it now and decided he had to get closer. He leapt onto the water and
glided across it with some vello control. When he heard a yell, he turned to
where his mentor now careened across the cavern, having most likely been
swatted by the creature’s tail. He tightened his hold on the hilt of his sword,
leapt forward, and slid down a pile of rocks to the ground. While he would
have preferred a more stealthy approach, he had no other options and
Wulfsun would die if he didn’t get there.
He almost froze when the beast reared and its mouth filled with magic
again. Devol’s eyes widened and he wondered desperately if he was close
enough. Even the Templar was not sure if his barriers were enough to stop
that magic. He held the sword with both hands, filled it with as much mana as
he could muster, and hoped to force it in rather than guide it.
The monster turned toward him and revealed its many lines of teeth again
as it slithered closer and opened its mouth to fire the abyssal stream. It
extended its head toward him and he vaguely heard Wulfsun cry his name.
He raised the blade and released the stored mana as the beast unleashed its
magic. Light consumed his vision and he held his breath and closed his eyes.
The blade lowered to a full stop and Devol’s eyes remained closed. He
felt nothing but in the darkness, he heard a loud splash as something landed
in the water. The beast began to wail in pain. When he opened his eyes and
looked down, his mouth dropped open. The blade glowed with a brilliant
light that ran through the entire sword, the abyssal magic was gone, and the
illumination from the majestic lit up the cavern. The blade, hilt, and guard all
sparkled like new and glimmered brightly. Not only that, but he felt
rejuvenated like his mana had gone from a still pool to a flowing fountain.
“Devol!” Wulfsun shouted. “I don’t know what you did but by the
Astrals, keep doing it.”
“I don’t know what I did either,” he shouted in response.
“Look out!” the Templar warned and ran forward as he gathered his mana
into his gauntlets.
The boy whirled toward the creature that once again surged forward with
its mouth open to devour him. With a yell, he raised the sword and swung it
and a flash of light blocked his vision.
The cavern became suddenly and uncomfortably silent. Devol drew a
deep breath, startled when he saw the inside of the beast’s maw in front of
him, and took a few hasty steps back. The beast didn’t move and he frowned
and focused on a white line on the top of its mouth. The line separated slowly
and the creature fell into two halves that shook the ground with their impact.
Despite his new influx of life from the sword, he fell to his knees.
Unbelievably, he had slain the monster.
Splashes behind him drew him back to reality as Wulfsun ran up to him.
“You did it, Devol. Well done, boy!”
“That’s it?” he asked and breathed deep. “The beast is dead? Are you
sure? The fiends outside would turn to—” They stood side by side and stared
as it began to melt into the inky liquid the boy had come to know as abyssal
magic. The entire creature disintegrated and formed viscous strands of the
magic that combined into a small blob. It floated through the hole in the
ceiling.
“That can’t be good.” Wulfsun helped Devol to his feet. “Come on. Let’s
see how the others are doing.”
The boy nodded. Although he felt his mana had been rejuvenated, he still
struggled with extreme weariness. He frowned at the hole and tried to decide
if he could even attempt the leap.
“Do you need some help?” the Templar asked and caught hold of the
back of his coat.
“Wulfsun—wait. What are you doing?” The man made no response but
picked him up and drew his arm back as he pointed at the hole with his other
hand.
Devol’s eyes widened when he realized what was about to happen.
“Control yourself. There’s no need to use too much—” Wulfsun tossed him
through the hole and into the temple. His instincts fortunately kicked in and
he flipped himself and directed mana into his legs seconds before he pounded
into the ceiling. Imprints of his boots were left when he pushed off the tiles
and landed on the floor in the main chamber, his legs shaking.
He looked at the hole as he dragged in a breath. The Templar had
managed to jump high enough to catch hold of the edges of the hole. He
pulled himself through quickly and dusted himself off. “I should have
brought a towel,” he muttered and looked at Devol with a wide grin. “Fancy
footwork there! I might have used a little too much vis, I think. The distance
looked farther than it was.”
Devol’s legs continued to shake slightly but he nodded and thanked him
for the assistance. “We should go check on the others, right?”
“Right! Let’s get movin’,” Wulfsun declared and slapped the young
magi’s back enthusiastically. “I want to make sure that beastie is dead.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-F I V E

When Devol and Wulfsun stepped cautiously out of the temple, they saw the
others looking up at something that held their attention. They did the same,
startled, as the ooze-like remains of the beast congealed into a large orb
before it erupted and scattered large amounts of the dark fog around the area.
They all held their mouths or sucked in their breath with the exception of
Wulfsun, who began to yell, “Calm yourselves! It’s all right.” He held his
arms outstretched and his palms up. “It won’t hurt ye but keep your anima
up.”
The young swordsman lowered his hands as the abyssal fog drifted
around him and finally sank into the ground. “What is it doing? All the fiends
turned into this too after we killed them.”
“It’s the abyssal magic,” Wulfsun explained as the others regained their
composure. “It’s something…unique it does. It seems to recycle itself in
some manner.”
“Don’t all forms of magic do that?” Jazai asked and peered at the dome as
some of the remnants began to stick to the roof.
“Magic replenishes and mana reforms, but only if there is enough to start
with,” the Templar replied. He folded his arms as he focused on a trail of the
remains that drifted in front of his eyes. “You create a mana missile and fire
it, and once it hits, it disappears. This stuff…I am not sure what happens
exactly but it leaves trace amounts that are simply absorbed into other
concentrated pieces of it. It happens in the abyssal realm too and much more
quickly than here. It’s one of the reasons why you don’t wanna stay there too
long. No matter how many of those bastards you slay, more keep coming and
simply reappear right behind ya.”
 “So it possesses bodies in its own world as well?” Farah asked. “Who
lives there?”
“Possess?” Wulfsun asked, looked around, and finally noticed the bodies
around them. “Aw, hells. Were these some of yours?”
“They were.” She nodded. “Our soldiers and scholars who were deployed
here. It seems like the magic possessed their corpses, similar to how ghouls
function.”
“I can’t get away from those bastards,” Wulfsun grumbled as he knelt and
examined one of the bodies. “Aye, but in the abyssal realm, that only happens
if someone falls. They can simply create constructs in different forms to
attack, but they all seem humanoid to some extent—although I would say it is
closer to demonic.”
“More like the pictures we saw on the way here?” Asla asked.
Wulfsun dropped the body and nodded, “Aye. This probably wasn’t
meant to be a real attack. I think this substance simply makes things at
random. Although, given that beast and the possession of these soldiers and
guards, this could possibly have been a way to defend itself.”
“Defend itself?” Devol asked and turned to his mentor. “Wulfsun, you
say that like this is alive and giving orders.”
The Templar shrugged and checked the fit of his gauntlets. “It may not be
alive in the traditional sense, boyo, but there’s something to this magic—
something that makes me glad it’s not my profession that has to experiment
with it.” He turned and nodded to Jazai. “My condolences.”
“I beg your pardon?” the diviner countered before Farah stepped in.
“We need to get the rupture that has enabled this closed,” she stated and
put her blade away. “And as quickly as possible. If this…anomaly is reacting
to us, it will only continue to escalate so we should deal with it before it gains
strength.”
Wulfsun nodded. “Agreed. Fortunately, I think this will be far easier than
a trip into the realm itself. It only has a finite amount of the substance to work
with but still, it’s best to not press our luck.” His mana flared as he cracked
his knuckles “Stay close to me. We’re gonna rush through the rest of this.
Jazai and Farah, make sure we don’t get caught in another of those damned
illusions aye?”
The two nodded. The boy checked his rings while Farah held a hand out
and formed an orb of light, which she cast out in front of them. “That will
shine through any illusion, assuming we’re not trapped in one at the moment.
Make sure you always stay within sight of it.”
The others exchanged glances to make sure they were all ready. Wulfsun
leaped on top of the Temple and gestured for them to hurry. “Let’s get the job
done, ladies and gents!”

“Hey, Markus,” a guard by the name of Henry began and pointed behind his
comrade. “Are we expecting any more support or new arrivals today?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Markus responded and turned to see what he
was pointing at. “Why do you— Who the hells is that?”
Five figures approached from over the hill, all dressed in dark garb, but
the one who walked in front had no hood and wore red shades. Their stride
was swift and they marched directly to the dome with no hesitation.
“Civilians?” Henry asked.
His teammate shrugged. “Who knows, but they aren’t supposed to be
here. Hey, Tobias—incoming!” Another guard, along with several others and
a few scholars, looked at the approaching group. Tobias told a couple of
guards to follow him. He had planned to simply stop them and tell them to
turn back, but something was odd about them. Did he need to warn them
about the massive darkness stretching before them?
Unfortunately, Tobias and the guards would not have their chance to
question the strangers. He raised a hand to signal for them to halt and the
leader of the group did the same. The man pointed some kind of stick with a
red crystal in the tip in their direction. A flash emitted from this and the
guards were incinerated before they even had a moment to scream.
The other guards snatched their arms up and some scholars ran while
others prepared spells. The four beings behind the fire mage suddenly
sprinted forward and caught some knights in the front. They used daggers or
the unnatural claws on their fingers to pierce through or around the armor to
eliminate them with quick strikes.
Salvo grinned as he formed several small orbs of fire that he cast at
random targets. Some were able to defend against them with shields, both
enchanted and mana-created, and others were able to dodge them. Two fell to
the fiery onslaught. He twisted his wand and commanded the flames that now
burned the grounds to snake around and envelope more guards as his ghouls
continued their attacks.
The swift onslaught and growing fire caused massive disarray amongst
the defenders. Salvo noticed a pair of scholars trying to escape on his left
side. He flicked his wand toward them, ensnared them in a cage of fire, and
held a finger up to tell them to wait as he continued to deal with the rest.
“Someone needs to contact the others inside!” Haldt cried “They need to
know—watch out!” He held a shield up and a torrent of fire slammed into it.
The flames began to spin and grow to consume him and two other guards
beside him. Their armor was quite convenient for Salvo. It meant they could
not run away as effectively, which might have been rather annoying.
The fire mage finally approached the dome and stared at it in amusement.
“This is only a trial run?” he remarked as he spun his wand carelessly. “I
wonder what he has planned for the real thing. This seems nothing more than
a novelty.” He looked at the ghouls and pointed to one. “You—go to that
cage and fetch me a scholar. Slit the other.” The ghoul nodded and hurried to
the fiery cage as Salvo let it fall. When he felt a thumping in the box on his
waist, he opened the container, took the mask out, and smiled pleasantly at it.
The ghoul brought one of the scholars, who was a sputtering mess from
the ordeal. Salvo nodded to the gate. “Open it.”
“You can’t be serious!” the prisoner babbled. “You want to go in there?
You have killed anyone here who has any chance to contain it.”
“It works as well,” he muttered and traced the etchings on the mask. “It
wasn’t my goal but it benefits my master all the same.”
“You know who did this?” the scholar asked, equally aghast and angry.
“What are you trying to do to our kingdom?”
“If it makes you feel any better, he’s after the world as a whole, I think.
He’s been rather vague about that,” Salvo admitted and turned to look at the
kneeling man. “Now, open the gate or I will after I dispose of you slowly and
painfully.”
Although he was shaking, the man grasped his knees and shook his head.
“You intended to do that anyway. Like hell I’ll willingly do anything for
you.”
He gave the man a wide grin and turned the mask as he took his shades
off and slid them into a pocket. “Well, you are certainly right about that first
part.” He placed the mask on his face. The scholar raised an eyebrow briefly
before his eyes widened in fear as the mask seemed to reshape itself and
assume a darker visage of its wearer. The fire mage pointed his wand at the
head of the scholar, who closed his eyes and said a prayer to the Astrals
before the red crystal of Salvo’s majestic flared and the man’s body was
turned instantly to ashes.
“Huh.” The large man looked at his wand and tapped the side of his
mask. “I didn’t mean to do it so fast. This is a powerful little accessory, isn’t
it?” He looked at the emotionless ghoul and sighed. “Why am I asking you?
Let us go and find our real prey.” He turned to the gate and burned the runes
off before he blasted the shield until it shattered. The darkness held within
spilled past him and enveloped the area.
Salvo began to shiver in anticipation. Even amongst all this strange
magic, he could feel them not too far off. He heard himself laugh which was
uncharacteristic of him, but he didn’t bother to stop. Single-minded and
determined, he marched into the dome and the ghouls followed. A voice in
his head repeated only two words—kill them.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- S I X

The group raced through the abyss, now in an area that brought to mind a
crop field in the midst of decay. Above them, the clouds began to disperse
but didn’t fade away for some reason and instead, thickened and expanded to
blanket the whole sky.
Devol could feel the magic that powered everything. Different types of
magic felt different, but none were truly anything other than slight variations
—a pressure, a small heat, a haze similar to walking into fog or smoke, all
things that typically, only those with considerable experience would notice as
peculiar or a sign.
But this was different. A feeling of heaviness permeated the entire area,
not only his body. As he ran, he felt he not only had to run with extra weight
attached to him but also as if he had to push through something that tried to
keep him away.
Both Asla and Jazai’s breathing began to labor like his did. Was this
merely an effect of the abyssal magic now that they were closer to the center?
Or was it caused by the presence of something else within? This was more
tangible than anything he had fought or witnessed before.
As they drew closer to the center of the field, Devol pushed himself to go
faster and so was the first to break through. A massive pit yawned in front of
him, at least a quarter of a mile wide but incredibly deep. Obelisks floated
around a large, swirling abyss in the center of the clearing and purple and red
runes glowed before their color began to dim.
“What is this?”
Wulfsun’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “It is what I suspected, lad
—a rift or a tear between dimensions. Those obelisks must be a part of some
type of ritual they used to cause it.”
“So if we destroy the obelisks the tear will close?” Farah asked and
unsheathed her blade. She rolled the sleeves of her jacket up and lunged at
one of the obelisks as the others finally joined them. The bright glow of her
light magic swirled around her hands and into her blade as she tried to pierce
one of the stones.
“Farah, don’t!” the Templar shouted but she already had. The runes
flared, turned white, and something struck her chest. She was catapulted back
and thankfully, was caught by Jazai and Devol before she could make impact
with the earth.
Her blade flared as she stood. She held it aloft and readied herself for
another attempt to destroy one of the obelisks, but Wulfsun ran in front and
blocked her path.
“Stop it, woman!” he shouted. Even at full volume, his words were barely
audible above the roar of the wind and the unnatural howl that issued from
the portal. “Destroying the obelisks won’t do anything right now. If we had
destroyed them before the rift was opened, that might have been useful but at
this point, they are what is holding it together.”
“Then what would happen if we destroyed them? Wouldn’t that close the
tear?” Asla asked.
“Not necessarily. It’s hard to tell but the tear may be sustaining itself. If
anything, destroying the obelisks will cause the rift to grow wild. It might
slow it temporarily but could also cause it to tear even more,” he explained.
Farah pursed her lips but nodded and lowered her blade. Devol steadied
himself and they peered at the scene below. The rift Wulfsun spoke of
appeared to be similar to a portal, but the edges were jagged and the form
twisted. Something was visible inside. “Wulfsun, what is that?!” he asked
and pointed below. “Something is in there. Is that normal?”
“Ah, hells!” The Templar growled and thumped his gauntlets together.
“There should be more of the magic pouring through. I had hoped it was
dying down but something is blocking it. Something is coming through.”
“And what is that?” Farah demanded.
They did not have to wait long to find out. A large hand was the first
thing to emerge from the rift. It pushed against it as if it was some kind of
muck and the earth simply wrapped around it. A second arm followed, then
pointed horns on a head with no clean features. The being was the ebon shade
of the portal.
 Finally, the creature uttered a snarl and bellowed as it forced the rest of
itself through. Jazai fell and placed his hands on the ground, and an earthen
wall arose around them. Wulfsun added his barrier to it. A burst of magic was
unleashed that shattered the wall and hurled them into the fields.
Devol landed and tumbled for a few moments before he turned and froze
when a stream of purple lightning seared toward him. Asla leapt forward,
snatched the back of his jacket, and flung them both away from the deadly
assault. Remnants of the energy crackled on the soil and shifted between
shades of purple and blue. He stared at it, both mesmerized and unnerved,
before he moved his hand cautiously closer to it. Even without touching it, he
knew there was something wrong about it. It burned, but when he jerked his
hand back and ran the other one over it, his palm felt chilled.
The swordsman stood, shook the pain off, and helped Asla up. “Thanks
for that,” he said gratefully as they ran to the clearing. Wulfsun and Farah
were already there and Jazai blinked in behind them. As they gazed at the
being, the darkness faded and was replaced by a dark-blue skin. White eyes
formed with slits for irises.
What had first appeared to be a pair of horns were two—one pair that
pointed to the sky and one each on either side that curved around its head. A
vertical mouth had rectangular husks around its lips that peeled back to reveal
long, spear-like teeth. It stood on four legs and two long, spindly arms were
coated in the abyssal energy it had fired at them and that traced through its
chest and up to its shoulders.
The odd eyes finally cleared and it lowered its head and focused on the
group. Devol could see nothing that might indicate fury, confusion, glee, or
anything of that nature. This being seemed to be as mindless as the beast he
and Wulfsun had slain but he was not sure if he could even read the emotions
of this one. It arched its back and stretched its legs and standing at full height,
it was at least ten feet tall. As they stared at it in stupefaction, it leaned away
from the group and several small holes beneath its eyes flared. Was it
smelling them? Could these abyssal creatures even do that?
Finally, it uttered a gurgled hiss, snapped its mouth closed, and extended
both arms. Wulfsun and Farah were the first to react. The Templar battered
the large hand away with a solid punch while Farah sliced through the other
arm. Her light magic drew another hiss from the creature. It stepped back and
its large legs shook the ground when it stumbled.
“I don’t know if you guys are standing around thinking of a clever plan!”
Wulfsun shouted at Devol and his friends. “But now isn’t the time for that.
Kill this bastard!” He condensed his mana into one of his gauntlets and
released a blast. The demonic creature swiped a hand and a surge of abyssal
magic swallowed the attack. The man cursed as he prepared to charge before
the demon leaned forward, planted its hands on the ground, and shrieked at
the group.
Asla curled into a ball to block the sound and it almost deafened Devol.
He looked at Jazai, who tried to fire a spell from one of his rings, but
whatever it was simply vanished before it could form properly. The Templar
stood tall, pounded his hands together, and released a large blast of mana that
seemed to counter the demon’s wail. He then responded with a roar of his
own as he lunged forward and struck it in the chest with sufficient force to
thrust it back by several feet.
The young diviner was finally able to fire a volley of mana bolts that
pierced the creature as it tried to reengage. Asla shook her head and staggered
to her feet but seemed to have recovered. Devol drew Achroma and joined
Farah and they both raced toward the demon and struck. This turned out to be
quite effective, as each of their attacks claimed one of its arms. The limb he’d
severed began to disintegrate, only for the remnants of the magic to streak
past him and back onto the demon. Farah’s did the same and they shook their
heads in disbelief as the creature’s arms grew back. It turned toward them and
lightning formed in its hands.
As Wulfsun ran forward for another blow, the being lifted its two back
legs and kicked at him. The Templar caught the legs but was dragged to the
ground. The demon fired a large chain of lightning at Devol and Farah. She
drove her blade into the earth and erected a shield in front of them. The
lightning bounced off and struck the soil around them, which erupted in
geysers of the abyssal magic.
Asla had finally recovered enough to join the brawl. She bounded high
and dove toward the demon’s head with her claws extended. It evaded her but
she was able to use her majestic to tear a chunk out of its neck and shoulder,
which quickly reformed as it attempted to snatch her. The reaching arm was
trapped in a mana chain held by Jazai. “Pulse!” he cried and sent a pulse of
magic through the chain that blew the demon’s arm off, albeit with the same
results as before.
“Well, damn,” the magi protested as he blinked next to Devol. “I should
have gone for the head.
 “I’m hoping that will work,” his friend replied and Achroma flared in his
hands.
“This beast is persistent!” Farah shouted and yanked her blade out of the
ground.
Something caught Devol’s eye and he turned quickly. Several smaller
creatures pushed through the rift below.
“Wulfsun, more are coming,” he shouted as the Templar finally recovered
and forced the demon’s leg out from under it. “You have to close the portal!”
“I doubt this damned thing will leave us be!” the man responded as he
prepared to face the regenerating creature again. “I need to be able to focus
when I work on the rift.”
Devol turned to Jazai and Asla, who immediately understood and nodded
as their animas strengthened. “We’ll take care of it. You and Farah close that
tear before we are overwhelmed.”
“Are you sure, lad?” The Templar held his barrier against a blast from the
beast before he grasped its arm and hurled it several feet away. “Can you
handle it?”
“Of course,” the swordsman assured him and he and Asla charged into
the fray before the creature could recover.
“It’s probably better than what you two have to deal with.” Jazai joked
morbidly as he fired a missile at the head of the demon. Wulfsun and Farah
looked into the pit, where at least a dozen fiends pushed through with more
behind them.
“Can we still seal it at this point?” she asked and looked somewhat
dubiously from her sword to the enemy below.
“Aye, we can. It will take some doing, though.” He adjusted his left
gauntlet and nodded to her. “You got my back?”
Farah rested her blade on her shoulder and nodded. “I am ready,
Captain.”
“Ha!” The Templar chortled and bent at the knees as he prepared to leap.
“That’s good to hear, Captain.” The two of them jumped into the pit to face
the horde that now had their complete attention.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- S E V E N

Wulfsun swung a powerful single punch smash into the face of one of the
oncoming fiends, which released a ripple of magic that surged through a
group behind it. Farah quickly began her attack. She sliced through two in
one swing before she spun and drove her blade into the head of the next, then
used her light magic to extend the tip of her blade and skewer another behind
it.
“They are hardly a challenge.” She growled and kicked the being off her
blade as she readied herself for another wave of them.
“These are small fry,” the Templar replied and stamped a boot onto a
fallen fiend. “They are probably pouring in because of all the ruckus the big
guy made getting here.”
She held her sword back, charged it with her light magic, and sliced
deftly at her new targets. Her blade was now a glowing saber that cleaved
through five of the creatures before they had time to even get within range to
attack.
Wulfsun chuckled as he caught the hand of an attacker and thunked it into
the earth before he hurled it at another to thrust both back into the rift.
“You’re exactly like the lad,” he told her and climbed quickly over some
unsteady terrain as he approached the tear. “If you were a Templar, you
would make a good mentor for him as well.”
“That blade of his…he doesn’t use holy magic, does he?” she inquired as
she kicked the feet out from under another fiend before she smoothly
beheaded one that tried to attack her from behind.
“Not exactly,” Wulfsun admitted, checked his satchels, and shook his
head. “Damn. Ah well, Plan B then.”
 The guard captain noticed two of the fiends sliding down the sides of the
pits from above. She pointed her blade at them, funneled her magic through
it, and unleashed a bolt of light magic that erupted beside them. Both were
soon covered in the glowing, ethereal magic before their forms collapsed into
the dark fog. “Is something the matter?”
“I forgot a reagent,” he admitted as he sidled closer to the rift. His anima
strengthened to protect him against the disruptive abyssal magic. “There’s no
need to worry, though. I have a better plan.” He held his gauntlets up. Both
glowed brightly, almost blindingly so. “You’ve got my back, right,
Captain?!”
Farah leapt beside him and struck a fiend down on landing. “Of course.”
The Templar nodded, positioned his gauntlets over the rift, and extended
them to either side. Two mana constructs that took the form of his gauntlets
appeared on the edges of the rift. He began to pull inward and although he
wasn’t holding anything in his arms, he struggled as he drew his hands
together. Farah watched as the rift was forced closed by the magical
gauntlets.
“What do you intend to do? Hold it closed forever?”
“I only need to shut it,” Wulfsun shouted in response. “After that, I can
set a ward up to keep it shut and you can destroy the obelisks.”
“So I wasn’t completely wrong then,” she muttered and scowled at
several fiends being reborn from the abyss. She held her sword up and
checked her surroundings to make sure no others were sneaking around them
or coming in from above. They were numerous but easy prey and she
wondered how the young ones above were faring.

“This bastard is the worst!” Jazai shouted before he blinked away as the
abyssal demon attempted to crush him underfoot.
“It heals itself too quickly,” Asla added but continued to rip and tear
pieces of the creature apart with little success. The wounds she inflicted were
healed almost as soon as she made them. “We can knock it down but I do not
believe it feels real pain.”
“It keeps making those gurgles and hisses,” Devol pointed out. “It has to
feel something.”
 “I think it only does that because it can’t swear at us,” the young diviner
responded. He checked his tome but grunted in annoyance when he found
nothing useful. “It doesn’t even register.”
“I think we’ll simply have to hit it with enough force for it to not have a
chance to regenerate,” the swordsman said.
Jazai nodded and wiped his brow. “I hate it when brute force is the
correct choice.” He took a deep breath and regulated his anima. “I have a
plan.”
“You do?” he asked. Asla yelled at them to move and they realized that
the demon had begun to charge another blast of magic. Devol prepared to
defend but noticed something odd. A bright spot appeared on its torso and
grew larger, and its chest began to protrude. He felt oddly hot and wondered
if this was some new magic the beast possessed.
It turned but its chest erupted in flames before it could finish. They spread
quickly to cover its whole frame. It attempted to repair itself but the fire
simply continued to grow larger and hotter and soon, the creature couldn’t
keep up. The three friends watched as the abyssal demon fell and even the
fog could not escape the flames.
Devol looked at his comrade, who noticed this and shrugged. “That
wasn’t me. I have no idea what—”
“Someone is approaching,” Asla warned as she stepped beside them. Four
figures in dark robes like those he’d seen at the station moved steadily toward
them. They were ghouls, he realized, surprised to see them there. He grasped
his majestic and stepped forward, but Jazai caught his shoulder and held him
back.
“Devol…it’s him—the fire magi from Rouxwoods,” he stated with a
grimace. “I recognize the mana but something is different. It's erratic and…
darker.”
“Darker?” Devol turned as a fifth figure emerged from the field. He
recognized the wand immediately—the one Vaust called Kapre—and he
recognized something else too that made his eyes widen.
“That’s the mask,” Asla whispered and crouched beside them. “The mask
the monster wore.”
“The demon mask.” Jazai nodded. “It’s a malefic. I guess this all went to
a real bad place.”
Salvo folded his arms and tilted his head as he regarded the group in
silence for a moment. “Well, I finally caught up with you brats,” he mused.
The mask was doing something to his voice. Devol had only heard the man
talk briefly before and his voice had been arrogant and a little shrill. He could
still hear that but it was like another voice overlapped with his, this one
monotone and almost grave.
“I had hoped to find that mori here but guess he thought this wasn’t worth
his time, huh?” He pointed his wand at the pit. “But I guess he doesn’t have
to watch over you. You have that big fella with you—down there I’m
guessing? It sure looks like he would be a fun match.”
“If you couldn’t take Vaust you can’t take Wulfsun!” Devol cried
heatedly. “They are equals in the order.”
“Is that so?” Salvo chuckled and the unnerving voice echoed it. “Well, I
look forward to seeing how long he can last against me. It’ll give me some
idea and a time to beat when I find the mori.” He grinned, his wand still
pointed at the pit. “But that’s for later. Right now, I want to enjoy our
reunion.” A circle of fire erupted, covered the vast edge of the hole, and
climbed a few feet.
Devol turned and tried to shout to Wulfsun but a blue light flashed behind
him. He turned to see that Jazai had created a shield to block the attacks by
the four ghouls that sprang into action as soon as he looked away.
“It won’t hold!” the diviner shouted and Devol and Asla prepared to fight
as the shield fell and the beings pushed through.
Salvo watched this for a moment in genuine amusement. They had been
able to hold Koli off so they should be able to last against a few ghouls for a
couple of minutes, at least. He pointed Kapre above the pit and rolled the
wand in his hands. He would need a little time to set this up, but it would be
worth the effort. It was dark in this hole, after all.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-E I G HT

Two ghouls, one with a pair of daggers and the other with wretched claws,
clashed against Devol’s sword. Asla battered one away and Jazai swept in
quickly to grab the ghoul with the knives and ported them away.
Devol forced the remaining two back, slid away, and held his sword up.
These beings were fast and much stronger than he had imagined. Wulfsun
had said they were reanimated corpses, right? He would have thought their
muscles would have decayed if that were the case. He studied them as they
began to circle him and noticed that they pulsed with mana, but it didn’t
appear to be Salvo’s. It couldn’t be theirs as the dead could not form mana,
and whoever gave it to them had enough to spare as these entities could use
vis with ease.
He held his blade to one side and his gaze darted from one to the other.
He glanced at Salvo, who waved his wand casually toward the pit, and he
frowned. What was he doing? One of the ghouls moved toward him and he
snapped to face it. He could fight multiple opponents at once usually, but
given how fast these could move, if he messed up only once, that might give
them enough of an opening to disembowel him. Instinctively, he began to
back away, only to realize that would either take him closer to the crop fields
and whatever might be lurking in there or closer to the fires Salvo had
already created.
He looked at his teammates. Jazai managed to fend his opponent off but
couldn’t land a clean strike and Asla and her ghoul traded blows. It was fast
enough to keep up with her, but she had been worn down by their time in the
abyss. While he was certain she could outlast it, he wasn’t sure how long it
would take before she could eliminate it. Either way, neither of his friends
could take one of his two adversaries. He needed to take care of these grunts
and get to Salvo. His instincts didn’t like that he merely stood there and made
no effort to attack them as well given how much he seemed to want to hurt
them.
The young swordsman looked at Achroma. It was a fine long blade but he
would probably be better off at the moment with two shorter ones. The
ghouls lunged at him, one on either side. He moved to defend against the one
with daggers and would try to dodge the other, but he might have to take the
blow. Seconds before they stuck, Achroma’s light flashed. He held firm
against the attacker’s blades and anticipated the blow from the other one, but
it never came. When he glanced back, he gaped in astonishment. The second
being was held back by another sword shaped exactly like Achroma but made
purely of the white light that ran through his blade.
Devol kicked the ghoul off him and the floating sword swiped at the other
to force it back. He spun his sword and the duplicate copied his movement
before it turned to face the other assassin. This was something new and very
welcome at the moment. With more assuredness granted to him thanks to the
magically appearing weapon, he lunged at the creature in front of him and the
light sword attacked the other.
His adversary held its daggers up to block him but was no match against
the heft and strength of his sword. He almost shattered the daggers with a
strike and knocked the ghoul's hands away before he spun and used the
momentum to carve through the creature’s waist and slice it in two.
He turned to see the other trying to reach him, but the light sword no
longer mirrored his actions and instead, tried to either attack it or simply held
it at bay by deflecting it. Devol leapt forward and tried to run his blade
through the creature’s head but it caught his blade as he landed. He struggled
against it for a moment, looked at the light blade, and smiled as he snatched it
by the hilt and drove it into his adversary’s stomach.
The ghoul’s grasp weakened and he yanked his majestic out of its hands
before he raised it high and arced it down through the creature’s skull. As its
body collapsed, black liquid seeped from its skin. The light sword vanished
from his hands and he was baffled for a moment. He didn’t want that to
happen, he thought wildly. Then again, he did not know how it had appeared
in the first place.
Devol looked at Jazai, who had finally trapped his opponent and
weakened it with a shock cantrip before he used a mana blade to behead it.
Asla was already finished. She tossed the head of her opponent to the side
and he grinned. It appeared he was the only one to show any ingenuity in his
finishing blows. He and the wildkin moved forward to confront Salvo, who
had turned to look at them. The young swordsman felt a nervous chill despite
the heat when he realized that the mask seemed to smile at him.
“Oh, no!” Jazai shouted and pointed frantically into the sky above the pit.
“He’s going to roast them!”
Asla and Devol whirled and both scowled at a large orb of flame far
above, close to the top of the dome. The boy lunged at the fire magi before he
could register what he was doing. He swung his blade over his head in
preparation to strike Salvo down. Before he could complete the motion, the
fire magi whipped a hand out and struck him across the face to hurl him
several yards and close to the fire-wall. Asla managed to bound closer and
stopped him.
Devol stared at the large man while he tried to regain his footing from the
impact. Had he been that strong before? He did not remember fighting him
physically but someone who used fire magic like that usually preferred to
fight from a distance. They didn’t train that much in physical combat. He and
Asla glanced at one another while Salvo stared at his hand with his head
tilted to one side. It appeared even he was rather impressed by how much
power he had unleashed in one blow.
“Incredible isn’t it?” the fire mage asked and returned his focus to the
group. “I had heard about the malefics, even when I was your age, but never
paid them much attention. They were powerful, sure, but the tradeoffs…
Well, I was fine with Kapre when I eventually got my hands on her.” He
pointed the wand at the large fire orb and lowered it. The three friends
watched in horror as the orb plummeted past the fire-wall and into the pit,
which erupted in a pillar of flame.
“No! Wulfsun, Farah!” Devol shouted before the explosion knocked both
him and Asla back. He turned to the fire magi with fury in his eyes. “Salvo!”
“So you are finally showing a little spirit!” The man laughed, waved his
wand in front of him, and sent a whip of fire at the swordsman.
Jazai moved quickly in front of him and held a hand out. “Frost!” A wall
of frost formed in front of the group which Salvo’s flames made impact with
and caused steam. “It’s burning too fast,” the diviner warned and he grasped
his two teammates and blinked out of the way before the fire bored a hole in
the ice.
 Salvo winced and balled his hand so tightly that he realized he could
potentially snap Kapre. Under normal circumstances, that wasn’t a concern
but given his new accessory and the unnatural strength it gave him, it was a
real and potentially fatal mistake. He ran a hand down the mask for a moment
as the order from before grew steadily louder. Kill them. He would, of course.
That was what he had come there to do, but he should take the time to enjoy
it at least.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-N I N E

“By the Astrals, I hate doing that,” Jazai said where he sprawled on the
ground, coughed, and shook his head. “Teleporting oneself is enough of a
pain but bringing others along for the ride makes things…whirly.”
“Are you okay?” Asla asked and rubbed his back. “You did the same
thing with the ghoul earlier.”
“I had to get it out of the way,” he muttered and rolled onto his knees. “I
didn’t want to have you dodging my attacks while dealing with the creep.”
“Where did you take us?” Devol asked and looked around. “Are we in the
crops?”
“I didn’t have time to plan.” He raised a hand but lowered it weakly. “I
chose a direction and cast us through the…the…hold on.” Jazai slumped and
moaned and Asla rubbed his back.
“We need to get him out of here.” The young swordsman patted his
friend’s pocket. “Where’s his marble?”
“No!” the diviner protested and forced himself to stand. “We need to keep
Salvo busy while Wulfsun and Farah finish with the rift.”
“Wulfsun?” Devol asked incredulously. “Do you think he’s all right?”
Both his friends shook their heads. “What? Of course! You haven’t
learned yet that surviving perilous situations is simply what he does?”

“What in the hells was that?” the Templar roared, pushed himself to his feet,
and helped Farah to stand. Above them, a massive dome created using his
majestic had defended them from the large fireball that threatened to
incinerate them. All around the barrier, the pit was aflame but inside their
smaller space, they were safe. “Damn. I had to let go of the rift to make that
barrier.”
“Is it opening again?” Farah asked and glanced at the portal “Can you still
close it?”
“Aye, but I need to keep this barrier going as well,” he stated and studied
the inferno outside their haven. “Those aren’t normal, even for magic fire. I
don’t want to risk being caught in that.”
“Wulfsun!” Farah held her blade up and nodded toward the portal.
Several more fiends came through, these a little more solidly built than the
gaunt horde they had recently fought. “Focus on the rift. I’ll take care of
these.”
“Thanks.” Wulfsun nodded. “I’ll work as fast as I can. The barrier will
probably get smaller if I have to keep it up for too long. And when we’re
done…” He looked into the sky. “We need to find out whatever the hell made
that fire. Hopefully, the young ones don’t do anything rash.”

Salvo strolled around the fire-wall and threw out small blasts of flame in an
attempt to smoke the three friends out. “Have you left already?” he shouted
and set fire to a row of crops. “Is this getting too hot for you?” He sighed at
that. It was pathetic. He could usually come up with better taunts but he was
too hot and bothered. What the hells was wrong with him?
He looked at the fire-wall around the pit, parted a section slightly, and
peered in. At the very bottom, a dome of bright yellow light was visible
amongst the fire. A magical shield? It must have been damn sturdy to survive
his attack and still be standing. He squinted at the numerous figures inside.
One wielded a sword and fought several darker humanoid beings. A larger
one occasionally confronted a few of the creatures but seemed to be focused
on something to do with the rift.
It didn’t matter to him exactly what they were doing. He had tried to kill
them earlier and it would be bad form to let them continue living. It was a
point of pride with him to finish what he started if possible. He pointed his
wand at the shield and considered the best way to destroy it when he sensed a
powerful surge of mana directed toward him.
“Salvo!” Devol roared and raced toward the fire magi with renewed
vigor.
“There you are,” he responded cheerfully, turned toward him, and fired a
stream of flames. The boy swung his blade to cut them cleanly and disperse
them. The fire magi leapt aside and the blade narrowly missed his jacket.
“You can cut through fire?” he asked. “Is that normal for a sword?”
“Frost!” Jazai shouted and a pillar of ice suddenly encased all but the
bottom of his left leg, right arm, and neck.
“Do you think this can hold me, you novice?” he demanded as he began
to force out of the ice using his strength alone.
“Fortify!” the diviner stated calmly. The ice began to harden and
compress the villainous magi.
“Clever little bastard.” Salvo scowled and tried to spin his wand in his
hand. As he began to form a fireball to blast himself out, Asla pounced at
him, her claws extended and aimed at his mask. “Don’t you dare, mongrel!”
He hissed his outrage and the fire orb turned into several smaller ones that he
cast at her. She was able to twist around them and stretch a claw forward to
swipe as he managed to burst through the ice in a fit of rage. The wildkin
rebounded off the pillar, which began to melt from the heat, and landed near
Devol as the fire magi landed and ran a hand over his mask. He suddenly
became very still.
The young swordsman noted marks on the mask. Asla had been able to
damage it, although the plan was for her to try to steal it. He would finish it,
he decided. That had to at least cause some damage to Salvo, shouldn’t it?
They were connected as long as he wore it. He took Achroma in both hands
and the light within swirled into a fire not unlike his adversary’s. As the man
turned toward him, he surged into an attack. Thick, deep-red blood poured
from the marks on the mask and it now pulsated.
“You dare too?” Salvo growled his outrage and raised his wand as Devol
arced his blade. “I am done playing.” He cast out a large torrent of fire as the
boy unleashed the same from his blade, similar to the attack he had used
against Koli months before. These flames, however, did not tear through the
land like those had. Instead, they were halted and clashed against his
adversary’s inferno, one that slowly changed color to an unnatural crimson
hue.
“Devol!” Asla cried and prepared to run toward him, only for the flames
around the pit to flare out in front of her and block her path. Jazai used his
frost cantrip to create paths between the flames but they melted faster than he
could make them.
The young swordsman’s hands shook and the flames from his blade were
forced back and he along with them. The fire magi’s continued to grow as he
stalked forward. “This is what forced Koli to run?” he shouted over the roar
of the flames. “Pathetic!”
Jazai eased behind Devol and threw up a large wall of ice before he
stretched forward and yanked the swordsman back. Salvo screamed at them
and his fire blazed through the frigid wall in one swipe. The diviner jumped
and moved both of them out of the way as the crimson flames seared the
ground along its path.
With a yell, he threw his robes off and Devol realized they were alight.
His friend fumbled on his belt, retrieved a vial of clear liquid, and poured it
along his arm where burn marks were visible from his knuckles to his
shoulder. “Jazai!”
“I’ll be fine!” The boy grunted and flexed his hand. “The fire burns like
the hells, though. What was with that color?”
“It has to be something to do with the mask,” Devol reasoned. “Check
your tome.”
Jazai opened the book as the two boys wandered around the labyrinth of
flames in search of an escape “It won’t tell us anything,” the diviner stated
and his lips pressed together in frustration.
“Is he blocking you somehow?” he asked.
“No, it’s not that.” His friend flipped the book and showed it to him. “I
don’t think he’s capable of anything like that now.”
Devol looked at the page which contained no paragraphs and no general
information, only two pages filled with the same words constantly repeated.
Burn them, kill them, consume them.
 CHAPTER THIRTY

“That mask is taking its toll,” Jazai stated and shut his tome. “It grants power
in many ways and forms, but each time you use it, the cost is a little more of
your sanity. It doesn’t take long to collect, especially if you weren’t all there
to begin with.”
“Consume?” Devol sliced through the lines of fire with his blade. “Does
he want to eat us?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.” The diviner placed his hand
against his burn and used frost to wrap it in ice. “I’m not sure if that is his
desire or some kind of condition of using the mask. Or maybe he’s simply
losing it, but I’m not interested enough to find out.”
“Asla!” Devol shouted and swept his blade through more flame. “Asla,
where are—” His words died as the fire began to die down before it pulled
away from the ground entirely and floated above them, where it contorted
and formed into separate strands.
The wildkin stared at the flames much like they did before they all looked
at Salvo, who held his wand straight up to the sky. Devol’s gaze shifted to the
mask. It was still bleeding and its form had shifted again so it lived up to its
name. The man looked like a demon—or, rather, like he was possessed by
one. He no longer bellowed or screamed but wordlessly pointed his wand at
them as the flames coiled around one another to form a serpentine figure.
The fire magi whipped the wand toward them and the fiery snake struck
out at them. The swordsman ran forward and attempted to block the attack
with Achroma. He succeeded once and knocked the snake to the side, but the
man simply flicked the wand in the other direction and the serpent attacked,
surged into his sword, and dislodged it from his hand.
 Asla’s anima flared and she prepared to strike while Jazai tended to
Devol, but the fire creature encircled all three of them and constricted quickly
around them. “Keep your animas up!” Jazai shouted and uttered a hiss of pain
as the snake inched closer to his burned arm. Devol reached for his majestic
but the snake was too quick, ensnared the trio, and hoisted them into the air.
The fire’s form was almost crystalline and bound them together to take
this shape and hold them. Devol could feel the heat burning him even with
his anima holding it at bay. He tried to reach into his pocket but he couldn’t.
From this position, he couldn’t even reach his marble. In his panic, he didn’t
think to call his majestic to him.
Salvo wanted to taunt them and ask if they regretted their choice to try to
be Templars and if they wondered if they had made any progress at all if they
died so young because of foolish choices. But instead, he heard the incessant
demand in his head—burn them, kill them, consume them. He wanted to and
could sense that the desire was his own, but it also felt wrong—like he was
rushing this. After all his efforts, he wanted to enjoy it more but the voice
constantly demanded and ordered and he could not hold against it.
“I can’t…get my majestic!” Devol cried and as common sense kicked in,
he stretched his hand out and attempted to summon it to him. It was one of
the tricks he had mastered, he believed, but with the heat and pain, he could
not focus.
“I can’t blink us out of here!” Jazai warned and squirmed in the fiery
serpent’s grasp. “It’s taking all my mana simply to fight against it.”
“I have…I have a way out,” Asla shouted and the boys immediately
looked at her. “I cannot promise I will be able to help after but I can do this
much.”
“Asla, what are you talking about?” Devol’s question got a response from
her in the form of action. Her anima flared again and the cat silhouette that
would appear around her body during intense fights began to solidify and
become more than a mere shadow. The snake seemed to weaken as she began
to push it apart. The form of a tiger or panther surrounded her now and it dug
its claws into the snake and ripped it apart. Asla snapped her head toward the
serpent’s, her fangs protruding, and bit the creature’s head, yanked it back,
and ripped it off. The rest of it disintegrated and released them to fall heavily.
“Asla!” Devol yelled and stared at where she lay unmoving on the
ground. Jazai went to examine her quickly and nodded to him that she was
breathing at least.
 “No!” The two turned to Salvo, who had begun to create a fireball. “No,
no, no!” The swordsman snatched Achroma up as the man fired volley after
volley at them. He knocked each fiery missile to the side or into the air. As
the fire magi prepared to launch a much larger fireball, he reared and held the
blade up, then swung it forward. It immediately brightened and created an
extended blade of light that cleaved through the infernal orb and struck
Salvo’s wand.
A loud crack heralded the shattered pieces of the red crystal that fell
around the man, and a furious, pained scream followed. As the fireball
erupted to scatter fire around the area, blood spilled from under Salvo’s mask
and a large wound stained his shirt. Majestics were connected to their users
and their destruction was the owner’s pain. The man fell to one knee, his
breathing ragged, and for the first time in their fight, he truly looked
vulnerable. He turned to Devol and the mask began to pulsate again as the
features shifted into an expression of wrath.
“Jazai, you and Asla get out of here,” he said quietly and spun his sword.
“No way. I’m not leaving until I see this bastard fall.” Jazai replied
although he took a moment to look at the unconscious wildkin. Devol
realized that staying might be for the best at that moment.
“Then watch over her,” he requested, drew a deep breath, and readied his
sword. “I will end this.”
Salvo uttered another angry yell and smacked his wand into the ground.
Even without the crystal, a column of flame erupted around him. Jazai
summoned a shield as the swordsman held his blade up and occasionally
deflected errant blasts of fire.
“He’s losing it!” the diviner shouted and strengthened his shield. “Way
more than he has already.”
“I can’t fight him at this range.” Devol began to move forward. “I need to
get in close!”
“Then take this!” Jazai tossed him a vial of the blue liquid he had poured
on himself. “It’s for magical burns. Pour some on your hands and lower arms
and you may be able to buy more time to get a good strike.”
Devol nodded, popped the top of the vial, and applied the liquid as
suggested. He tossed the vial aside and lunged toward Salvo, who now turned
to face him. The fire magi swung his wand and the column around him
spread wider. The boy planted his blade into the ground as he had seen Farah
do. He created a barrier in front of him that took the hit but the force was still
enough to almost knock him back if he hadn’t had such a tight hold on his
majestic.
Quickly, he yanked it out of the ground and continued his onslaught.
Salvo, at this point, merely slung his wand around almost as if it were a blade
to cast random fireballs and blasts of flame in his direction. The young
swordsman dodged easily or parried most of these until he finally moved
close enough for him to charge his blade and make a desperate move to end
this by driving it into his adversary. But before it could connect, a massive
wall of fire formed in front of the psychotic magi and held his blade in place
as it formed into the same crystal-like form as the snake earlier.
The boy was able to pry his sword out of the fire and he jumped back.
The serpentine shape wavered and shifted into what he had stared at during
this entire fight. He grimaced as it took on the form of the demon mask,
although this one had an open maw where orbs of fire danced within.
A voice spoke but it did not sound like Salvo’s. Instead, the dark, grave
voice that had seemed to underpin the fire magi’s speech took control,
although it was now loud and cavernous. It echoed the words from the pages
of Jazai’s tome…consume, consume, consume. As Devol stared at the fiery
recreation of the malefic, he felt for a brief moment that the dark desire might
come to pass.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y- O N E

Farah smashed the pommel of her blade into the face of one of the fiends and
raised a shield hastily as two others attempted to strike her from behind. She
turned and cut through them before she flipped her blade and drove it through
the attacker behind her. “How much longer, Wulfsun?”
“I almost have it!” the Templar shouted. The rift had narrowed to such an
extent that he could grasp it with his actual gauntlets. He looked at a fiend
that tried to force itself through the shrinking portal and with a grimace, he
lifted his leg and stamped his boot on it to knock it back. “Get out of here,
you annoyin’ inkblot!”
“The barrier is shrinking again,” Farah announced when she noticed the
edges continue to close in around her. She kicked another of the beings into it
before she thrust her enchanted sword through it. The blow eliminated the
fiend but also cracked the barrier. “Hells! It’s weakening too.”
“I only need a few more minutes,” Wulfsun promised. “Once I collapse it
enough, I can make the ward It won’t take but a jif.”
“Will that also take care of the dome?” she asked as she looked around
her. The fiends had finally been worn down enough that they no longer
regenerated.
“The ward will reverse the magic and keep the rift closed, and abyssal
magic will either disperse or be reabsorbed into its realm,” the Templar
explained and pulled the edges of the rift closer with the gauntlets of his
majestic. “We need to destroy those obelisks as well and keep fragments to
see if we can determine where they came from.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? The fiends seem to be gone for now,”
she told him, although she refused to put her sword away for the moment.
 “Aye, you can start making the ward.” Wulfsun grunted and strained to
seal the last sections of the rift. “Take the powder out of my satchel and make
a ring around the rift.”
Farah ran up behind him and paused when she saw three satchels. “Which
one?”
“In a flask…the satchel above the left cheek,” the man snapped and his
gauntlets grew brighter as he clenched his teeth. “Hurry! I want to get back to
the kids.”
She found the flask, opened it, and ran quickly around the rift, leaving a
trail of the powder behind her. “When yer done, I need you to create a shield
to protect us from the fire. I need to drop my barrier to focus on containing
the rift while I finish the ward. Do you have enough mana left for that?”
“I do,” she assured him, reached the end of the circle, and hurried to his
side with the flask ready. “Tell me when.”
Wulfsun nodded and opened his palms as the rift condensed even further.
He maneuvered around it and shaped it into an orb the size of a grapefruit.
“All right, I’m preparing to drop my barrier. You’re up!”
Farah held her sword aloft and a stream of light magic poured out and
formed around them as his barrier fell. He created a small barrier around the
rift itself and took the flask out again as he backed away slowly. The magics
of the rift thrust against his shielding. Quickly, he set to work finishing the
ward and hurried as much as he could without making a mistake. Wards
weren’t his specialty, which made it a little more challenging. He took a
moment to look at the fiery wall around the edges of the pit. It had been a
while since he had spoken to any Astral, but he took a moment to threaten
Finis and demanded that he not take the young ones. Otherwise, he would
have to talk to him personally.

Devol showed no fear to his enemy, but it did no good. Salvo probably
couldn’t even see him through the inferno he had created. A torrent of flame
streamed out of the mask and the boy turned his blade so the flat side faced
forward and created a shield. The fire was relentless and pushed him back
with its onslaught. The shield began to evaporate and he prepared to leap out
of the way before it gave out completely. He jumped and expected to be
scalded before a blue shield appeared as his gave way.
“Jazai!” he shouted, landed on his feet, and turned as the diviner’s shield
was smothered. His friend was on his knees with an arm extended. “Thank
you, but you and Asla need to get out of here.”
“I know…dammit!” Jazai muttered and fumbled in Asla’s pocket to take
her marble out. “That was the last of my mana. I barely have enough to be
useful but you need to go too.”
“I can’t, not as long as—”
“Devol, look out!” The swordsman spun as several fireballs streaked
toward him. He blocked a couple of them but one caught him in the chest and
set his jacket and shirt on fire. Hastily, he stripped them off and checked
himself for wounds. Slight burns were visible on his chest and stomach but
could have been much worse without his anima.
As he checked his waist, his hand touched an item he had forgotten about
—one that gave him pause. He looked at the demonic visage in the fire-wall.
“Jazai, I need to end this.”
“Wulfsun will take care of him,” the diviner protested. “Can you even get
around him to—” Devol drew the item from his waist and held it behind his
back for his friend to see. The boy understood almost immediately. “If you’re
gonna try that, you’d better make it count,” he muttered as he retrieved his
marble and held it in his hand. “We’ll be waiting.” Jazai poured mana into
both marbles and his and Asla’s forms vanished into a stream of mana that
quickly moved through the dome.
“They can’t run away!” Salvo shouted. The fire-wall parted and the man
walked through. “I’ll find them again after I deal with you. I will kill you all.”
At least he was now speaking in complete sentences again.
The boy stood and pointed his majestic at the fire magi. “You aren’t
leaving here, Salvo.”
“Make your boasts,” the man all but growled and whipped the fires
around him into a frenzy. “Have you even killed a man before, brat? I’ve
killed hundreds. Do you think I’ll simply let you cut your teeth on me? I have
a new world to see.”
Devol made no answer as he slid his hand behind him. The fire magi
prepared to send all the flames forward but the boy flung a dagger before he
could do so. Salvo didn’t need the enhancements from the mask to dodge it.
He simply tilted his head to the right and let it sail past. He chuckled at what
he considered a foolish final attempt to wound him.
 But as he launched the massive waves of flames at the young Templar
trainee, the boy disappeared. Salvo shuddered and turned when he felt a
presence behind him. His adversary reappeared and before his feet even
touched the ground, he struck out with his blade. Salvo snarled defiance and
gathered the fire for another attack, but Achroma sank deep into his chest.

“Only a little longer!” Wulfsun shouted and placed his hands on the edge of
the ward. “I’m activating it now.” It glowed and turned the yellow of his
mana. He dropped the protective shield around the rift and it began to
stagnate and no longer pulsed with magic, although something dark flowed
into it from above. He looked at a thin line of abyssal magic that came from
the very top of the dome. It was able to funnel into the rift even through
Farah’s shield, and the strand continued to grow as the flow moved faster.
“It’s done!” he shouted and turned to the guard captain. “The abyssal magic
is returning to its realm. We need to go.”
“What about the rift?” she asked and pointed in alarm. “It’s opening
again.”
The Templar turned and realized that it had indeed begun to open, but it
was not growing. “The ward will keep it contained. We need to destroy the
obelisks but it opened to absorb the magic coming in.” He gestured around
them. “Drop the shield and let’s go.”
Farah released her barrier and pointed to the top of the pit. “Those fires
above are getting weaker.” Wulfsun noticed that the once-raging flames had
begun to shrink and flickered weakly. Something had happened above.

Devol moved to pull his blade out of Salvo but the man stumbled back and
removed the blade himself. He looked at the wound and shook visibly, either
in shock or rage. The boy held Achroma in one hand, breathing heavily, and
he grimaced at the blade coated by his adversary’s blood.
The fire magi began to chuckle and looked slowly at him. “A nice…hit,”
he muttered and coughed. Fresh drops of blood came from beneath the mask,
“How does it feel? To kill a man?” The boy did not answer and simply gazed
at him with contempt, although there was a brief flicker of concern that set
the maniac off. “Relish it! Don’t you balk now, coward!” he screamed and
the voice of the mask fell away. “Do you think I’m the worst this realm has to
offer? You had best get used to this if you dare to stand up to him.”
“To who?” Devol demanded. “Who are you working for?”
Salvo lurched forward but stopped himself and began to laugh again. “It
doesn’t matter. I won’t see the new world but neither will you.” With a
shaking hand, he began to point his wand at the boy, who did not respond by
lifting his blade. Instead, he dropped it, rushed forward, and focused the rest
of his mana on vis as he balled his fist. He drove it into the mask and the
blow catapulted the man back. Fragments of the mask shattered and
splintered off.
The fire magi fell through the fires around the pit as Wulfsun and Farah
leapt up. They spun as he passed them and Devol ran to the edge and watched
as he fell into the bottom of the pit and directly into the portal. The man
reached a hand up as the rift seemed to yawn hungrily and the bottom half of
his body sank immediately into the rift. A chunk of the mask was destroyed
and revealed one eye that showed, anger, confusion, and fear.
As Salvo slid into the abyss and it shrank behind him, the Templar
pointed to the obelisks, whose runes were now blank. “Farah!”
“I’m on it.” She picked her sword up, enchanted it with light, and swiped
at the air to create a magical projectile that cut one of the obelisks in half. She
swung her arm and destroyed the other, which shattered and spat pieces in
every direction. “Devol, you have your marble, right?”
He checked his pants pocket and took it out. “I do,” he said as Wulfsun
retrieved his as he stooped to take something off the ground.
“We need to leave. Use it,” she ordered and immediately disappeared in a
flash of mana.
Devol looked at his mentor, who nodded to him with a solemn
expression. “Come on, lad. We should talk.” With that, they activated their
marbles as the dome continued to shrink and the magics returned to their
rightful dimension.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T WO

When Wulfsun and Devol escaped the dome, they were greeted by corpses
and fire. “Aw, hells.” The Templar grunted and scowled regretfully at some
of the fallen. “I should have realized.”
“Wulfsun!” Farah shouted and gestured for him to join a small group.
“There are survivors.”
“I’ll be right there.” He placed a large hand on the boy's shoulder. “You
did good, lad. I’ll talk to you in a moment but you should check in with your
friends, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and looked for Jazai and Asla. They were farther
down the field near the hills and he rushed to them. The diviner was tending
Asla’s wounds. “Hey, are you guys all right?”
The other boy nodded silently at first before he looked briefly away from
his work. “Did you get him?”
Devol drew a deep breath and nodded. “I did.”
“What happened?” Asla asked when she saw the burns on his body. “Are
you all right?”
“I’ll be fine after I see a healer,” he assured them and traced a hand over
his wounds. “As for what happened, I was able to get around him.” He took
the dagger out. “Using Rogo’s gift, I was able to get a hit.” He placed a hand
carefully on his chest. “Right through his chest.”
“Did you get the heart?” Jazai inquired as he stared at his friend’s blade
and noted the drying blood.
Devol fell back a little in surprise. “As in…ripped it out?”
“What? No! I mean, did you—” He stopped and sighed as he shook his
head. “Never mind. I’m only making sure he’s dead.”
 “Well, he was bleeding badly.” The swordsman sat next to his friends,
took his sheathed sword off his back, and placed it beside him. “And the
sword ran him through. After that, I knocked him into the rift.”
“You knocked him into it?” Asla asked, her voice still a little faint as she
attempted to sit.
Devol looked at his hand. “It wasn’t my plan but he attempted to attack
me and… Well, I hit him with enough power to push him into the pit and he
fell into the rift as Wulfsun and Farah finished shutting it.”
“Trapped in the Abyss?” Jazai looked at the dome, which was now not
even a fourth of the size it had been when they first arrived. “I would prefer a
body, but there ain’t a chance he can make it out of that. Even if he had a
marble or something to teleport to our realm, they don’t work in the Abyss.
At least, that’s what Zier told me.”
“So, it’s over then?” Asla asked and her gaze settled on the dome. “We
won?”
The swordsman gave her a wide and very tired grin as he stood. “Yeah,
we did. We helped close the rift and we were able to…to…” He wavered and
his sight grew blurry for a moment. He stumbled and Jazai began to stand to
steady him. Devol held a hand out to stop him, then placed it on his face and
wiped the sweat off. He felt dampness around his eyes and realized they
stung. For some unaccountable reason, he was tearing up.
These were tears of happiness, right? They had accomplished their
mission, everyone was all right—injured but alive—and yet… He looked at
the bodies of the scholars, guards, and soldiers burned by Salvo on his way
inside. The fire magi had said that he had killed hundreds during his life. He
was not a good person and was as much a monster as any Devol had fought
or slain up to this point, But as his tears began to flow more freely and
created tracks down his face, he looked at his blood-soaked majestic.
Asla waved someone over as Jazai stood and walked closer to him.
“Devol, what’s wrong?”
“I…I don’t…” he stammered and rubbed the tears from his face. “I don’t
know. G-give me a minute.”
“Asla, Jazai, how are ye?” Wulfsun asked as he strode up to the group.
“Good job holding off that bastard and making it out. Do you need—” Asla
stopped him with a shake of her head and pointed at Devol.
The Templar needed no explanation. He merely nodded and moved to the
boy, who tried to dry his tears. “Hey, lad, come with me for a moment,” he
said and placed a hand gently on his back. The young swordsman nodded and
slid Achroma into its scabbard as they wandered to the other side of the hill.
The silence hung between them as they walked. Devol looked over his
shoulders at the small group of survivors. “Are they okay?”
Wulfsun noted the direction of his gaze and nodded. “Some have injuries
and a couple of the scholars are still in shock. None of them were prepared
for something that brutal.” He sighed and ran a hand through his wild mane
of hair. “Unfortunately, that’s the world we live in, though. There are many
bastards like fire magi out there.”
“Salvo,” he replied and focused on the dome, which was now about the
size of a house. The area it had possessed remained withered. “He was one of
the magi who attacked us during our mission in Rouxwoods.”
“I remember Vaust talking about him,” the Templar said quietly. “That
mask of his…was that a malefic?”
“Yes.” Devol stopped beside a group of bushes. “It was…alive, I think.
There was another presence in Salvo and he became more and more erratic as
we fought.”
“I’ve not seen it before but I’ve heard about it—the demon mask.”
Wulfsun folded his arms as he looked into the sky where dawn had begun to
break. “You know, the first time I ever heard about it was when it was used
in battle. A soldier and his squad were pinned down by a cult of some kind
causing trouble in Britana. During a raid, the soldiers were able to snatch the
mask, although they had no idea what it was.
“While they were under siege, a soldier put it on and he was able to wipe
out the cultists in a matter of a couple of minutes and saved his team.” He
sighed, closed his eye, and shook his head. “In the end, though, the mask
continued to call to him even after he took it off. He stole it from the same
military stronghold he had turned it in to only a week before. His body was
found a few months later in a cave, scrawny and pale. Locals from the village
near the cave said they heard odd screams at night, most likely from him.
They never recovered the mask after that.”
“Do you think Salvo killed him for it?” Devol asked as images of the
mask appeared in his mind.
“That is doubtful. Vaust said Salvo told him about how he got his wand
by stealing it from his master. The last time anyone had seen the mask was
more than a decade ago and he would have probably still been an apprentice
at the time. My guess is whoever he worked for had it done or did it
themselves.” He eyed the young magi with concern. “Did he say anything
about that, boyo?”
“Working with someone?” the boy asked and tried to recall. “Besides
Koli—the other thief from before— I can’t remember anyone else. But he
kept saying he would see a ‘new world’ or something like that.”
“A new world eh?” Wulfsun stroked his beard, his expression thoughtful.
“I’ve heard proclamations like that all too often in my time, and it is always
some nutter yelling it.” He looked at the young man whose face was still
forlorn and he sighed as he lowered his hand and knelt so that they were
similar in height. Gently, he turned to young magi toward him. “Tell me…
what are you feeling, lad?”
Devol looked at the abyss again. It was all but gone and the small
gathering on the hill paused to watch as the last of the anomaly was absorbed
into the portal before the rift disappeared.
“He’s gone for good now.” He drew his majestic and looked at the blood
on the blade. Absently, he fumbled in one of his pouches to find a cloth to
wipe it with but it must have fallen out during the fighting.
His companion deduced this, removed a soft gray cloth from his pouch,
and handed it to the boy, who took it and attempted to clean the blade. “I
shouldn’t be so bothered,” Devol muttered, his voice low and quiet. “He was
a killer and proud of it. His boast was that he came here to kill me, my
friends, you, Vaust…anyone—” He stopped wiping his weapon almost as
soon as he had begun and lowered his head. “And yet I can’t…I can’t stop
shaking now.”
Wulfsun studied the boy. Indeed, his hands shook although it was subtle.
Years of swordplay had driven the need for self-control into him, but he
could not stop this. The man placed a massive paw on top of his hands to
steady them and Devol realized that for all the fire he had recently dealt with,
he was cold.
“It is all right,” the Templar said and gave him a moment to breathe.
“Those of us who have been in battle for so long take the innocence we once
had for granted. I had hoped to prepare you myself for the actions you would
have to take in this profession.”
“I should have been ready,” the swordsman interrupted and his voice
cracked. “I was! I ran him through—he left me no choice!” He turned his
blade and drove it into the earth. “I had planned to be a guard and read stories
of knights and heroes who vanquished evil-doers with their might. I knew I
would have to do so myself, no matter what path I chose.” He tightened his
grasp on the hilt of his sword. “Why does this bother me? He was nothing
more than evil. He was—”
“Human,” Wulfsun said quietly to end his tirade. “That’s the thing,
Devol. Even with everything he was at the core, it can be easier to accept the
death of a monster that has scales and claws than one with flesh and a visage
like yours.” He stood and drew a deep breath. “I killed my first man—well,
first three—when I was about a year or so older than you. It was during a
scouting mission on some bandits that went tits-up. We weren’t even
supposed to confront them and had been ordered to report them to local
guards. But I guess I wasn’t built for stealth, even as a boy. In a way, I was
lucky. Not only was I trained all my life to fight like my life depended on it,
but I was so busy trying to fight within the chaos that it didn’t hit me until it
was all over.”
Devol nodded and rubbed his eyes. “I feel the same way. It wasn’t until I
saw him sink into that portal that I truly understood what I had done.”
The Templar folded his arms, his expression one of understanding. “In
the end, I threw myself into my training and snuck some alcohol in from time
to time, but I didn’t let it linger. I don’t recommend that, however. It led me
to be…not myself for a while.” He straightened, took a few steps in front of
the boy, and turned to him. “Devol, you must understand that neither I nor
anyone in the order wants to force this life upon you. You have been a great
help and will do incredible things no matter where you go. If you need to find
another—”
“I will not.” As he looked at his mentor with determination in his eyes,
Devol said, “I am—will be—a Templar. I know this will not be the last time I
will have to strike down other magi like myself, but I will not let that stop
me. I know I can do…I can help more here than anywhere else. I believe
that.”
Wulfsun considered this a for a moment before he placed a large hand on
his shoulder. “I’m glad you feel that way, lad, but I know it hurts. Your first
kill will always be something that shakes your foundation. But understand the
fact that you can care about someone like him—an evil magi who wished to
do you and your friends harm—and still choose to confront him and do what
needed to be done. That is a strength that it takes most people years to come
to terms with, if they ever do. I’m proud of you, boyo. You did well.”
Devol nodded and a few tears spilled as he smiled a little less shakily.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Is everything all right?” Asla asked as she and Jazai joined them. “Farah
is asking for you, Wulfsun.”
The Templar nodded. “She probably needs me for her report. I’m praying
to the Astrals that she won’t make me talk to her boss again.” He sighed and
scratched his chin. “I’ll go and deal with that and hopefully, we can find an
inn and get some rest before we return to the order hall.” He took a few steps
away but paused for a moment to turn to them and smile. “You all did well.
Thanks for watching my back.”
“Of course,” Jazai responded with a weary but earnest grin. “I wouldn’t
want to be the one to have to explain to Zier why you didn’t make it back.
He’d find a way to blame me for it.”
Wulfsun laughed and continued his walk to Farah. “I wouldn’t worry
about that,” he quipped over his shoulder. “He’ll be too busy coming up with
chores for you to pay it much mind.”
The diviner shrugged as watched the giant man. “He’s not wrong.” He
shook his head and turned his attention to Devol. “All right, tell the truth this
time. Are you all right?”
The swordsman shook his head, pulled Achroma out of the ground, and
rested it over his shoulder. “Yes…yes, I am.” He looked at both of his friends
gratefully. “Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have handled him on my
own.”
“No kidding.” Jazai looked at his burn marks and sighed. “I gotta be all
nice about this. I honestly intended to give you an earful about making me
leave you behind.”
“You did?” Devol asked. “Jazai, that wasn’t because I thought you
couldn’t handle it. Besides, you said yourself you were low on mana.”
“I know, that’s why I’m not all that pissed about it.” He sighed and
placed a hand on Asla’s shoulder. “Honestly, we would have been done for if
it wasn’t for Asla’s little trick back there.”
“Right,” he agreed when he recalled the form she had taken. “What was
that, Asla? Some part of your majestic?”
The wildkin nodded. “It allows me to tap into my more animalistic side if
I concentrate and increase the ability by overcharging my anima, and it
almost allows me to shapeshift in a way.” She frowned slightly. “Although it
has its drawbacks, as you saw. I wasn’t much good in the fight afterward.”
“Trust me. You did your part,” Jazai assured her.
 Devol thought about that moment in the fight. “I couldn’t reach my
majestic and I couldn’t call it to me. There was nothing I could do.” He
smiled at her. “You saved us there, Asla.”
She turned away, a little bashful. “I’m glad I could—” Her eyes widened.
“Look!”
The boys turned their gaze to the bushes, where dozens of small, six-
petaled red flowers with crimson veins had begun to bloom. Jazai walked
closer and touched one. “Are these…”
“Bloodflowers.” Asla nodded. “They are in bloom.”
Devol looked down and realized that more flowers blossomed around
them, even through the scorched earth. “They bloom when one person has
killed another,” he stated and turned to look at her “That was the story,
right?”
She looked at the flowers, then slowly at him with concern in her eyes.
“Yes, but that’s only folklore, Devol.”
The wind picked up and petals began to scatter. Jazai stepped away from
the bushes. “Some of these are breaking apart.”
They all stood in silence as the petals filled the air. The sun was rising in
the east and the dawn light glimmered on some of the ascending petals. “I
hope it is more than folklore,” Devol replied and turned to them. “After all,
Asla, you said you liked the bloodflowers because they reminded you that
beauty could come from even dark moments, right?”
She stared at him for a moment, surprised that he recalled that. Jazai
folded his arms and smirked. She looked at the petals and smiled. “That’s
right. I do believe that.”
“And I want to believe that too,” Devol replied, shifted his sword, and
replaced it in its scabbard. “From now on, it is something I will always
remember so I can carry on.”
A U T H O R N O T E S - M I C H A E L A N D E R LE
 APRIL 30, 2021

Thank you for not only reading this story but these notes as well.
So, I just got off a story call with an author, and we were discussing the
difference between accurate and enjoyable.
(This is for a story that has not come out yet.)
We are in the second book of the series, about twenty-two chapters out of
twenty-eight developed. The main protagonist and his two friends are having
trouble because the “big guy” is acting pompous and makes all the decisions.
I realized while reading the latest chapters that I’m getting to the point
where I’m, like, “You know what? Go ahead and be a @%@!#% and just die
already.”
Not the right way to feel about the main character.
So, the author and I jumped on a call to hash it out. She made a good
point. Her husband is ex-military, so she is very aware of how it might go
with someone who mimics the main character in real life.
Unfortunately, actions that are plausible and highly likely to occur can be
annoying to read about.
At least, if you don’t provide enough realization to the main character
(read “annoying jerk”) to allow us to emphasize with their decisions. It took
us about fifteen minutes to figure out how we could implement the reality of
the main character’s actions while not making him a total a##hole at the same
time.
The learning moment for me was a realization that what I was feeling was
a discussion point related to the story from enjoyment and the publishing
side, which is: If it isn’t enjoyable, we are unlikely to sell the next story in the
series.
 Many authors I’ve met over the years don’t stop to consider the
enjoyment aspects of their stories. If a character is a jerk, or is one-
dimensional, or kicks dogs (I don’t suggest this), most readers are going to
close the book and grab the next one (not that author’s).
As a reader, if I wanted more reality, I could get that without getting lost
in a book.
There are whole tropes where the main characters are jerks and sell very
well. In romance, there is a trope called “jerk with a heart of gold.” The
purpose of the story is the female lead will uncover and allow the heart of
gold to shine forth. You can’t very well accomplish a great change if they
aren’t a jerk to begin with.
The Empire of Man series by David Weber and John Ringo starts with a
main character who is a spoiled prince. Mind you, there are reasons he’s a
jerk. It is justified.
But had I read book 01 first, I never would have gone far enough to enjoy
his turnaround. It so happens I read book 02 in the series, where he was
already a good guy. I went back to read book one, and it was a struggle to
deal with his crass behavior even when I knew how it turned out.
I’m just one of those readers who can’t enjoy that type of scene.
We did solve the challenge with the story by weaving in a few more
aspects of why he was acting the way he was. It allowed us to show a bit
more of his humanity during jerk moments, and I believe it will carry the
reader along to the natural conclusion where the relationships are all worked
out.
Which is good. I like the character and really didn’t want to be good with
him dying.
Just to be clear, this particular issue wasn’t a challenge with the co-author
on this book.
I hope you have a fantastic week, or weekend, or holiday…or night if it’s
time to sleep!

Ad Aeternitatem,

Michael Anderle
THE OBLIVION TRIALS
THE ASTRAL WANDERER BOOK THREE
 CHAPTER ONE

The night sky around the Emerald Forest crackled as blue and red lights
flared from torches and cobalt lanterns. These were held by a party of forest
rangers who searched the area in a determined and well-orchestrated hunt for
a trio of bandits who had attacked a traveling magi only a short while before.
They had struck the man on the head and begun to pilfer his belongings when
one of the rangers stumbled on the scene.
When the brigands fled, she summoned her comrades to hunt them while
she took the injured magi to a healer. They covered ground quickly and the
more time passed, the more rangers joined the hunt. Unfortunately for them,
however, the area they searched was not even remotely close to the thieves.
They had been misled by a simple trick. One of the bandits used pre-placed
curios that emitted sounds to lead their pursuers down the wrong path, while
they ran deeper into the center of the forest where they could hide safely until
the search was called off.
“Hells, they arrived quickly,” Leno muttered and peered over his shoulder
as he and his brothers in thievery finally found a place to rest. “Don’t they
have better things to do? Wasn’t some big nasty wolf discovered around here
some months ago? They still haven’t found a den.”
“Quiet!” Hodder, the leader of the group, snapped. “If yer squawking
brings them our way again, we’ll leave you as the distraction!”
“Shall we check the goods, Hodder?” Barter—who had devised their
curio trick—asked. “We got a couple of shiny things off him but I wasn’t
able to get a good look at most of it.”
The leader mulled it over for a moment before he nodded “Aye, we might
as well make sure we return to camp with something worthwhile. We’ve been
sittin’ around here for more than a week and the first bastard we find who
looked like he had something good almost gets us caught. I’d rather have
something to show for it than get yelled at if we return with nothing more
than knick-knacks,”
“Do you think the boss would seriously take our thumbs?” Leno
shuddered. “That’s what he said he’d do if we didn’t get nothin’ good, right?”
Hodder shrugged and pointed to the bags, and Barter nodded and dumped
the contents out. “I don’t see why he would lie. He’s certainly done worse
than that to others who pissed him off.” He smiled as the three began to go
through their haul and identified the shiny things already mentioned—a
couple of rings and a necklace, probably worth a full cobalt coin together.
Leno looked through a satchel of vials filled with liquids and powders.
Depending on what was inside, it could be worth a few splinters or possible
shards.
“Hey, look at this.” Barter unrolled a scroll and something fell out of it.
He placed it on the ground while Hodder picked up the fallen item and
studied it in the dim light of the moon. It appeared to be some kind of signet,
very dark in color, and seemed to disappear in his hand when he lifted it to
the night sky.
In the middle was an etching of some kind of animal, but none he was
familiar with. The bird depicted had four wings and an odd protrusion on the
head—maybe a horn of some kind. Then he realized it had no beak but had
pointed ears, which made him think it was some breed of bat instead.
Whatever it was, it appeared to be a token or marker, perhaps to show
allegiance to a certain house? Unless he could find a collector for such things,
the value would be nothing more than a few bits. He couldn’t even determine
what it was made of.
“Look at this.” Barter pointed to lines on the map. “Was he keeping track
of where he was going? There are lines all over this.”
“I don’t know.” Hodder passed the signet to him. “It might have
something to do with this since it fell out of there. Have you got any idea
what that is?”
“It’s the entry token for the trials.”
He looked up quizzically. “The trials? What trials, Leno?”
Their third teammate looked around before he glanced at the other two
and shook his head. “That wasn’t me.”
“Eh?” Hodder grasped the handle of his ax and scanned the trees. “Is
someone here?” he asked. He wanted to yell but feared attracting more
rangers if one of them had somehow discovered them already. “Barter, do
you see anything?” He extended a hand to grasp the man’s shoulder but only
swiped at air. “Barter?”
Leno took a torch out, lit it, and held it up. Their comrade had vanished.
“Barter? Where did he go?”
“Quiet.” his leader growled warningly and straightened. “He probably
went to check the area. No one could get to him when he was right next to
us.”
The other man trembled a little in worry but nodded. He stood beside his
leader and took his club out, still caked with the traveler’s blood, and they
walked the perimeter in search of their comrade.
Hodder retrieved another torch, struck a match, and ignited it. He wished
the naked flame could be held close enough to his chest to hopefully not give
their position away, but they would simply have to hope for the best. When
he paused for a moment to listen, he didn’t hear anything.
Even though he was sure Barter couldn’t have been snatched or killed
when he was so close, he also knew he wouldn’t simply run off without
saying anything. He turned to Leno to make sure he didn’t wander too far,
only to see him standing in front of a large tree with his torch held well above
his head.
He pressed his lips together, strode forward, and grasped the oaf by his
neck. “What in the hells are you doing?” he seethed. “Do you want to be
seen? That fire might as well be the sun in this darkness.”
The man did not respond and seemed transfixed by the tree branches
above. Hodder heard a dripping sound, looked down, and frowned at the odd
blobs of red that coated the dirt path beside his boots. He looked up slowly to
where Leno was gazing and his jaw slackened.
They had found Barter. His body lay on one of the branches and his face
looked down at them, his mouth agape and eyes wide in shock. A gaping
wound in his throat dripped blood onto the branch and from there to the
forest floor.
“That map.” The voice spoke again and Leno, surprised, was jostled out
of his shocked state. He dropped the torch onto the dirt as held his club up.
“That map probably indicates the site of the trials or at least has crossed off
some areas where it is not located.”
“Where are ya?” Hodder hissed his outrage and held both his torch and ax
up. “Come on out.”
“How about you get out?” the voice replied and its tone changed from
low muttering to include a trace of venom. “I had my eye on that magi for a
while now. I was gonna let him do all the leg work for me before I took what
I needed. Then you louts went and bashed his head in before he was
finished.”
“Hodder, is it some kind of phantom?” Leno asked and his panicked gaze
darted from side to side.
“Don’t be a fool,” he snapped. “Start spouting that superstitious nonsense
and you will seriously go crazy. No phantom can do that to Barter.”
The voice responded with a dry laugh. “You say that like it makes things
better for you,” A rush of air billowed past the two bandits. They turned and
Hodder held his torch higher but saw nothing. “This is your last chance. Get
out of here and leave the goods. If you want to make it out—”
“No deal, you bastard,” His hold on his ax tightened and the wood almost
began to snap from the strain. “I don’t give a damn if that was supposedly yer
mark. You should have reached him sooner then. If you want what we
rightfully stole, come and claim it if you got the balls.”
Something warm and wet splashed on his head. He stepped back and
shook it off, and when he ran a hand through his hair and looked at it, he
knew it was blood. The two bandits turned sharply toward a loud scraping
sound nearby.
A wooden pike made from what appeared to be a carved branch had been
planted beside their stolen goods. Barter’s head was placed at the top. Both
men looked reflexively at the branch above and confirmed that the body was
still there but the head was missing. Hodder realized whose blood he had
been drenched with.
Leno was utterly panicked by now and he began to bolt away as he
uttered frightened gasps and yelps.
The leader tried to stop him but he was too slow. “Don’t run off, you
idiot!” he shouted. He’d let his guard down fully and no longer cared about
being heard. At this point, he was certain that whoever was trying to trap
them was no ranger and he would far rather deal with them than an invisible
and certainly murderous foe.
Leno did not listen and he moved fast for being the biggest among them.
He was soon out of the torchlight. Hodder was barely able to make him out
among the trees before he simply dropped through the forest floor, no doubt
into a pit trap.
He hurried in pursuit and stopped a few paces short of where the man had
fallen but saw no hole or ropes or anything like that. It was as if his comrade
had simply disappeared. He took a few cautious steps back and whispered
Leno’s name. Inevitably, fear had begun to creep in and he stuttered slightly.
Through his fear, his mind insisted that he needed to get away. This attacker
was obviously a magi and he couldn’t deal with his kind of crazy without
backup.
As he turned to run, a heavy object fell on top of him. It crushed his torch
and knocked the wind out of him, but he was otherwise unharmed. When he
pushed it off, he heard a weird gurgling sound. He looked down at what had
landed on him and realized it was Leno. The man’s throat had been slit like
Barter’s had but he still clung to life and reached out to him, his eyes wild
and his face streaked with blood.
Hodder kicked him off and raced to their loot. He swung his ax wildly
around him, determined to not let this bastard kill him like he had the others.
It was a relatively short distance to the valuables but he knocked the pike
over in his rush. He fell to his knees and gathered as much of it together into
a pile as he could.
Unfortunately, he could only take one bag and would have to leave the
rest. He snatched one of the sacks and opened it but a hand holding a large
dagger lashed out from inside it. The brigand shrieked as the blade thrust
toward his eye.
 C H A P T E R T WO

“Hey, hey—watch the face!” Jazai jumped back as Freki pushed forward and
swiped at him with his claws. “Zier, did you make some kind of deal with
him?”
“Nonsense, Jazaiah,” the scholar assured him and tilted his head as he
studied his apprentice’s cantrip work. “You are training for one of the most
difficult tests of your life. If you go there with such a shoddy performance,
even your father would understand why you died.”
“So you wanna play like that, huh?” The young magi placed his hands on
the ground. “Pulse!” The earth shook and many of the arena’s tiles cracked
and erupted spectacularly. Freki crouched before he launched himself high to
avoid the attack. “Gotcha.”
Jazai smirked and held onto his right hand which was adorned with his
cantrip rings. He activated the one on his middle finger and fired another
pulse, which blasted all the tiles like shrapnel at the wildkin warrior.
Freki spun, snatched the two-handed ax from his back, and charged it
with his green mana. He whipped the blade across his body to launch a pulse
using only his mana and the force of his swing. These combined were
sufficient to hurl the projectiles away and he followed up by throwing his
weapon like a green streak directed at the apprentice.
The boy sighed and blinked away from the attack to the west side of the
arena, but the ax continued toward him once he reappeared. He extended his
hand hastily and pointed with his ringed index finger, and a shield formed in
front of him. The ax struck the shield and split it apart, and the force
generated from the impact was enough to knock him back a few feet and out
of the arena, where he crumpled in the dirt.
 “Are you all right, Jazai?” Freki called as he landed and moved forward
to collect his ax.
Zier blinked onto the arena and retrieved the weapon. “Don’t coddle him
now, Freki,” he muttered, levitated the ax casually, and sent it to his owner.
“His opponents in the trials certainly won’t.”
“How many of them are Templars with more than three decades of
training?” The young diviner coughed and shook his head as he pushed to his
feet and dusted his robes off. “How did you know where I would appear?”
Freki went to speak but Zier held a hand up to stop him. “You should be
well aware of that, Jazaiah,” he responded acerbically and pointed to the
place the boy had blinked to. “In your hurry, you did not control your mana
output.”
Jazai looked where he indicated and frowned at the faint wisps of his
mana. “So I made a trail, dammit.” He sighed and scratched his head. “Still,
blinking is fast. How many guys can see where I’ll go and react in time to do
any damage?”
“It only takes one to be fatal.” The dryad scoffed and Freki touched his
shoulder and pointed to the far path from which he had watched the skirmish.
Grand Mistress Nauru had appeared and now observed them. “Let Asla have
another chance,” he ordered and turned to head toward their leader. “Think
about your mistakes and how to improve in the meantime. You can start by
not relying on those rings so much.”
“Ever my rock of support, Zier.” The young magi sighed and waved for
the young wildkin to join them as he looked at his opponent. “I gotta give
you your due. Most warrior magi aren’t great against casters, much less are
able to pressure them like you do.”
Freki laughed. “Then you haven’t run into many good warriors.” He
rested his ax over his shoulders and stretched his arms around it. “Don’t get
me wrong. I’m certainly good but any warrior knows that if they are serious
about the craft, dealing with ranged opponents is where you bust your ass
during training. Any of them who gets bent out of shape when facing one
ain’t worth their weight.”
“Okay, that’s a fair point.” The boy folded his arms and nodded to Asla.
“How long are you gonna be with her?”
The wolf wildkin looked at his apprentice. “I’ll let her warm up a little
more,” he decided before he nodded at him. “You be ready. I’ll call you in
faster than you probably expect.”
 Jazai watched him leave and looked at the rings on his fingers before he
clenched his hand into a fist. “Great.”

“Grand Mistress,” Zier said politely, took his place at her side, and turned
toward the arena. “What brings you out here?”
“To observe the young ones, the same as you,” Nauru responded. Both
watched as Asla bowed to Freki and they prepared for their bout. “They’ve
been training for almost a month now. What do you think of their progress?”
“It could always be better,” Zier stated bluntly and folded his arms as
Asla struck immediately at Freki with her claws. The elder wildkin dodged
the attack easily. “Although I must admit I am amazed at how quickly they
grow and mature. Even after their missions, I worried that they may still be
too green. While they still are to some extent, their instincts and prowess both
seem to improve day by day when they should be near collapsing by now.”
The grand mistress nodded and the light in her eyes dimmed slightly.
“What do you believe are their deficiencies?”
“For all of them, it is their skill with their majestics.” The scholar looked
at his apprentice, who was focused on the fight. “Jazai relies too much on his
cantrips and mana pool. In a way, I think he idolizes his father far too much.”
He chuckled when he thought of his old partner. “It is true that he is
potentially one of the most skilled casters in this realm, but Jeddah only
achieved that over many years of training since he was a boy.
“In fact, he and his son have almost reversed journeys. Jeddah was
trained for war and he became a scholar. Jazai was sent here to be a scholar
and he now trains to fight.” His gaze lingered on the tome strapped to the
boy’s waist. “He could get so much more use out of his majestic, but he has
yet to find a way to work in tandem with it. To him, it seems like nothing
more than a glorified reference guide.”
“And Asla?” Nauru questioned as the cat wildkin’s anima flared and took
the shape of its signature feral form when she dropped on all fours. “She
seems much more in tune with her majestic.”
“Indeed, but she limits herself, holds back its abilities almost like she is
afraid of it, and fights against it.” Zier traced the shape with a finger. “I heard
from Jazai that during their last mission, she tapped fully into the power but
was exhausted after a few seconds of use.” Asla began to dart around the
arena and Freki gave chase. “Before you ask, I know why she is hesitant to
use the majestic. I understand that it may be emotionally taxing but she has
decided on this path and holding back like she does will only lead to her
joining her kin prematurely.”
The grand mistress sighed but nodded in agreement. “I do wish you could
be a little less callous but you are right.” She lowered her hood and pulled her
hair forward. “But despite all that, do you think we should still let them
attempt the trials?”
“It is no longer up to us,” he reminded her. “They earned the right to do
so. We keep telling them we see them as comrades and equals. If we hold
them back because of our concerns, that would merely show that we think
less of them.”
She smiled faintly. “You are right again, Zier. I suppose once Vaust
returns, it is out of our hands.”
“So should I disappear for a little longer, then?” the mori asked and
surprised both the scholar and grand mistress. He offered them an easy smile
as he tipped his wide-brimmed hat. “Hello again.”
“Welcome back, Vaust,” Nauru greeted and composed herself quickly. “I
trust you were able to procure the signets?”
He held a hand up and between the spaces of each finger, he held a signet.
“All I had to do was turn the papers in. But given that our status with the
Council is still good despite how most others feel about us, we could have
simply asked.”
“Do you know where the trials are taking place this year?” Zier inquired.
“Of course I do.” The mori nodded and handed the signets to Nauru. “Not
that they would tell me, but it’s easy enough for me to determine.”
“Will you tell our candidates?” Zier questioned.
“Where would the fun be in that?” Vaust chuckled and the three turned to
watch the sparring between Asla and Freki. “I merely wanted to know so I
can follow them to see if they can get on the right path themselves. They
already have a head start as it is taking part in Renaissance this year.” He
scanned the arena and raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Where is Devol?”
“He will return tomorrow,” the grand mistress answered and tucked the
signets securely in her robe. “He wished to see his parents before he and his
friends departed for the trials.”
“I see.” He nodded and thought back to his experience at the trial. “It’s a
wise decision to have a moment of peace before possibly heading into
oblivion.”
 CHAPTER THREE

“Hey, Mother, do we have any more roast?” Devol asked as he picked his
plate up. It was almost clean with the exception of a smear of leftover gravy.
“Isn’t this your third plate, Devol?” Lilli Alouest asked as she handed him
the pot. “You’ve eaten today, haven’t you?”
“Of course.” He filled his plate quickly and set the pot aside. “But Father
made me run exercises with the guard recruits today and I worked up quite an
appetite.”
Victor Alouest chuckled and drained his beer. “You probably wouldn’t be
so famished if you hadn’t expended so much energy showing off.”
“You let him participate with the recruits?” Lilli filled the water cups
around the table.
“Of course.” The man looked teasingly at his wife. “What’s with that
concerned tone? You do know our boy is in the Templars now, don’t you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not daft, Victor, but isn’t it improper for a non-
recruit to participate in the classes?”
He placed a large arm on the table, held his hand up, and rested the side
of his head in it. “I’m one of the guard captains. What can they say? Besides,
it was good for both them and Devol. It was excellent training for…well, the
recruits, mostly, and probably more like exercise for him.”
The boy took a mouthful of his third serving of roast and grinned. “It’s
been a while since I’ve used a normal blade. But it felt almost no different
than using Achroma, except that they were shorter.”
“So you practiced with training weapons?” Lilli asked as she took her
seat again with a slow sigh. “Well, that’s a relief.”
It was Victor’s turn to roll his eyes this time. “Again, he’s with the—”
 “Well, it wouldn’t be fair for me to use my majestic against them,” Devol
responded and interrupted his father. “They only used truesilver blades—
standard-issue.”
His father looked at him askance but shrugged. “I should probably have
let you break the shiny blade out to give them a taste of what it’s like to fight
against one.”
“But that’s not what they do,” he pointed out and cut another mouthful of
meat with the side of his fork. “That’s the responsibility of you and the other
captains, isn’t it? You’re the ones who take on any foes or creatures with
advanced ability or items, right?”
Victor nodded, leaned forward, and folded his arms. “Indeed, but it
doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance that they might be caught by a foe with an
exotic or something of that nature. A guard has to be ready for anything.
While they should make a point to fetch me or one of the other captains or
knights, they may still need to hold such a threat off until we arrive.”
“I guess that’s fair,” the boy conceded and speared another piece of meat.
“Although I don’t think I would be the best candidate to demonstrate the
power of a majestic. I still don’t fully understand what Achroma can do yet.”
He sighed as he placed his utensils down. “I’ve had it for months now and I
have to admit that I’m starting to feel like an idiot.”
“Oh, come now, Devol,” his father chided. “Don’t start feeling sorry for
yourself. It took Elijah a long time to fully unlock the abilities of Achroma
and it wasn’t divided in two at that time.”
Devol shrugged but he felt slightly better about his predicament. Lilli
smiled reassuringly at him before surprise overtook her. “My goodness!” She
looked at the boy’s plate. “You just filled that.”
He looked down and when he realized that the contents of his plate were
gone, he grimaced in surprise. “Huh. I was hungrier than even I thought. But
it has also been a while since I’ve had your cooking, Mother.”
She smiled and shook her head. “They are feeding you at the Hall, aren’t
they?” she asked as she took his plate.
“Yep. Quite well, in fact.” He took a small sip of water. “I’m merely
enjoying it while I’m here. Sooner or later, I will head out on more and more
missions.”
“You have to earn your keep,” Victor said with a knowing smile. “But
with that portal outside the city, you can always drop by when you have the
time.”
 “Yes, sir,” Devol agreed. “But once I’m on missions, I’ll be gone more.”
“Do the missions take a long time?” his mother asked. “With that last
mission when you were here, it only took you a day or so to complete, right?”
“Well, we were lucky and it was close,” the young magi admitted. “Other
members of the Order went on similar missions and some took a couple of
weeks to finish. It varied depending on where they set off to as it took days
for some of them to reach the location.”
“My, that’s quite a way, but you’ll have the chance to see other
kingdoms, won’t you?”
The boy nodded. “Hopefully soon, but I have other things I have to finish
first. Besides, I’m fine learning more about Renaissance. I never realized how
little I’ve seen until now.” He took a moment to look out the window as a
couple passed the house under one of the amber-glowing streetlights.
“Speaking of which, how has Monleans been? Anything interesting, Pops?”
Victor shrugged. “Well, interesting things to many people have grown
rather normal to me so I suppose I’ll have to think about it. Beyond the end of
the year festival coming up, I can’t think of anything of note that has
happened recently.”
“Not even at work?” Devol pressed. “No funny stories or odd
happenings?”
“Odd happenings, eh? I guess there has been something like that.” He
leaned even farther over his large arms on the table. “There has been a rash of
thefts lately. Captain Zelas is particularly incensed about them since that
crime falls under his responsibilities but we’re all on the lookout for it.”
“Monleans is normally safe but thefts happen in all major cities,” he
commented. “Is there something weird about these thefts?”
His father nodded. “Some are the usual crimes—pickpockets and whatnot
—but there have been aggressive attacks against magi travelers, both leaving
and coming to the city,” He took a large swig of water and spun the cup.
“Very violent and a couple were fatal. Those who were found or reported
their thefts all mentioned that a similar item was taken—some kind of dark
signet with a four-winged creature stamped on it.”
“A dark signet?” The description was familiar to Devol. “Is that so?”
“So are you both finished?” Lilli asked as she stacked the plates. “Dessert
will be ready soon so I hope you saved space for that at least, Devol.”
“Of course,” he said with a smile and watched his mother hurry to the
kitchen before he turned to his father. “Hey, this signet—did the magi
mention what it was for?”
“They were very quiet about it, but it was obviously for the Oblivion
Trials,” Victor took another sip as his son stiffened in his chair. He studied
the boy curiously. “What’s the matter?”
“You know about the trials?” Devol asked and kept his voice down.
“You know about the trials?” his father repeated, placed his cup down,
and rested his chin on his fist. “I assumed your next question would be to ask
me what they were. They are something of an open secret for guys like me,
but it seems you already have some knowledge of them.”
The young magi realized that he had caught himself out but decided now
would be a good opportunity to see what his father thought about the matter.
“Yeah, if everything goes well in the next couple of days, I’ll be
participating. It’s one of the reasons I came to see the two of you again.”
Victor’s face began to change and slid from raised brows of surprise to
wide-eyed shock and finally, to glowering concern. “You will participate in
the Oblivion Trials?”
“Not only me. My friends Jazai and Asla will enter as well,” Devol
replied, although it almost came across as a childish plea. Despite the time
away, the stern tone in his father’s voice made him recall the times he had
chided him and refused to let him participate in one event or another for
being too reckless or because he was not yet old enough to do so.
It felt ridiculous, he had to admit. What was his concern? That his father
would put his foot down and stop him from going to the trials? That would
cause him to hang his head in shame at the Order.
The man considered this for a moment and finally nodded before he stood
and motioned the boy to do the same. “Lilli, hold off on the dessert for a
while,” he stated and moved to a cabinet.
Devol’s mother came from around the corner with a towel in her hands.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” Victor replied, his voice a little easier. “We
realized we ate more than we anticipated so we’ll go work it off for a little
while.”
She sighed but nodded. “You both have that habit. Try not to do anything
too strenuous. You’ll get cramps after eating so recently and the cake won’t
help matters.”
“No worries, darling. It’ll only be a short time. I’ll make sure Devol
doesn’t push himself trying to show off again,” the man promised and his
wife nodded and returned to the kitchen.
His face settled into the stony determination it had held moments before
as he opened the cabinet and removed two massive swords. The boy
recognized them immediately as the custom-made exotics he used on patrol.
“Let us head outside, son,” Victor said and slid the covered blades over
his shoulder. “We need a little bonding time and a chat.”
 CHAPTER FOUR

“Where’s your weapon, son?” Victor asked as he rested his swords against
the fence at the back of their home.
“Hmm?” Devol responded, a little distracted and unable to shift his gaze
from his father’s weapons. Most people did not name their exotics, unlike
majestics which typically had names after centuries of use. When he thought
about it, though, he realized that amongst the majestic users he knew, he
could only recall himself and Vaust having names for theirs, along with some
of the guards. And Salvo, of course, but he preferred not to think of him.
His father, however, was an exception to this. His swords—more along
the lines of claymores than standard-issue blades—had both been personally
named by him. Calcul was the large blade with a brown grip and darker metal
that he wielded in his left hand and Vent, wielded in his right hand, was made
of a bright metal that shimmered when it caught the light.
The magi had never sparred against his father while he used his blades.
Hells, anytime he had asked to see him use them, the man had always chided
him with the sharp reminder that they weren’t toys. Now that he faced them
without asking, a part of him wished to remind his father of his words.
“Your majestic, boy—Achroma. Where is it?” Victor asked again as he
drew both blades. They were large enough that he should wield one with both
hands but instead, he easily managed each in their specified grip.
“Oh, right—one moment,” Devol held a hand out and in a flash of light,
Achroma appeared in the air. He grasped it quickly by the hilt and held it in
front of him.
“Well, you can do things like that, at least,” his father observed and tilted
his head as he studied the blade. “That is something, you know.”
 “Yes, but to be fair, most majestic users can do something akin to it,” the
young magi admitted and eased his posture a little. “The majestics are linked
to their user in a more complete way than exotics. You can summon them to
you if they are close enough.”
Victor looked at the second story of the house and the window of Devol’s
bedroom where he had left his blade. “What about from miles away?” he
asked.
“Eh? I’m not sure,” he replied and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“Why would someone leave their majestic like that?”
His father shrugged. “They probably wouldn’t. I’m merely curious, I
suppose,” He lifted both his blades and took a stance. “Ready, Devol?”
The boy shifted quickly into his defensive position again. “Remember
that Mother asked us to not push ourselves too much.”
Victor breathed deeply through his nose. “Are you ready?”
Devol grimaced but nodded. Typically, he would be excited to train
against someone, even if they had a clear advantage over him or he did not
know what they could do. But most of his skill in swordsmanship came from
his father and he was well aware of what he could do, which made him more
tense than usual.
The man took a single step forward before he twisted, spun to his left, and
swung both blades toward the boy as one. The young magi lifted his blade
quickly and blocked the attack, but this wasn’t a strike meant to slash but to
crush. The force of the blows knocked him back and he stumbled a couple of
steps before he slid a few feet until he was only inches away from one of the
windows of the house.
He prepared to retaliate. Victor was strong but having wielded two large
swords like that and committed to a heavy attack still required considerably
more recovery time than a rapid strike from Devol. He had a small opening.
“Do you feel anything?” his father asked and lowered his blades to show
he had no intention to attack again. The boy paused and looked at him with a
trace of confusion. “You know how my exotics work. Do you feel anything?”
Devol frowned, looked at his blade, and lifted it slightly. Nothing seemed
out of the ordinary. He checked his hands and his arms but found no issues.
“I thought you were holding back since this is practice.”
“I was,” his father admitted. “But practice isn’t any good at all if we don’t
learn anything from it. Vent obviously won’t do anything, but I had hoped
Calcul would at least work against you.”
 Devol lifted his blade again. “I’m relieved to say it doesn’t look like it. I
was too preoccupied defending against you using your blades like clubs to
have considered it.”
“Smartass.” Victor chuckled and held his blades up defensively.
“Although not a smart practice in real combat. Now, you come at me and
attempt a few swipes.”
He did not need a second invitation and launched himself at his father to
strike vertically at first, then once from the left and once the right. The man
blocked them all with ease. He spun as his father had, seemingly to deliver a
similar heavy strike, but he was no fool.
Even with Vis, he didn’t have his father’s strength so any attempt to
knock him down wasn’t an option, but he did put enough force in to force his
guard up a tad and he followed it with a kick. Victor scoffed and simply
skipped away from his leg and jumped to the other side of the yard. “That
was fairly easy to read, son.”
“You taught me that move,” Devol protested in return. “You have an
advantage.”
The man smiled as he spun his blades and pierced them into the earth. He
looked down briefly and frowned again when he realized that Lilli would
probably not be thrilled with that. “So, anything?”
His son shook his head and lowered his guard. “I’m still fine.”
Victor scratched his beard. “Interesting,” He looked at Calcul. “It has no
effect, huh? Even separated into two, Achroma is as powerful as I remember
it being with Elijah,”
Devol paused at that and considered it thoughtfully. He rested the blade
against the fence behind him and walked closer to his father. “You worked
with him before, right?” he asked and the question immediately caught the
man’s attention. “Elijah, I mean. I know my birth mother was Mother’s sister
and that played a part, but he gave me to you because of your friendship,
right?”
The guard captain looked at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “He
wanted you to have something of a normal life. It wasn’t his fault that didn’t
work out.”
He laughed weakly and shrugged. “I’m asking because I would have
thought that in all that time with him, you would have a better idea of what
my majestic could do having seen it in action and all—or maybe he could
have told you.”
 Victor looked thoughtful and gestured for them to move to two chairs on
the other side of the yard next to the garden. “I don’t have a majestic.
Although I’ve seen them in action enough to get the gist, it’s not enough to
have a great knowledge of them. As for whether he told me anything about
them…well, he was always rather cryptic.”
“What is he like?” Devol asked and shifted a little to get comfortable.
“The Templars don’t talk about him much. They say he is not even around all
that often, but everyone who knows him seems to speak about him with some
kind of reverence.”
His father leaned back in his chair and nodded slowly. “Indeed, he is a
great magi—he is the Astral Wanderer, after all.”
“You’ve mentioned that before but I thought you were being
metaphorical,” he muttered and folded his arms. “The Astral Wanderer is a
very old story—thousands of years old. A magi chosen by the Astrals to be
their chosen guardian or avatar walked the world and later realms to define
them on their behalf. There is no way he can be that person. He was
considered part Astral himself since he was gifted their essence, so unless—”
His eyes widened and he grasped his father’s arm. “Is he part Astral? Am I
part Astral?”
Victor frowned and removed his arm slowly before raised his hand and
smacked the boy lightly on the back of his head. “No, boy, you are not ‘part
Astral.’” He snorted and uttered a low laugh as his son rubbed the back of his
head. “To your credit, it is metaphorical. Those who have seen him gave him
the title due to how he wields Achroma, which bathed him in an essence that
some have said looks like stardust. I have never seen stardust myself but it is
rather magnificent either way.” He looked at the sword. “I wish he had talked
about himself and his majestic more, but that’s simply the way he is.”
One of the windows to the house opened. “Are you two finished? I have
the cake in the oven to keep it warm but it could start to harden soon if you
don’t hurry.”
“We’ll be there in a moment, love,” Victor called in reply and took a
moment to look at his son. “We should be done for now. I merely wanted to
check to see if Achroma would defend you in my place at the trials.”
Devol stopped rubbing his head and focused on his father. “Then you are
all right with it?”
The man laughed loudly. “I can’t say I’m thrilled, but what warrior will
allow a little finger-wagging to stop them from pursuing a goal?” He paused
for a moment to look questioningly at his son. “Would you stop if I told you
to?”
“Um…no?” he responded, which earned him a pat on the shoulder.
“You are growing up, son.” His father beamed, stood, and helped him to
his feet. “Before we head in, I can say that Elijah told me something about
Achroma once—something that stuck with me.”
“He did?” the magi asked, excited. “What was it?”
Victor moved to his blades and pulled them out of the ground as Devol
extended his hand and teleported Achroma into it. “He said it was unusual
compared to most majestics, and not merely in the obvious way.” The guard
captain moved to his sheathes and slid his swords into them. “He said it did
not obey the commands of its user.”
“It doesn’t obey my commands?” A little bewildered, he looked at his
sword that glowed with a soft light. “But I—”
“Again, metaphors,” his father interrupted as he rested his swords over
his shoulders and walked to the back door with him. “He was talking about
its power and said it did not obey the user’s commands but listened to their
heart.”
Devol held the blade up with both hands. “What does that mean exactly?”
Victor shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest.” He smirked and patted him on
the back. “I guess it’s up to you to work it out, eh?”
The magi sighed but nodded. “It looks like it but I’m not sure if I feel
more confident or confused now.”
His father grinned wryly. “Hey, you are the one who asked.”
 CHAPTER FIVE

The following morning, Devol bade his parents farewell and hastened to the
anchor outside Monleans to return to the Order. The biting cold of the
mountain was even worse now that it was winter and he entered quickly.
He greeted a few others he saw inside, including Pete and Coko, who was
kind enough to tell him that his friends were currently in the training hall. She
smiled when he thanked her and he hurried to the large doors, pushed them
inward, and paused on the threshold. A small crowd had gathered around one
of the rings.
Curious, he approached the area and tried to ease politely through the
crowd to see what was going on. It was even more intriguing when he
realized they were watching Jazai and Asla—or rather their sleeping forms—
where they sprawled across from two large canine creatures. One was dark
and thin, while the other was far bulkier and had elongated ears.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Your buddies spent the entire night fighting those creatures,” He looked
up when a familiar squama approached.
“Acha, good morning,” Devol said as the Templar waved casually to him.
He pointed to the creatures. “What are those? I’ve never seen them around.
Are they someone’s pets?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Freki answered the question before he yawned
and waved to him. “They are my familiars, created using my majestic.”
“Majestic-created familiars?” he asked, folded his arms, and studied the
beasts. “What are they? They look like big dogs or wolves.”
“That is correct,” the wildkin confirmed as he moved to stand beside him
and turned toward the arena.
 “Which?”
“Both,” Freki grinned. “Or neither. It’s a little hard to explain.” He
pointed to the sleeping duo on the platform. “Do you want to get up there? I
was about to wake them.”
“Can I fight them too?” Devol asked and nodded to the creatures. “The
dogs…wolves…familiars?”
The wolf wildkin nodded and pointed to his neck and a white chain with
three paw-shaped stones on it. “Coincidentally, I can make up to three of
them. I hoped you would return soon so I could give them all a workout.”
“I get my own?” the magi asked and smiled as he shrugged out of his
pack. “It sounds good to me. I’ll wake them up.”
As he leapt into the arena, Freki moved closer to Acha. “You did tell him
that those two had been fighting them—”
“All night? Yeah, I did.” The squama grinned casually. “Maybe he thinks
he has a better chance than them.”
“Maybe, but he’s probably making the same mistake most people do.
Those aren’t normal familiars, you know?”
“Hey, Jazai!” Devol shouted, shook the diviner, and stretched over him to
reach the wildkin. “Asla, wake up!”
“Burn in the hells, Zier,” Jazai muttered and turned in his sleep as Asla
tried weakly to scratch him, which made him pull his hand away. He decided
the other boy needed to work through his problems with his mentor.
“They won’t budge,” he shouted to Freki. “Should I simply fight alone
or…”
“Sluggards. They’ve had about four hours of sleep. That should be more
than enough,” The wildkin looked at the crowd behind him. “Do you guys
mind helping?”
Nods and laughter followed as he raised a hand and used his fingers to
count down from five. At zero, the crowd shouted as one. “Wake up!” The
noise finally dragged the sleeping friends out of their stupor.
“What is…” Jazai mumbled, shook his head, and looked around. “I’m
still in the arena?”
“I think we collapsed last night.” Asla rolled her shoulders and looked up
when Devol offered her a hand. “Oh, Devol, you have returned.”
“Yeah. I got back a few minutes ago.” She took his hand and he helped
her to her feet. When he turned and offered the same to Jazai, the diviner
waved him off, snapped his fingers, and blinked to a standing position. “Was
that necessary?”
“No,” the other boy admitted and groaned loudly as he rolled his head
and rubbed his neck. “Also, it was probably stupid. I’m still drained after all
that fighting yesterday—or was it today? What time is it?”
“You’ve been asleep for four hours,” Freki answered as he entered the
arena. “Come on. Up and at them. You can’t let your opponents get bored.”
“Do what?” Jazai and Asla looked at the creatures and sighed. “They are
still there.”
“Wow, in unison. See, this training is paying off.” The wolf wildkin
laughed and rested his hands on his hips. “Come on. You guys were very
close to doing some damage. Let’s finish this, shall we?”
“I assume we don’t have a real choice,” the diviner grumbled and
gestured to the beasts. “Devol, will you help?”
“Freki said he can make another one for me to fight,” the swordsman
stated and drew his majestic. “So I’ll probably be busy.”
“Then you should know that they can—” Asla began but Jazai cut her off.
“Hey, let him have some fun too.” The boy’s tone was far from jovial.
“So no pointers before we start?” Devol asked and glanced at Freki.
The diviner scoffed and jumped up and down to limber up. “We didn’t
get any. It’s more ‘real’ that way.” He glared at the wildkin Templar before
he focused on the leaner canine familiar, which shifted from a seated position
to all fours and returned his stare.
“So nothing? Asla?” He looked at the wildkin, who had already turned
her attention to the larger beast.
The creature got to its feet and crouched as if ready to pounce. Her eyes
narrowed as she brought her claws out and bared her fangs. “I wish you luck,
Devol.”
He sighed and scratched his head as he looked at Freki. “Well, I guess we
should begin.”
“Very good.” The wildkin nodded, walked to the other side of the arena
behind the familiars, and touched his necklace. The paw-shaped stone in the
middle glimmered for a moment before a third appeared between the other
two. It was lithe, with pronounced fangs and a scruffy, dark coat, but Devol
was taken aback by the fact that it was smaller than the other two. Even the
skinnier one Jazai faced was taller and longer than his.
“Why is mine so small?” he asked, confused and even somewhat irate at
the idea that Freki might be looking down on him.
 “Don’t worry about it,” Jazai whispered. “You’ll find it is annoyingly
perfect for you after a while.”
He took a moment to look at the diviner. “What is that supposed to
mean?”
“Pay attention, Devol,” Asla warned as she settled into a crouch.
“Remember that these were created from a majestic. That should be enough
to hold your attention and keep you on guard.”
The swordsman looked appraisingly at his familiar. It certainly looked
vicious, but it was far from something he would see as a real threat. “Okay,
but I don’t think—”
“Are all of you ready?” the wildkin Templar asked and the three familiars
began to prowl around one another. Each of the trainees watched their
respective opponents warily.
Devol rolled his shoulders for a moment and assumed a guarding stance.
He decided it was better to see these beasts in action. Looks could be
deceiving and the creatures had given Jazai and Asla a challenge—and for a
long time as well.
Freki nodded and held a hand up. “All right. Training begins now!” He
lowered his hand and whistled, and the familiars bared their fangs and
launched into the attack.
 CHAPTER SIX

The creature closed the distance between them in almost an instant. Wide-
eyed with surprise, Devol lifted his blade to parry a blow by the canine’s
claws. He side-stepped the beast quickly and slashed at it, but it was able to
whip its hind legs back and narrowly missed the blow.
The swordsman lunged forward and attempted to stab it, but it raised its
head to dodge the strike and bit the blade, something he certainly hadn’t
expected. Startled, he had to force himself to refocus and yanked the blade
out of its mouth before he landed a solid kick on the side of its head.
While the familiar wobbled a little, it made no effort to retreat and
instead, bounded toward him. He spun swiftly and let the creature pass him
before he swung his weapon and sliced its back. It made no noise and simply
landed and turned toward him. They were resilient, he would give them that.
As far as he knew, most familiars disappeared after one good strike. Before
he could consider the relevance of this, something odd happened.
He stared as the wound began to heal. At the same time, the familiar’s
coat became less ragged and sleeker. It grew a little too while muscles
developed in its legs. He had no idea what was happening and it left him
feeling somewhat disconcerted.
Saliva dripped from its fangs and Devol took a moment to study it as a
slight chill rippled through him. He recalled the day he had received
Achroma and the dire wolf he had slain. Freki’s pet was nowhere near as big
as that beast had been, but it had the same look in its eye—one of instinct and
hunger rather than will or any thought beyond the hunt.
The young swordsman jumped back and this signaled the creature to
charge. It was faster than before but he was able to bring his sword up in
time. The weapon did not stop the beast, however, and its impact with it
forced him to the ground. As it bit the blade again, it raised its claws to
attack.
Devol slid his hand to his waist, drew Roko’s dagger, and flicked it across
the arena. As the familiar’s claws descended, he blinked across the space and
wrapped his hand around the weapon as the sharp claws gouged into the
stone platform. He stood and held Achroma in one hand and the smaller
blade in the other as he finally confronted the reality that this fight would be
much trickier than he’d anticipated.
“It adapts,” he muttered and Freki’s ears immediately perked up.
“Indeed it does,” the wildkin acknowledged with a nod. “You realized
that right quick. It took your pals a little longer than that but just because you
worked out the trick doesn’t mean you can beat it.”
“Can they be killed?” Devol asked.
“Well, sure. They are familiars—magical constructs of my majestic,
Primal Song—so they can be destroyed like any other familiar. The question
is, can you inflict a heavy enough blow to do it before they change again?”
The boy considered this carefully. A graze or shallow incision certainly
wouldn’t work. He’d probably have to skewer it or at least slash deeply
enough to leave a large open wound, which meant he’d have to get it in
position for long enough to do so. The question, though was how he would
hold it down.
“You might want to keep your head up,” Freki warned. Devol looked up
quickly as the familiar surged into another attack. Instead of defending, he
swung his sword back and swiped forward in an attempt to behead it as it
lunged. The canine seemed to predict this and instead of following the
expected trajectory, leapt over him and slid across the arena before it turned
and continued the assault.
His friends fared little better. Jazai’s familiar was fast and seemed to read
him easily when he blinked. He would teleport to one end of the arena and
fire a cantrip, only for the creature to barrel down on him seconds later. It
either dodged the spells or simply ran through them like they had no effect.
Worse, it opened its mouth and fired cantrips at the apprentice in return,
which was an extremely strange sight to behold—to the spectators at least.
The diviner's two teammates were too preoccupied to notice.
Asla’s familiar was different than the other two. It was slower but
stronger and its hide was thick. Her usual fast Vis- and majestic-enhanced
blows barely left a mark. Any attempt to try to focus on a more powerful
strike slowed her and allowed it the opportunity to counterattack. She
typically had to cease her efforts and redirect her mana to dodge the attack—
usually one that could easily cost her a limb if it connected.
Devol noticed her familiar in particular and wondered why it chose to be
durable rather than fast like the others. Perhaps she could outpace it no matter
how fast it was. If that were the case, there was a limit to what the familiars
could adapt to.
He stole a glance at Jazai’s opponent. The coat was thin but it sparkled,
which was probably an adaptation to deal with the variety of cantrips the
diviner threw at it. That would certainly explain how it could run directly
through fire and mana missiles without slowing even slightly.
“I have an idea!” he announced and tossed his dagger to the other boy.
“Jazai, go and deal with Asla’s familiar. I’ll take yours!” He blinked to his
friend and thwacked the mana missile spat out by the creature to the side with
Achroma. It almost struck two Templars training nearby, much to their
annoyance.
The diviner was surprised for a moment but scanned the other familiars
quickly and smirked. “I see what you’re getting at. I’m a little ashamed that I
didn’t think of it earlier.”
“You probably would have if you’d bothered to read Freki’s mind,” Zier
noted as he walked up behind the wildkin Templar. “Good morning.”
“I’ll let him chastise me later,” Jazai muttered and nodded at his friend.
“Let’s go.” He blinked to Asla and appeared specifically above her familiar
to point a hand down at the massive canine. “Pulse!” he shouted and a blast
from his hand forced the large creature to the ground. “Go get Devol’s
beast!”
She looked at the swordsman’s familiar where it lunged at him while he
was preoccupied with diverting the blasts from the diviner’s opponent.
Without hesitation, she bounded closer, tackled the beast, and raked into it
with her claws. They landed and separated, and although she’d inflicted
several deep scratches on its hide, they did not bleed and it had already begun
to heal itself while its fur started to thicken.
Not this time.
Asla surged toward it and passed its side to leave several more scratches
before she spun and dragged her claws along the other side. The familiar
turned to bite her, but she vaulted over it as it tried to latch onto her and
focused all her magic into her arms and claws. She swung them in a swift and
powerful arc to its neck and the beast’s head tumbled off and vanished as its
body began to topple. It disappeared before it landed.
“Man, she was pissed,” Jazai noted and heard a deep growl behind him.
He whirled to where her familiar had found its feet and now hurtled toward
him. “I guess you are too, huh?”
The diviner knelt and placed his palm on the ground. “Liquify,” he said
curtly and the ground of the arena began to turn to mush in a cone in front of
him. The creature’s heavy paws sank into it and when it tried to swim clear,
its heavy hide made it sink faster.
He began to walk around the changing terrain and after a moment,
noticed that the beast had begun to shed its fur to become lighter. “Ha—no,
you don’t.” He snapped his fingers. “Release.” The stone took its original
form and effectively trapped the beast now that it was too weak to pull itself
free. “I have to admit, this was far easier than we made it.” He pointed to the
head of the familiar and called, “Blade.” A pointed spear of mana launched
from his finger and pierced the creature, which disappeared quickly before
the projectile had pushed through to the other side.
Devol continued to knock the cantrip missiles and bolts away as he
approached the last familiar. The crowd now ducked or scattered to avoid
being hit. The creature was now almost off the edge and he saw it preparing
to sprint away.
He directed one of its missiles back at it and it caught the one forming in
its mouth. Both erupted and he swung his blade high as the beast staggered.
He arced it forward decisively. The blade illuminated and extended to slice
his opponent in two before it had a chance to recover and successfully ended
the battle.
Freki clapped excitedly. “Well done,” he congratulated as Asla and Jazai
exhaled long sighs. The young swordsman grinned and held his blade up in
triumph. “It took you two much longer to find that weakness than I thought it
would.”
“I didn’t think it would be so obvious,” the diviner countered. “Surely
majestic familiars that can be exploited like that probably aren’t helpful in
battle.”
The wolf wildkin folded his arms and looked into the apprentice’s eyes.
“I normally use them to hunt or for assassination and if I need them in battle,
they are told to kill, not train.” He followed this with a rather feral smile, one
that Devol was not used to seeing on the usually easy-going Templar. “They
seem rather useful then, don’t they?”
Jazai’s eyes widened and he responded with a simple nod. “Yeah, I can
see that.”
“Good. Now that is done, we can move on to the big fellow,” the Templar
declared and walked to the other side of the arena.
“It sounds good—” Devol said with a laugh before he stopped himself
and all three looked at the wildkin in confusion. “Wait—what big fellow?”
 CHAPTER SEVEN

“What? Did you think it was all over?” Freki asked as he turned to the group
and smiled wickedly. “That was only a little training.”
“We’ve been training since yesterday,” Jazai protested and folded his
arms. “Do you even have the mana to do whatever you are about to do?”
“I may not have had yesterday but you see, I had a chance to take a nap.”
The Templar chuckled and brought his necklace out.
“Good morning, all.” At the loud, boisterous call, everyone turned to look
at Wulfsun, who approached from the main gate. The Templar captain looked
at all the holes near their arena and in a couple of the other training areas
close to it and frowned as he stroked his beard. “What the hells happened
here?”
“That’s…um, it’s my fault,” Devol admitted and waved to the crowd.
“By the way, I’m sorry about that everyone. I should probably have paid
more attention to where those were going.”
“Eh, I’ll get Macha to send a couple of guys to fix it,” Wulfsun told him
as he entered the arena and walked to Freki. “Right then. What did I miss?”
The wolf wildkin nodded to the three friends. “Well, they finally
eliminated the familiars.”
“Seriously? Only now?” He snorted a laugh and shook his head. “It took
them long enough.”
“It was Devol who suggested the plan. He worked it out rather quickly, I
must say,” Freki told him.
The Templar captain pounded his chest. “Of course. He’s my apprentice
so he has to be sharp to apply my teachings.”
Devol raised his hand. “We haven’t trained for more than ten days
together, Wulfsun.”
“See, he’s a natural.” The large man beamed. “It doesn’t even take that
much to get him going.”
“Ten days? Truly?” Jazai asked. “I would have thought he’d put you
through the wringer every other day.”
“I did too.” The swordsman shrugged and rested Achroma against his
shoulder. “But he is used to simply training everyone. I haven’t counted the
times when he’s trained the three of us together.”
“That is far more often,” Asla agreed as she knelt and stretched her back.
“Speaking of mentors, what about you and Freki?” the diviner asked her.
“After all this time together, you still didn’t know how to defeat them?”
“He does not use them often when we train,” she explained, sat, and
stretched her arms. “In fact, I can only think of two other times when he
brought a familiar out to train with me. It usually took the shape of the big
one when he did and was mostly used similar to how one would use a
training dummy.”
“So do you have any idea what this ‘big fellow’ he’s talking about is?”
Devol asked.
Asla stood and shrugged. “I do not. He has mentioned it a few times
before as something mostly used during missions. I suppose it must simply be
a big version of the familiars.”
“That doesn’t sound too difficult,” Jazai reasoned. “It might be annoying
but not difficult. It can only adapt to one of us at a time, right?”
“Unless there is something about it that makes it special,” the swordsman
interjected dubiously. “He seems very confident about it.”
“So are yer gonna bring that beast out, huh?” Wulfsun whispered and
continued to stroke his beard in thought. “It’s a right nasty fellow. You
usually only take it out when you and I are sparrin’.”
“True, but I want them to understand what they will go up against in the
trials,” Freki stated and looked at his necklace. “There will be others there
with majestics and most likely malefics too. I think they need to understand
that the majestics’ power alone is not enough to give them an advantage—
that power is a part of the others too and if they run into someone who is as
trained as you or I…” He shrugged.
“I follow.” The Templar captain nodded. “Let it loose but watch it
carefully, won’t ya?”
“Of course.” The wolf wildkin nodded. “You as well?”
 Wulfsun laughed but tried to stifle it. “I might take it on myself if it gets
to be too much for them. It always provides a good fight.”
“Try to hold off for a while.” Freki raised an arm. “Are you three ready?”
Devol turned to his friends. Jazai and Asla looked tired but not
completely worn out. It would probably be up to him to deal with whatever
this was for the most part since he was the freshest among them. They
nodded to him and walked to his side as he lowered Achroma and prepared to
fight. “Show us what you’ve got, Freki!”
The wildkin Templar nodded and held the stones on his necklace
together. Mana flowed out and everyone stared as it formed into a large orb a
few meters away from the trio, then quickly took shape and form.
The swordsman watched in awe as another canine familiar appeared in
front of them. This one was not simply a larger version of those they had
fought but appeared to be all three combined. It was an extremely large three-
headed hound—at least a few feet larger than Wulfsun. Each head looked like
one of the familiars they had recently defeated, only far bigger and almost the
size of the original familiars themselves. Its body was a composite of all
three. The bulky hide of Asla’s familiar shimmered with the magic resistance
of Jazai’s and it had the strong legs and ferocious claws of Devol’s.
“Damn it, we killed these things.” The diviner grunted, held his hands
out, and checked his rings.
“Familiar forms cannot truly die,” Asla reminded him. “At least while the
user is still alive.”
“So you’re saying we should kill Freki?” he asked and earned a glare
from the wildkin girl. “Hey, your suggestion, not mine.”
“There’s only one target. This shouldn’t be as big a problem right?”
Devol asked and held Achroma in a guard stance. “It’s quite big so it can’t be
that fast, can it?”
“And off you go!” Freki shouted. The three-headed creature howled and
charged the three friends, and its massive form overshadowed them almost
instantly.
“Oh,” the swordsman muttered as Asla bounded to the side. Jazai grasped
the collar of his friend’s jacket and blinked the two of them away seconds
before a large paw pounded the floor beneath them and left a large indent.
The two boys reappeared behind it. “So, do you have a plan?” the diviner
asked as he sifted through the cantrips in his head. The young wildkin slashed
at it with her claws to gain its attention.
 “All I can suggest is to try a seriously large attack,” Devol replied and
earned an annoyed glance from the other magi. “What? The familiars before
had a weakness to exploit. This one is…” They looked at it and studied the
size and various defenses it had. “A little tougher.”
Jazai nodded and glowered at the beast. “Do you need some time?”
“Only a little,” the swordsman promised. They nodded to each other and
the diviner blinked away and began to fire cantrips at the head that resembled
Asla’s original familiar to hold its attention and pull the beast in the opposite
direction from where she still held the focus of the head she’d targeted.
Devol began to funnel mana into his blade and the light inside grew
consistently brighter. He took a moment to look at Freki and Wulfsun. When
the wildkin Templar glanced casually at him, his gaze held a knowing look.
The boy ignored it and prepared to strike. He drew the blink dagger again,
tossed it under the creature’s stomach, and teleported beneath the large body.
He lowered his blade and prepared to run it through the familiar’s belly
but it leapt skyward. Taken aback, he glanced at Jazai and Asla, who seemed
as startled as he was.
“It has three heads and at least one was always aware of where you
were,” Freki explained. “You might want to consider that in the future.”
The young swordsman looked up reflexively. The triple-headed beast had
turned to face him and began to plummet toward him. He raised his blade and
shouted a battle cry as he released the mana stored within to form a large
blade of light.
Devol peered through the blade as it ascended toward the familiar and
aimed for the middle head—that of Jazai’s familiar—but that head and the
one next to it contorted and swapped places. His weapon was about to pierce
it when the head of his earlier familiar opened its maw and bit the blade to
crush it. The blade of light began to crumble around Achroma and left only
the normal blade as the creature was about to land. He dove out of the way as
it made impact and the force of it knocked him farther across the arena while
Asla and Jazai hunkered down instinctively.
The boy’s roll ended in front of the two Templars who watched them.
“It’s a neat trick, right?” Freki chuckled. “The familiars can change places
with one another. I can even change places with them in the field.”
He sat and rubbed his head. “Why didn’t they do that during the last
match?”
The wildkin shrugged. “I’m training you, not trying to kill you. If you
want to defeat it, I hope you have other tricks you can pull out of that blade.”
This suggestion triggered a memory of the night before and what his
father had said to him. He stood and looked at Achroma. “It won’t obey me,
it will listen to my heart,” he whispered. His grasp tightened on the sword
and he ran toward the beast as he raised his blade.
He looked at his two winded teammates where as they struggled against
the creature. Thoughts of the Oblivion Trials ahead of them and the fights
and struggles behind them made him feel as though the adversary they face
represented another obstacle in their way—in his way. He needed to make
sure it fell.
One of the heads turned to him and registered his approach. It batted the
other two out of the way with one large paw and focused on him with a snarl.
His friends called a warning as all three heads lurched forward to bite him.
Wulfsun began to step forward to intercept the attack as Devol yelled even
louder than before and swung his blade in a vicious downward arc. In the
next moment, a bright light consumed him.
The boy could see nothing and struggled to determine where he was and
what had happened.
“That was an excellent attempt,” a strong but ethereal voice told him as
he was surrounded by a bright white nothingness. “You may catch on quicker
than I did, but you are still not quite right.”
A form began to appear, taller than he was with long hair of a different
shade of white, but he couldn’t fully make it out amidst the light around him.
It held another object up shaped like his blade. “But you will get there,
Devol.”
The bright light faded as quickly as it had appeared and the young magi
only saw darkness until his body landed on the floor of the arena.
 C H A P T E R E I G HT

Something tapped the young swordsman’s cheek—no, more than that. It

slapped his cheek and he began to stir. When his vision cleared, it focused on
a large array of flowers hanging above him.
“Devol, are you all right?!” Asla asked. He turned his head slowly to
where she stood close to him. Behind her were Jazai, Freki, Zier, Wulfsun,
Vaust, and the grand mistress, all of whom looked at him with a mixture of
concern and curiosity.
“Yeah…yeah, I think so.” He nodded and pushed carefully to a seated
position but shifted in surprise when his hands settled on smooth, delicate
material. When he looked down, he realized he was on the grand mistress’
bed. “What happened? Did the familiar knock me out?”
Freki, Jazai, and Wulfsun looked at one another. “It never had the
chance,” the young diviner stated and focused on him. “You—or Achroma or
whatever—did that bright light trick and it was cut to ribbons. Whatever you
did was incredibly fast too. I almost didn’t realize it was slain before it
disappeared.”
“I…I don’t think it was me,” Devol said and breathed deeply. “I don’t
remember being able to attack, only being caught in a bright light. I thought I
was being teleported or had been caught in a barrier or something.”
“It wasn’t you?” Asla questioned. “But I was sure I saw your blade strike
it.”
“She had a better look than I did,” Jazai admitted and wandered to the
large window in the grand mistress’ room that overlooked the training areas
below. “It wasn’t only the familiar. You damn near leveled the area.”
“Do what?” he asked and pushed to his feet. He stumbled forward a few
steps but Asla and Freki helped him to stand. She wanted to take him back to
the bed but he continued forward until he could steady himself by leaning
against the window.
His eyes widened at the sight below him. His friend was right. The arena
they had been training on was utterly destroyed—mostly by the familiar, he
assumed, and all the fighting before he had arrived—but what caught his
attention were large gouges across not only the platform they had been on but
the ground behind it and through the arena across from there as well.
“Macha ended up coming with a team herself,” Wulfsun told him as he
joined the boys at the window. “It’ll all be repaired in a couple of days. She
works fast. But it is certainly a much bigger restoration work than she is used
to.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what happened there.” Devol pointed to the large
marks. A couple of smiths were measuring them and one stuck his arm deep
within to check the depth. “Was that me?”
Vaust looked at Nauru and it seemed some kind of silent communication
passed between the two of them for a moment. “Well, if we needed any more
signs…” He chuckled before he stood and placed a hand on Asla’s shoulder
to get her attention. “You said you saw Devol’s sword, correct?”
“It looked like it, at least,” she confirmed and her ears twitched. “But it
was so bright.”
The mori nodded and folded his arms. “And you do not remember
striking the beast, Devol?”
The boy shook his head as he turned away from the window. “No. I only
remember being inside a light and someone talking to me.”
“Someone talking to you?” Vaust asked sharply and drew everyone’s
attention to him again. “And who was that?”
He sighed and shrugged as he walked carefully to a lounge chair in front
of the desk. “I don’t know. I’m not sure who or even what they were,
honestly. They were made of light but a different color I guess, and told me I
had the right idea but was still wrong.”
“The right idea about what?” Wulfsun asked and ran a hand through his
disheveled mane of hair.
Devol looked around and his gaze settled on his sword where it leaned
against the bed. “Last night, I talked to my father to see if he had any idea
how to control Achroma. He said the only clue Elijah had mentioned was that
it does not obey the user but listens to their heart.”
 Vaust looked at the grand mistress, who nodded and walked to where the
boy sat, knelt beside him, and looked him in the eye. “Is there anything else
you remember this being saying?”
He leaned his head back and tried to recall the details. “That I would get
there. Then it said my name.”
Nauru looked at the Templars who exchanged surprised glances that
seemed to be oddly knowing at the same time.
“Well then, Devol, you may have talked to your birth father himself,”
Vaust said with a grin.
“Huh?” the boy muttered, astonished, and looked at Nauru, who nodded
in agreement.
“In spirit or perhaps in magic, at least,” she agreed. “It would explain
how this person knew you and Asla saw your blade fell Freki’s familiar.
After all, who else would have a blade like yours—or, rather, its other half?”
“It also explains the destruction.” Wulfsun chortled and looked at the
arena again. “Elijah is a great swordsman with a deft hand, but he has been
known to put a little vigor behind it when he’s trying to prove a point.”
“It could have something to do with the connection,” Vaust reasoned. “I
don’t think this was simple resonance or mental communication. Devol said
he saw himself in a realm of light. It could have been a gateway—something
to do with the bond between both sides of the blade.”
“That seems awfully detailed for a guess,” Freki commented with a
frown. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, it is a guess—mostly,” Vaust replied and waved a hand
nonchalantly. “However, I have heard stories of majestic-wielders hearing the
voices and even seeing the figures of their past owners. While I have not had
the pleasure to experience these phenomena, this could be something like
that. It’s not like there have been many moments in time where two people
wield what is essentially the same majestic.”
“That could have been him?” Devol asked and his gaze drifted reflexively
to the sword. “I kind of wish he had stuck around to tell me more about it.
And maybe more about him too.”
Nauru placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “What you experienced
was rather unique, Devol. But it shows you are connected to him in some
way.”
“It might have been the first time he truly knew you had it, boyo,”
Wulfsun interjected. “I have tried to get in touch with him since you arrived
but have heard nothing from him as yet.”
“We don’t even know where he is,” Vaust continued. “We sent messages
to his normal lodgings in various realms in the hope that he comes across
one.”
“Whatever you did—even if it wasn’t exactly correct—it opened a brief
gateway to him,” the grand mistress said softly. “I’m sure that will have
caught his attention and you’ll see him someday.”
Devol raised his head and managed a tiny smile. “Nah, it’s all right. I’ll
find the answers I need.” He stood and stretched. “It’s not like me to sit
around and wait for something or someone to come to me, especially not with
the trials coming up.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jazai snapped his fingers. “Have any of you received the
signets yet?”
Zier chided him. “You could be a little more grateful. I should have made
you fetch them.”
“But that means less time for you to torture me, so that would never have
happened,” his apprentice retorted.
The young swordsman walked to Wulfsun and Vaust. “Did you?”
The mori smiled and opened his hand to display the signets. “Indeed I
did.”
“Thank you.” He took one and studied it curiously. “Dark in color with
some winged creature on it like my father described.”
“Your father?” Wulfsun asked. “The guard captain one, right? What does
he know about the trials?”
“He says he is aware of them.” He took the other two signets and passed
them to Jazai and Asla. “He also said that magi have been mugged and many
reported these signets missing.”
“That is one way to get them,” Vaust commented and tipped his hat up.
“It doesn’t matter if they are expecting you or not. As long as you have a
signet, you can participate.”
“One could say it is something of a pre-trial to the trials.” Zier nodded. “I
remember having to deal with a ruffian or two on the way to my trial.”
“My father most likely did too.” Jazai chuckled.
The dryad narrowed his eyes. “We met at the trial location, although I’m
sure you knew that and merely wanted a way to besmirch me.”
The apprentice clicked his tongue. “I’m getting predictable.”
“So this is all we need, then?” Devol asked and inspected the item again.
“How do we find out where the trials start, though?”
Vaust’s tiny smirk assumed a more devious slant and he walked slowly to
Nauru’s desk. “Well, there are a couple of ways of doing that,” he began and
propped himself against the desk as his eyes scrutinized the three of them.
“There’s the normal way, which is to work it out yourself. That signet each of
you holds is your only real clue for that.”
The three friends looked at the items again, their expressions equally
blank. “What is the other way?” Asla asked.
“Simple. I’ll tell you,” the mori stated.
“Do what?” Wulfsun gawked. “What is the point of all this if we’re
simply going—”
“Let me finish.” Vaust held a hand up. He lowered it slowly as he leaned
closer to Devol. “I’ll tell you if you can defeat me.”
 CHAPTER NINE

“Wait—you want us to fight you?” Jazai asked in bewilderment. Even the

usually gung-ho Devol was taken aback. He had only seen Vaust in action on
a few occasions. Those were fast but still enough for him to realize the gap
between the two of them.
“No, of course not. Well, not in the traditional sense anyway.” The mori
looked around the room at the various reactions with clear amusement in his
eyes. “I’m not asking for an all-out brawl, although that could be fun. I’m
suggesting a challenge—you win and you get the location of the trials.”
“This is an odd turnabout from you Vaust,” Zier noted. He slid his arms
into his sleeves and frowned in displeasure. “You seemed as interested in
having the young ones prove themselves as any of us. Now, you are giving
them an out.”
The mori’s head snapped to settle his gaze on the scholar. Devol could
swear he could see the color of his eyes darken. “An out, you say, dryad?” he
asked, his voice chill. “Are you suggesting that taking me on will be an easy
task for them?”
Zier straightened his back and pursed his lips. “You do not wish to fight
them. From the sounds of it, you are giving them the chance to find the trials
location through something no better than a simple game.”
Vaust paused for a moment and his eyes cleared slightly. “A game? I
suppose you are not too far off, but a game is not always simple fun.” He
turned to Nauru’s desk, opened one of the drawers, and took out a small
notebook and pen. Calmly, he found an empty page and ripped it out. “Here’s
your challenge, young magi,” he said and faced away from them to write.
A hand touched Devol’s shoulder and he turned quickly. Jazai. He
seemed to be mouthing something to him, but he couldn’t discern the words.
Was he trying to pass something along? He saw the apprentice’s hand tap
something on his waist and when he realized what he intended, he nodded as
Jazai walked behind Asla.
The mori finished writing on the paper, folded it, and slipped it into his
pants pocket as he turned to face them. “I have written down the location
where the trials are to begin. If you are able to capture me or steal the
parchment from me, you win and I will be satisfied.”
“As in right now?” the swordsman asked and extended his hand to
summon Achroma.
Nauru narrowed her eyes at them. “I would very much appreciate it if you
would not raise a ruckus in my room.”
Devol grinned sheepishly. “Right. Sorry, Grand Mistress.”
Vaust chuckled and pointed to the window behind him. “There are still
several arenas left.”
“Macha will probably be thrilled to hear there is more work to be done,”
Wulfsun quipped.
The mori shrugged. “The arenas are damaged almost every day and there
are more than enough workers down there right now who can repair them.”
The Templar captain sighed and scratched his head. “You can be the one
to tell her, then.”
Vaust nodded casually. “Very well, are you ready to begin or change your
mind, or do you have any questions?”
“Several questions,” Devol responded.
“Oh?” Everyone turned to the young magi. “Seriously?” The mori
sounded surprised. “What has piqued your curiosity, boy?”
He rested Achroma across his shoulders. “Well, for starters, you haven’t
answered anyone as to why you decided to make this offer.”
“I would have thought it would occur to one of you by now.” Vaust
sighed and looked around the room with the beginnings of disinterest. “This
is merely an alternative by which you can find it yourselves. You can think of
it as more training.”
“I suppose that leads to the next question.” Devol walked past him and
caught his attention as he wandered to the window. “Is it simple training? I
am grateful to you, Vaust. You helped me to get here in the first place and
defended us during our first mission. However, you have not been one of
those who focused on our training. That usually fell to Wulfsun, Zier, and
Freki.”
The mori frowned slightly. “True enough. That is their responsibility after
all,” he pointed out. “Although I had my reservations about it, I backed this
plan to have the three of you attend the trials. I want to believe you are all
ready, but it is still a gamble. Wulfsun was the youngest among us to
complete his trial but he was still a few years older than you three are now.”
“Only because my master had misgivings and said I was too much of a
hothead for years,” the captain muttered. The boy was amused by the childish
annoyance that tinged his voice.
“So this is your way of making sure?” he asked and turned to face him.
“Or is this merely a tactic to delay us?”
Vaust raised an eyebrow and Freki stood behind him with a joyful grin.
“He is certainly the most mysterious of us all but he does have a good heart
deep down, I think.”
“Heel, dog-boy,” the mori muttered and looked briefly over his shoulder
as the wildkin’s grin disappeared and a frown took its place.
“That seemed unwarranted,” Freki whispered but received only a
sympathetic shrug from Zier.
Vaust returned his gaze to Devol and folded his arms. “I’m curious why
you seem so doubtful. This is coming across as more an interrogation than a
few simple questions.”
“Well, as Freki said, you are the mysterious one,” the boy pointed out
slyly and looked at the signet in his hand. “You made the offer but none of us
have any reason to believe you know where the location is. I have to wonder
if this is simply a tactic to prove we are not ready.”
“There are more personal ways of doing that,” the Templar warned and a
trace of the earlier chill tinged his voice. “So you doubt my information. You
are aware I am one of the best at reconnaissance in the Order, correct?”
“Also assassination, yes, but so is Freki,” Devol pointed out and smiled
when he saw Vaust’s eye twitch. “So I assume they told you where the
location was when you got the signets?”
“Of course not,” Vaust replied and shook his head. “That’s not how it
works for the trials.”
“Then how do you know where they are being held?” Devol asked and
held the signet up. “Only with this?”
The Templar nodded. “Correct. I could peg it as soon as I saw the
emblem on it,”
 “Is that so?” he asked and looked at the signet again. “Well, I still haven’t
the foggiest idea of what it is supposed to mean. I guess we had better move
on.”
“So have you made a decision, then?” Vaust asked and relaxed against
the desk again. “And you have no more questions?”
“Only one,” the boy replied and folded his arms. “Do you know where
the location is?”
A fang slipped out from under the mori’s top lip and pressed into the
bottom one. “We went over this—”
“Oh, my apologies. That wasn’t for you, Mr. Lebatt,” he stated, his tone
suddenly a little more jovial. “That was a question for Jazai.”
Vaust’s eyes widened slightly. “Jazai?”
“Yeah, I got it,” the apprentice replied and walked out from behind Asla
with his tome in his hands. “Or a rough location, at least. It’s being held in a
place called Sombra Caverns. I don’t know the exact position, but given what
I’m reading, neither does he at the moment.”
“Wait,” Zier muttered as he looked from one boy to the other and back
again. “So you were probing his mind while Devol was—”
“Talking to him, yeah.” The diviner shut his book and grinned. “I’m glad
he got more specific with his questions toward the end, though. Even with his
anima on low, Vaust’s mind wasn’t exactly easy to crack. It seemed being
called out irritated him a tad.”
Everyone in the room turned to look at the mori with either surprise or
wide grins on their faces. He frowned for a moment before he turned to
Devol. “Was this your doing?”
“Well, the talking part was,” the boy said and laughed. “But it was Jazai’s
plan.”
“It was a good thing you caught on quickly. I was worried about tipping
him off,” the diviner added and shook his book at his teacher. “Like you said,
Zier, I need to put this to more use.” His smile widened in triumph. “And I do
agree with you some of the time.”
 CHAPTER TEN

“Right, so this is what I have,” Jazai declared as he spread a large map on the
dining hall table the three shared as his two friends returned from the serving
counter, Devol holding both his and the apprentice’s meal. “Also, we
probably need to hurry because Zier doesn’t know I took this from the
library.”
“I believe that anyone in the Order can borrow books and maps from the
library with no worries, Jazai,” Asla pointed out as she sat with her bowl of
fish and rice.
The diviner knowingly glanced at her. “Oh, he’ll find something to bitch
about.”
The swordsman sighed as he placed his meal down and passed the other
boy his. “Seriously, my friend. Once this is all over, you need to have a heart-
to-heart with him or something and move past this. You are starting to sound
less like you are joking and more along the lines of paranoia.”
“Humph. It’s hard to have a heart-to-heart when one of us doesn’t have a
heart.” The apprentice paused for a moment and looked at his friends’
surprised faces. “Okay, maybe that was a little overboard.”
“What has been going on between the two of you?”
Jazai shrugged, pulled his chair out, and sat. “I don’t know. He’s been
grumpier and more controlling recently. It’s not like he was ever calm and
relaxed, but a switch seems to have flipped and he now makes me follow
every rule to the letter.”
“Isn’t that how it goes in any guild?” Devol asked and speared a piece of
steak with his fork.
“Within reason.” The diviner leaned forward to stare at the map. “But
now, he double-checks my clothing, makes sure my rings are always cleaned,
constantly asks me about my training—”
“It sounds like he’s concerned,” Asla interjected and picked her cup of
grape juice up.
Jazai raised an eyebrow and looked around briefly. “Concerned? Hmm…
you know, I’ve heard theories that there could be alternate realities of the
same realm where the same people exist but act the opposite of what is
normal. But it is all purely speculative at this point.”
“It makes sense to give him the benefit of the possibility I raised,” she
muttered and placed the cup down after a quick sip. “The way you describe
him is how Freki usually dotes on me. Although it can be irritable, I know he
means well. It could be that with us heading into the trials, he is more
concerned about your safety than usual.”
The apprentice sighed and frowned slightly. He looked at the other boy.
“What about Wulfsun? Is he freaking out about you at all?”
Devol thought about it for a moment. “Nothing particular comes to mind.
But he’s only officially been my mentor for the last couple of months. He
does ask how I’m feeling surprisingly often, though.” He glanced at the table
where Wulfsun and Freki were dining with a couple of other Templars. “But
hearing him talk in the grand mistress’ room about his time in the trial,
maybe he simply doesn’t want me having to deal with what he had to.”
“I wish we could all be that lucky,” the diviner responded and focused on
the map again. “Now then. Sombre Caves is located here near the town of
Reverie.” He pointed to a large, forested area on the northeast side of
Renaissance. “A little over a century ago, it was a booming mining area.
Reverie was a small outpost village until the mining started but it became a
boom town for about thirty years before everything started to collapse.”
“Figuratively?” Asla questioned and tore into a section of her fish.
“For the most part, yeah,” Jazai confirmed. “With mining, there will
inevitably be some actual collapses, but they were lucky for a long time and
nothing major befell the caves right up until the end.”
“And what happened then?” Devol asked. “Did it dry up or something?”
The other boy looked questioningly at him. “You don’t know? You’re
usually very good about knowing Ren history.”
“I guess I never got around to learning the mines’ past,” he admitted. “I
knew of the mines themselves, of course. Even abandoned, they take up a
large chunk of land in the kingdom but nowadays, it’s a ghost town. My
father once mentioned that the area was what he called a ‘gray zone,’ which
means that patrols don’t go through there often because it’s rare for any
bandits or dangerous creatures to be seen there.”
“Probably because most people realize it’s better to leave it alone.” Jazai
leaned back in his chair and rolled his neck. “By the end of the operations
there, it grew to have a reputation of being haunted or cursed. There were
numerous deaths over the decades—some in accidents while others were the
result of creature attacks from the nasty beasts that dwell much deeper within.
It wasn’t a big deal for a number of years but the longer it dragged on and the
deeper they went, the more common it became. There were also some
accusations of murder in a few cases but nothing was ever confirmed.”
Asla placed her fork inside her bowl. “I don’t see how that would give it
the reputation of being cursed. It all sounds like normal but unfortunate
events in a situation like this.”
The diviner nodded. “Yeah, but I haven’t reached the good parts, which
started in the last full year of operations.” He retrieved his tome and turned to
an empty page within. Sketches beginning to appear of miners within the
caverns and various beasts.
“You see,” he continued, “eventually, many miners and other people in
the village began to hear voices and sounds. Most chalked it up to the beasts
and the voices carrying through different parts of the caverns, but others
began to recognize some of the voices as old family and friends who had
been lost over the years.
“Those sounds, after a while, couldn’t merely be the beasts they knew
about. By this point, they regularly sent hunters and extermination teams to
deal with any of the threats within, and they gained a fairly good
understanding of what was inside. Nothing sounded like what they could
hear.
“Then odd happenings occurred like the water lines becoming toxic or the
miner’s food spoiling after they took it into the cave, even if it was fresh that
morning. Some even said that they would see people wander in at night,
never to return, and the nighttime crews would never see them walking
around the caverns when asked.”
Asla’s ears flattened. “Whether this is true or not, it seems a rather poor
choice for a location to hold this event.”
“It seems perfect to me,” Devol contradicted and received a confused
look from the wildkin. “A big part of the trials is to whittle the contestants
down, right? Having it take place in a location that has a bad reputation
would scare off the weakest magi immediately, and even if the ‘curse’ story
is untrue, the beasts in the cave, the darkness and claustrophobia, and even
the unstable foundation would prove to be useful in a last-man-standing
event.”
“You say that so casually,” Jazai muttered and lowered his head for a
moment before he looked at his friend. “Also, you both seem to dismiss the
potential of the curse too easily. I would have thought you would know
better.”
The swordsman waved it off. “I’m not saying it is not possible. Curses are
certainly real, but you should know that many items and places are said to be
cursed or haunted and turn out to have more practical explanations. Curses
are hard to use, even by skilled magi, and even harder to maintain, especially
if the magi is not there to maintain it.”
Asla nodded and her ears began to raise as she calmed slightly. “Right.
You said it is a ‘ghost’ town now, which means it's abandoned. If this all
happened long ago, even if a magi was cursing the area, they would be dead
by now, or gone.”
“Maybe,” Jazai said with a shrug. “But you know that skilled magi can
live longer than normal lifespans, and that’s to say nothing of races like mori
and dryads who can live much longer than humans, even if they aren’t great
magi.”
Devol tapped his fork on the side of his plate. “So you think someone
wanted the people gone after they had already spent decades digging?”
“Well, there is the other option—the haunting one.”
Asla nodded and pushed her bowl to the side. “Mana is released on death.
We saw with that flayer alpha what can happen when it is absorbed by
another being.”
“So another enchanted creature, then?” the swordsman asked.
“Potentially, but violent deaths did occur in the cave,” Jazai reminded
them. “And violent deaths can cause mana to burst out all at once and linger
in the area for longer than normal.”
“Sure, but it would take a great many deaths in a short amount of time for
something like that to cause anything resembling a haunting,” Devol
countered.
“This was a mining operation,” Jazai pointed out. “Do you have any idea
what they were mining?”
 He paused and frowned. “Well, cobalt would be the easy guess.”
“Yes, it would, but also the wrong one,” the other boy retorted. “The
Sombre Caves contained several different valuable minerals. Among them
were mithril and elementium.”
“Okay, what of it? Mithril can absorb only a tiny amount of mana
compared to cobalt and elementium is able to adapt to mana-enchanted magic
but not mana itself.”
“Those were merely a couple of examples, and the caves were full of
them,” Jazai explained. “But even taking those out of the equation, the one
thing that you should be concerned about is that some of the latest letters
mentioned that they had possibly stumbled on vermillion.”
Devol dropped his fork and his muscles froze for a moment. “Oh.”
“Vermillion?” Asla asked. “What is that? Vermillion is a shade of red,
correct?”
“Yep, but in this case, it’s the shade of red this stone has. Its name is
derived from that color like cobalt is. While it also absorbs and contains
mana like cobalt, its much rarer.”
“And a good thing too,” the swordsman remarked and regained his
composure. “Vermillion doesn’t only store and dispense mana like cobalt.
From what I understand, it taints it somehow.”
“Well, that’s the urban legend,” Jazai said and immediately caught their
attention. “My father worked with some several years ago, although not for
long. I’m not sure ‘taint’ is the word he would use, though. He said it
‘distorts’ mana, although that seems more vague. But he had to end his trial
early and said he would feel fluctuations in his mana that went from feeling
like he had his anima active to feeling like he was bleeding dry. He would get
headaches, nausea, and start to hallucinate voices.”
“Like the miners,” Asla whispered.
The diviner nodded. “My guess is that if there is vermillion in those
mines, combine that with the dispersal of mana from the deaths of the miners,
and the stories are suddenly put into perspective.”
Devol sighed and picked his fork up. “True enough. I guess it’s
something we’ll have to be aware of once we head out there.”
Jazai looked at him in surprise before his expression shifted to annoyance
as he began to eat his meal again. After a moment, he chuckled and shook his
head as he finally focused on his plate and began to eat in earnest. “You’re
very casual about all this, aren’t you?”
 “Was this meant to scare us?” he replied and toyed with his mashed
potatoes.
His friend shook his head again. “Not at all, but the more we look into
this…I don’t know. I guess I had hoped it would put things into perspective.”
“It has,” he assured the apprentice with a smile. “This will be tough but
we knew that. If anything, you shed more light on what we could be running
into, and that helps considerably.”
The diviner stopped eating for a moment and stared at his friend who
continued to eat his meal casually and his smile even seemed contented. A
part of him wished he would be more serious now, especially with what they
had been through already. But he had to admit that the swordsman’s
assuredness and calm, as irritating as they could be, kept him grounded.
 C H A P T E R E LE V E N

“So…besides the history of these caves,” Asla began and peered at the map,
“was there anything else you wanted to show us?”
“Hmm? Oh, right.” Jazai scootched his chair closer and nodded. “Vaust
knew where the trial was but not specifically where it would begin.” He dug
in the pocket on his robe and took his signet out. “I think I may have a better
idea now, though.”
“Awesome. What have you found?” Devol asked and glanced at the
stacks of books his friend had brought with him. “And how long will this
take?”
The apprentice rolled his eyes. “Oh, not too long, although given the
situation, I’d think you wouldn’t mind me being somewhat long-winded.” He
tossed the signet on the table in front of the two of them. “Okay…that
creature on the signet. I first thought it was a chimera of some kind that was
designed to be a puzzle for the entrants to the trials.”
“That was the impression I got from Vaust,” Asla agreed. “He did say the
only help we could get to find the location without him would be from that
emblem.”
“Right, but it is not a puzzle or even a hint. It’s the answer,” Jazai replied
with a smile. “Because it turns out it is not a chimera at all. It’s a real animal,
merely one we don’t see that often.”
“It is?” Devol picked the signet up and studied the four-winged creature.
“Four wings… If the trials are being held in our realm, the only creatures I
can think of that have four wings are either in Osira or Solen and they look
more like birds and reptiles than bats.”
“Correct, but this is not a creature that has four wings,” the apprentice
pointed out. “At least, not on its own.”
His two companions looked incredulously at one another and the wildkin
spoke first. “What do you mean?”
“That is indeed a type of bat known as a nocaloc, and if you look at the
bottom set of wings, you’ll see that they are smaller.”
The other two leaned closer to the image and Devol noticed immediately
that the wingspan of the second set of wings was indeed smaller. “I thought it
was only because the signet was too small to make them bigger.”
Jazai frowned. “I don’t think they have to keep it a certain size, Devol,
but maybe they do. I don’t know the rules. Either way, it led me to look
around the bestiary for the caverns and I discovered the nocalocs, who have
an interesting method of tending their young when they are learning to fly.
The baby nocas cling to their parents during their early stages and once they
are almost ready to fly on their own, their mother flies with them to accustom
them to flight. They continue to cling to them and this lets them spread their
wings while still safe on their belly.”
“So the second set of wings is their child’s,” Asla finished and nodded. “I
see. And this tells you where they are located in the caves?”
“It does indeed,” he confirmed. “At first, I thought it was merely to lead
someone to the Sombre Caves since that is the only place they are known to
inhabit in Renaissance. But it turns out that nocalocs live in a colony and
have lived in the same area within the caves for a long time.”
He straightened and pointed to a location on the map that showed a
circular cavern that was connected by four different paths. “This is
considered the ‘second heart’ of the cave.” He moved his finger a little higher
to a larger area with more paths leading to it. “This is what is commonly
thought to be the ‘main heart’ or center of the caves, but the second heart is
another area that connects many different routes around the cave and
apparently, the nocalocs nest there specifically.”
“And that’s where the trials are?” Devol said thoughtfully and smiled at
his friend. “Good work.”
Jazai smirked and eased back in his chair. “It was easier since we knew
the rough location, so it made the process much faster.”
“Then if we know where it is, how should we get there?” Asla asked and
returned her focus to the map. “It appears there are several ways into the
caves themselves. Which one should we take?”
“We have an anchor set up near the town of Petoile, which is about an
hour away from Reverie on foot for us,” the diviner said. “I recommend we
go in there. After all, it is the main entrance to the mining operation and
therefore the most accessible. The other entrances are kind of a crapshoot.
Some are merely natural entrances and others have had some work done, but
it’s shoddy work, mostly by miners who were trying to cut out a little extra
ore for themselves to pocket.”
“That sounds like the best route,” Devol agreed. With his meal finished,
he pushed his plate aside. He looked at both of his friends. “Well, that means
we’re ready now, right? We can head to the trials whenever they start!”
“That would be the day after tomorrow,” a familiar deep voice replied
and startled the group.
“V-Vaust? Where did you come from?” Jazai sputtered.
The mori tilted his head. “Didn’t you pick me up in your book this time?”
The boy frowned and closed his majestic. “Are you still bitter about
that?”
“On the contrary, it was a great use of your gift. I was impressed,” he
replied and bowed his head slightly.
“The trials begin in two days?” Asla asked. “Why did we cut it so close? I
thought we qualified after our last mission.”
The mori nodded slowly. “Yes, but we wanted to give you as much time
as possible to prepare. Also, convincing the authorities on the trial’s Council
took more effort than anticipated. You should know they are eager to see you
now,”
Jazai shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “That’s not ominous at all.”
“Should we leave tomorrow, then?” Devol asked his friends. “It will give
us a head start and we’ll still have to navigate the caves.”
“That is true, but it should make that a simple matter as long as we have a
map,” Asla stated and her ears twitched excitedly.
“I’m all right with tomorrow. It’ll allow us to check out the competition
in advance and maybe get some ideas of what the trials will be,” Jazai
concurred.
“At least you are thinking ahead. I wish you the best,” Vaust stated and
turned to leave.
“Mr. Lebatt!” Devol called and stopped the mori. “Are you leaving on a
mission?”
“Not at the moment, why?” the Templar asked and looked at him over his
shoulder.
 The boy stood and walked up behind him. “You won’t be shadowing us
again, will you?”
Vaust looked surprised for a moment before he chuckled. “No, I won’t. In
fact, if I did and I was caught, that would not only get you disqualified but it
would probably tarnish the Order’s reputation in the eyes of the trial Council.
That, in turn, would mean we wouldn’t be able to send any more members
through on our word alone.”
“So we will truly be alone?” Asla asked, although her quiet tone made the
question seem more to herself than anyone else.
“Indeed you will. It’s exciting isn’t it?” Vaust replied with a small smile.
“I and the others will be there to see you off and await your return. Tonight,
you should take care of any lingering doubts and rest well. The trials await.”
The three friends watched him walk away. They were certainly excited
but a feeling of unease had also begun to set in. Until this moment, they had
been completely focused on getting ready for the trials. Now that they were
prepared and knew where to go, it finally hit them what that meant.
Jazai pushed his plate aside, rolled the map, and placed it on top of the
books he had brought with him. “I’ll make a copy of the map,” he told them
and stood to leave the table. “And write a note to my father. I’ll see you two
in the morning.”
Asla nodded and turned to the table with Freki and Wulfsun. “I need to
see Freki and visit the shri—speak to some others as well,” she announced as
she passed Devol. “A good night to you both. See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” the swordsman replied to them both and drew a deep
breath when he was left alone with his thoughts for a moment. He collected
their plates and carried them to the cleaning area, where he deposited them
for the attendants before he returned to the table to retrieve Achroma. With
nothing more to do, he decided to go to his room and passed Asla and Freki
in conversation while Wulfsun watched him leave.

When Devol reached his room, he took a moment to look out of his window
into the night sky where the stars gleamed brightly. He turned the light in his
lantern down and unwrapped the cloth around Achroma so the light of the
blade illuminated the room. In the silence, he thought about the trials, the
adventures he had experienced before now, his new friends and comrades,
and eventually, thought back to that brief moment during the fight in the
arena and the figure he had seen.
Was that Elijah, the owner of the other half of Achroma and his birth
father? The boy ran his hand over his sword’s blade and let his thoughts
tussle over this strange possibility. He had truly given little thought to the
man, even when it was only a suspicion that he might be his father. But
seeing what he had accomplished with only a brief window of time through
that connection, he seemed both powerful and decisive and could wield
Achroma with much greater ability—to a level he had not even contemplated
for himself.
He thought of the words he had left him with—that he would get there. If
there were anyone in all the realms who could say that as a fact in this
circumstance, it would be him. Devol picked the dark cloth wrapping up and
twisted it slowly around the blade before he placed it gently against the wall
at the foot of his bed. And as he lay back to continue thinking and drift off to
sleep, a thought occurred to him that he had yet to consider until now.
Perhaps one day, he would like to meet him.
 C H A P T E R T W E LV E

The following morning, Devol woke earlier than he had intended. He sat and
slid to the side of his bed, stretched his neck, and drew in a deep breath. They
would depart for the caves today and the trial was tomorrow.
He dressed quickly, headed to the dining hall, and ate a hasty meal of
fruit, oatmeal, and toast. Neither of his friends appeared while he was there
and he wondered if they had slept in or were still making preparations.
After he had finished his meal, he wandered into the arena where a few
Templars worked out and chatted but found none of his usual friends and
elders. He decided to go and check on his two teammates and considered
going to Asla first, but it occurred to him that he did not know where she
stayed. He had a rough idea—somewhere in the east halls—but had never
visited her room during his months at the Order. He decided he would have to
ask Jazai after talking to him.
He proceeded to Zier’s tower and pushed easily through the heavy doors
on the way. As he stopped for a moment to watch a pair close, he smiled
when he recalled how shocked he had been on his first day when he was told
that every door was like that. Now, it wasn’t something he even
acknowledged most days.
After the fairly long walk, he finally entered the serene domicile of the
head scholar and looked around for his friend. He took a breath to call his
name but heard voices talking. Curious, he walked to the private library and
peered inside.
Zier and Jazai were seated on lounge chairs and chatted casually to one
another—something he was surprised to see given the tensions between the
two of them over the last few weeks. He began to feel rather like an
eavesdropper and knocked on the frame of the doorway to catch their
attention.
“Good morning, Devol.” Zier pointed to an open seat for him to sit in.
“You’re up early,” Jazai commented. “It’s a big day, you know. You
should have gotten more rest.”
“I could say the same to you,” he countered and moved closer to them but
chose not to sit as yet. “You’re already dressed and everything.”
The diviner shrugged, an easy grin on his face. “I’m used to not getting
much sleep, honestly, and don’t know what a ‘long night’s rest’ is anymore.”
He turned slightly to glance at his friend. “Are you coming to pick me up?”
“I came to see if you were ready to go,” he replied. “I planned to check
on Asla too but I realized that I don’t know where she stays.”
“She’ll find us when she’s ready,” Jazai replied as he smoothed his pant
leg. “She prefers to keep to herself when she’s in her room anyway.”
“In the meantime, I’m sure Wulfsun would like to see you,” Zier stated.
“He will no doubt see you off with the rest of us, but I’m sure he would
appreciate a little personal time with you before you go.”
“We did all leave abruptly at the end of dinner,” the diviner recalled. “I
know we’re leaving soon but we probably should take a moment to say
personal goodbyes—in case…well, you know?”
Although the harrowing implications of what his friend was saying was
not lost on Devol, he could not help but feel a trace of warm humor as he
looked at Zier and his apprentice seated so casually across from one another.
He nodded. “Do you know where I can find him?”
“I’m sure he’s up by now and probably getting in a morning workout in
the private arena,” Zier told him. “You should know it—where you two
sparred on your first day?”
“I do, thank you.” He bowed slightly and turned to depart. “I’ll see you at
the anchor in a while, Jazai.”
“See you then, but don’t hold us up,” his friend warned playfully. “I am
ready to go when you are, especially if Zier starts getting misty-eyed.”
The scholar chuckled dryly. “Me? You were the one flummoxing your
words in an emotional fit a moment ago.”
“I merely tried to find the right words to tell you what you mean to me,
Zier,” the diviner retorted as Devol left the library. “Like what’s a poetic
word for hardass?”
Grunts, deep breaths, and other sounds of exertion grew louder as he walked
down the long hall into the private arena. When he stepped onto the sandy
floor, Wulfsun seemed to be practicing punches and kicks. He wore no armor
on his upper body and only a pair of gray slacks below. As the boy drew
closer, he noticed several deep scars on his mentor’s back that he had not
seen before. “Wulfsun?”
“Aye?” the Templar captain responded, turned, and brightened when he
saw the boy walking up to him. “Ah, morning, boyo. It’s good to see ya.”
Devol was surprised to see a large scar running down the Templar’s chest
from his right shoulder, across his sternum, and down to the left side of his
waist. His eyes must have widened or he flinched because his mentor
immediately looked down and ran a hand across it. “Ah…this? It’s merely
old mementos from battles past.”
“I see,” he responded and studied the old wounds. “They look…deep. I
suppose I’m surprised that you have such large scars given that your majestic
is primarily defensive.”
“Aye, but I got most of these before I got my majestic,” Wulfsun replied
as he crossed the arena to retrieve a towel to dry himself. “Given that my
magic school is constitution, I mostly used that to enhance my offensive
skills rather than defensively. It took me a while to realize that I could use
both effectively and in fact, it was getting my majestic that made me
understand the possibilities of not simply charging in with my fists out. I
didn’t get mine until a couple of months before I did the trials. My master
insisted on giving it to me when he had heard enough of my bluster about
him holding me back.”
“You mentioned that yesterday,” Devol recalled as he leaned against the
walls. “You’ve talked about your mentor with me fairly often, but I don’t
think you’ve ever told me his name.”
“Hmm, haven’t I?” Wulfsun thought for a moment. “Maybe not. His
name is Skoll. He’s a wolf wildkin like Freki but a verte instead of homina,
which means that he’s more likely to school the little ones.” He chuckled as
he draped his towel around his shoulders. “It’s ironic, I suppose. I’m not
saying he didn’t like to play up the big bad wolf persona with some people,
but he was a softy deep down.”
“You said he’s been out on a mission for a long time,” he said as the man
smiled at memories that ran through his mind. “Do you think I’ll ever get to
meet him?”
The Templar nodded and settled his gaze on him. “I’m sure you will.
He’s taken his sweet time because he does not half-ass his missions.” He
picked a canteen up off the floor and took a big gulp. “He’s been out on
something called a pact mission, which is basically working with several
guilds we have good relationships with and helping them to take care of some
nasty chores around their kingdoms that they’ve put off.
“It’s nothing he can’t handle, I’m sure, but it is time-consuming and he’ll
make damn sure they get everything done before he moves on to the next
guild. I received a letter a little over a month ago. He’d finished his fifth
mission with a guild in the kingdom of Kanako and only has one last visit to
Osira before he’ll be back with us.”
“So he’ll hopefully return soon?” Devol asked, happy that the man could
be able to see his mentor again after so long.
“Aye, although it could be days or weeks depending on the job, given
how thorough and stubborn he is.” Wulfsun chuckled, capped the canteen,
and hung the towel on a rack. He picked a white tunic up and put it on. “So,
today's the day, isn’t it, lad?”
“Tomorrow, technically,” the boy replied and pushed away from the wall.
“But we agreed to get a head start.”
“That’s a good idea. It’ll give you time to assess your enemies and
potential allies,” the man said approvingly.
“Yeah, Jazai was saying the same thi—wait, allies?” Devol frowned in
confusion as the Templar walked up to him. “I know Jazai and Asla will be
with me, but I thought it was essentially a free-for-all.”
“It’s good to look at it like that, certainly,” Wulfsun agreed. “But it’s not
winner-take-all. While there is sometimes a lone-wolf winner, there’s
typically always a group of winners— maybe around ten or so. So if you
come across other magi who you think could benefit you, it’s always good to
make a partnership.”
“Is that how you won?” the boy asked.
His mentor scratched his head. “It would probably have made it easier,
but no. I was something of a hothead in my youth—that scar on my chest, for
example, came from a fight toward the end of my trial. Like I said, I had only
recently gotten my majestic—Arah’s Aegis, I think Skoll called it a couple of
times. The name never stuck with me, though, nor did his teachings about
how to use it effectively at first.” The Templar sighed and was silent for a
moment before he laughed loudly.
“Honestly, getting well and truly walloped finally made it sink in. The
armor was so strong that I would let everyone else whale on me to build my
power up so I could unleash it at them in return. But in the final stretch, I ran
into a magi conjuror who could make magical blades that passed through
armor. Normal spells and exotics may not be able to destroy a majestic but it
seemed like that bastard had found a workaround,”
Wulfsun sighed as he stroked his beard. “He made this big claymore that
slashed through my chest. I fell and looked up to see the blade hovering over
me, ready to finish the job. I finally began to use the shields the armor
produces and completely stopped every blade he threw at me, and the kicker
was that it enhanced my power even more. By being such an idiot, I was
handicapping myself. Needless to say, I finished my trial with both my
Oblivion mark and a new scar that day.”
Devol thought about his issues with his majestic and decided to ask his
mentor the question nagging at him. “What do you think my chances are,
Wulfsun?”
The elder magi looked speculatively at him. “Is it starting to get to ya,
lad?”
He shrugged. “I won’t turn back, but I think none of us let the gravity of
this sink in fully with everything going on and trying to prepare. But hearing
your story makes me—”
“Ah, don’t let me be the reason you start worrying now!” the man
admonished and rested a large hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t the brash
idiot I was, boy. You may still be discovering everything you can do with
your majestic, but you are still a gifted swordsman and magi.”
The Templar placed a fist across his chest. “Look, we’re all worried, but
part of that is because the Oblivion Trials are an unknown. They are difficult
but that was the whole point of everything you’ve done until now. We sure as
the hells did not expect to encounter that psychotic fire magi, but the three of
you took care of him on your own and he had both a majestic and malefic.
That’s something even I haven’t dealt with before.”
He moved his fist to press it against Devol’s chest. “I believe in you,
boyo. We all believe in the three of you, but we will still worry. You are our
comrades, after all. But we know you can take this challenge on. We
wouldn’t have even considered it otherwise.”
 The young swordsman smiled and placed his fist against the man’s chest
—or closer to his stomach, rather, due to the height difference. “Thank you,
Wulfsun. We’ll make you proud.”
“I have no doubt,” his mentor said with a smile and clapped him heartily
on the shoulder. “We should probably head to the anchor now, aye?”
“Aye,” the boy agreed and mentor and apprentice left the arena and
moved toward the next part of the young magi’s adventure.
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Hey, so you are coming?” Jazai chided playfully as Devol and Wulfsun
finally crossed the drawbridge to meet the group.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t think to bring any of my gear with me so
I had to run to my room to fetch it,” the swordsman admitted sheepishly as he
looked around. Everyone had already gathered here—the mentors, the grand
mistress, and even a few of the other Templars he had befriended like Acha
and Pete. Vaust sat on a branch of a large tree and waved a greeting at him,
which he returned.
“It’s a big day!” Coko exclaimed excitedly. “I think this is the first time
we’ve sent someone to complete the trials in a decade.”
“We haven’t had the need,” Heni, the daemoni attendant to the grand
mistress, stated. “Quite a few Templars already have Oblivion Trial markers
if we need to use them. This is a special case.”
“Do you honestly have to be so casual about it?” Acha asked and earned
nothing more than a tight-lipped stare from the attendant.
Macha approached the young swordsman. “I wanted to see you off,” she
said and scrutinized his gear. “Rogo and I considered trying to whip
something up for you before you went but we were a little distracted cleaning
up after your ‘training’ yesterday.”
Devol smiled apologetically. “Uh…yeah, thanks for that. I’m sorry if it
took a while.”
“It’s all good, my friend,” Rogo stated cheerfully. “I only wish I could
have been there to see what happened. The result was insane.”
The smith continued to laugh as Macha produced a small box and
gestured for Asla and Jazai to come closer. “We may not have been able to
make you anything, but you’ll probably want these.” She opened the box to
reveal three rounded stones within, each dark in color but with shimmering
inlays of blue, red, and yellow.
“Are these a-stones?” Jazai asked as he picked the blue one up. “You
finally got around to getting us some?”
The smith frowned at him for a moment before she shrugged. “I honestly
thought you already had them by now, especially given how easy it is for one
of us to get them.” She glanced at the mori in the tree as she finished her
statement.
Vaust shrugged as he stretched on the branch. “I’ve been busy.”
“Clearly,” Zier mused before a small acorn hit his horn. “Was that
necessary?”
“It looks like Jazai has chosen his. You two take one as well,” Macha
instructed. Asla selected the yellow one, which left Devol the red. The smith
closed the box and motioned for them to hold their hands out with the stones.
“Push a small amount of mana into them and let that travel between the three
stones.” They did as instructed and watched intently as their individual mana
collected within the stones and jumped like tiny sparks into each other’s.
All three young magi knew enough about them to know that they should
allow silent communication between them when activated.
“Did it work?” Devol asked.
“It seems so,” Jazai responded and tapped his forehead with a wide grin.
“I heard it as well,” Asla confirmed with a small smile. “Can you hear
me as well?” she asked, although her lips didn’t move.
The swordsman nodded excitedly. “Yeah, this is awesome!” he replied in
thought and turned to Macha. “Thank you. This will be very helpful.”
“That’s the idea,” she assured him. “I don’t know what they will throw at
you during the trials but this should at least keep you connected.”
“Keep it to yourselves for now,” Nauru told them and folded her hands
into the sleeves of her robes. “My mana is in each stone we have, so if you
truly need to contact us, you can reach me. But given how particular the
Oblivion Council can be, it is better that you don’t give them any reason to
disqualify you.”
“So you should always make sure to have each other’s backs,” Pete
declared. “I had a comrade attempt the trial. He barely made it out alive and
he’s a lucky one among the losers.”
“It’s not the kind of inspiration they need right now, Pete.” Reina sighed.
 “Still, you shouldn’t coddle them at this point either,” Zier said firmly
and turned to the trio. “I suppose this is it, you three. Are you sure you want
to go? There is no shame in holding off for now and attempting—”
“I’m going,” Jazai interrupted with a confident grin as he pocketed the a-
stone. “But I’m sure you’re well aware of that by now.”
“It would make our talk pointless if I hadn’t listened,” the dryad scholar
replied and held a letter up. “I’ll make sure this gets to your father.”
“Eh, hold off on it for now. I might write a new one when I get back,” his
apprentice stated and turned to his teammates. “How about you guys? Are
you ready?”
Devol and Asla looked at one another and nodded. “Of course. We’ve
planned this for months now and went through all the preparation. There’s no
point in letting it go to waste,” the swordsman responded.
“I agree. I am eager to see how we fare,” Asla agreed as she looked at
Freki and gave her uneasy guardian a comforting smile.
“As am I,” Nauru said and walked through the crowd to the three young
magi. “I wish you luck and look forward to your return, young Templars.”
“Thank you, Grand Mistress,” they replied in unison and bowed slightly
to her. Devol feeling a warm pride within when he realized this was the first
time he had been called a Templar rather than a recruit.
Nauru turned toward the anchor. “I will open the portal for you.” She
glanced over her shoulder at them. “Do you have a destination in mind?”
The swordsman looked at Jazai. “Yes, ma’am. The village of Petoile.”
“Understood.” She approached the anchor and extended her a hand, and a
portal opened soon after. “When you are ready, you can depart.”
Devol adjusted the straps on his backpack while Jazai and Asla picked
theirs up and put them on. They looked at one another again, each with a firm
expression of determination, and waved goodbye to their fellow Templars
before they walked through the portal.

When the three emerged, they stood inside a forest. Devol looked at the
portal in front of a large oak tree. Their friends and mentors waved through
the gateway again before it closed and he was able to see the small symbols
carved into the bark of the tree.
 “We are in a forest, not a village,” Asla commented and studied two blue
birds that nested above them.
“Well, the Order doesn’t put anchors in the middle of a village, of course.
It’s too risky,” Jazai responded and pointed north. “But the village is only
about half a mile outside the forest. If we need anything else, we should stop
there before we press on to Reverie.”
“I have everything I want. What about you guys?” Devol asked.
Asla nodded while Jazai gave it some thought. After a moment, he
nodded as well. “I’m good. So should we go straight there?”
“That sounds good to me.” The swordsman looked up as the birds flew
out of the nest and into the sky. “Hey, Jazai. Do you mind taking your
majestic out for a second?”
The apprentice held a hand up and the book appeared in his grasp. “What
do you need?”
“Check and see if anyone is around,” he requested.
Jazai flipped the book open and his friends crowded close. They watched
as words appeared, but they revealed nothing more than their thoughts and
some facts about the local wildlife and fauna. “It seems we’re alone for now,”
the diviner noted before he closed the book.
“It looks like it,” Devol whispered and smiled quickly at his friend.
“Well, let’s get going.”
The other boy chuckled as he clasped the tome shut and slid it into the
strappings on his waist. “Onward to oblivion then?”
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As Jazai had expected, it took the three young magi roughly an hour to arrive
at the abandoned town of Reverie. Dark clouds hung above and a thin fog had
begun to settle but they took a moment to look around the town. Given its
abandonment almost a century earlier, it was in remarkable condition.
That wasn’t to say that the folky style homes and buildings weren’t in
disrepair. Many certainly were and there was some growth between the
buildings at the edges of the mining town, but Devol had seen abandoned
areas that were all but destroyed and fully reclaimed by nature after only a
couple of decades.
“You know, it’s kind of nice,” he remarked with an impressed edge to his
tone. He looked at his teammates, who gawked at him in disbelief. “Well,
you know…in comparison.”
“To hovels?” Asla questioned.
Jazai shook his head and began to enter the town. “I’ll look for shelter
while you try to find your next summer home. We may want to wait out the
storm if it starts pouring.”
They wandered down what was probably the main street. Devol imagined
the stalls and stores that had once flourished in the area and the bustle of
townsfolk and miners as they went about their days. The deeper they went
into the village, and the more the fog set in, the more he began to realize his
initial thoughts about the village may have been a little too complimentary.
Asla sniffed the air and her nose wrinkled. “There’s a stench nearby.”
“That’s probably only the smell of rot,” Jazai replied flatly. “Even I can
smell that without enhanced sense.”
“This is not that. It’s...more recent.” She turned aside to one of the
smaller buildings and pushed the front door open. The two boys followed
cautiously as she walked up to a tiny chest on the floor of the main room and
opened it. She immediately recoiled, covered her nose with one hand, and
reached inside with the other to pull out something covered by a cloth. With a
grunt of disgust, she dropped it on the floor and her teammates covered their
noses at the rancid smell. Molding cheese tumbled out of it.
“Cheese?” Devol coughed. “How long has that been here?”
“It’s not completely moldy.” Jazai pointed out some of the areas not
overtaken by the mold. “It must be at least somewhat recent.”
“That means there were people here,” the wildkin stated and straightened
with a grimace. “Could it be bandits?”
“It’s more likely squatters,” the diviner replied and studied the room. “It
seems to be picked clean, but I see what looks like a small washcloth and an
empty sack behind the chest.”
“Wouldn’t other magi trying to get to the trials be more likely?” Devol
asked. “I doubt they all discovered the location at the same time we did.
Maybe at least a few knew about the nocalocs right away and came here. It’s
probably better to wait in this village than the cave.”
They turned to leave, anxious to escape the smell. “Maybe, but we’re
only an hour away from a few villages and a couple of hours away from
larger cities. If they intended to wait until the day of the trials, why do it in
this village when there are way better options relatively close by?”
Devol pushed the door open. “Maybe they wanted to see who else was
coming…” His words faltered and all of them stared, wide-eyed. The fog
outside had thickened considerably and made almost all the buildings look
like silhouettes despite being a few meters in front of them. “We were in
there for only a couple of minutes, right?”
“At most.” Jazai grunted and scratched his head in bewilderment. “I
suppose we are close to both the mountains and the sea, but fog setting in this
fast is unreal.”
The swordsman looked at Asla. “Hey, what about you? Can you see
through any of this?”
She shook her head. “My wildkin traits allow me to see farther and better
in darkness than normal humans can, but not clearer. This fog obstructs my
vision the same way it does yours.”
The diviner retrieved his majestic and opened it. “Fortunately, most roads
in the town lead to the main entrance of the caves. As long as the fog doesn’t
stop you from putting one foot in front of the other, we’ll be fine.” He took a
step forward to continue their journey before Asla threw a hand out to stop
him. “Eh? What’s wrong?”
“Do you hear that?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“Hear wh—” Jazai began but cut himself off as both he and the other boy
heard something that sounded human and akin to a wail or moan. Although
they could all hear it now, it sounded weak and possibly ill. “I guess there are
others here.”
Devol grasped the hilt of his sword reflexively. “Should we check it out?”
“Do you think it could be trouble?” the apprentice asked.
Asla frowned and shook her head. “The sound— the wailing—seems
more like someone is in pain.”
The diviner flipped to another page. “If it is a squatter or another trial
candidate, they could catch any number of illnesses staying in a place like
this. But I don’t see any new entries in the book.”
“You know, you should get a name for your majestic,” Devol suggested
and surprised the other two. “They are supposed to be an extension of us,
right? Simply saying ‘majestic’ or ‘the book’ sounds so impersonal,”
“Is now honestly the time to bring that up?” the other boy demanded and
closed the tome. “You didn’t know yours had a name to begin with. It’s not
like the Templars all have names for theirs either.”
“Vaust’s is—”
“Besides Vaust,” Jazai interrupted.
“Wulfsun has one too,” the swordsman told him. “Arah’s Aegis—he told
me before we left.”
This seemed to impress his friend. “Truly? He never mentioned it,”
“Freki’s is called Primal Song,” Asla commented. “He revealed that to
you during the sparring.”
“What about Zier?” Devol asked. “I haven’t seen his majestic but he has
one too, right? I remember him telling me during my initiation.”
Jazai released his book and let it blink into his pack as he stared silently at
him. “He’s never mentioned it.”
“You’ve never asked, right?” Asla prodded and a small, knowing smile
grew on her face.
“Do you want to search for that voice or not?” he muttered and strode
forward. “Let’s go, but if it takes too long, we should head for the cave.”
The other boy dropped the subject for now as he and Asla followed their
teammate. They took a few minutes to move through the streets and check
various buildings for any occupants. The diviner was always sure to look
constantly in the direction of the caves so they would not get lost and Asla
attempted to seek the owner of the voice using her heightened senses of
hearing and smell but to no avail.
When they had no success, they agreed to search for a little longer but by
now, everything was silent. They had not even heard a second wail since the
first one.
Devol was about to call it off but something caught his eye. “Hey, guys,”
he called and pointed to a bright light at the far end of an alley ahead of them.
“Look at this.”
The trio moved carefully through the alley and closer to the light. Once
they reached the other side, they stepped into a small clearing that would
have made a good garden or perhaps a patio for a restaurant at one point. The
light emitted from a lantern hung on a long pole.
The swordsman looked around warily. A bedroll was spread on the
ground and a few bags were strewn about. What appeared to be a jacket or
coat hung on a string tied between the pole a small tree several feet away.
“Is this a camp?” Asla asked a little disbelievingly.
“Indeed it is,” a man replied. All three spun as one. Devol grasped the
handle of his sword as Jazai pointed his ringed hand toward the sound of the
voice and Asla crouched in readiness.
A tall, slightly portly man with disheveled brown hair flecked with white
and a goatee entered the clearing through the fog. He wore white slacks,
shoes, and a gray vest and held a hand up to greet them. “I’m sorry to startle
you. I couldn’t even see you through all this fog.”
The young swordsman eased his grasp on his weapon slightly. The man’s
voice and smiling face made him believe he was at least not outright vicious.
But given the area, he would have to know a little more than that to relax
completely. “We’re sorry for intruding. Is this your camp?”
“Yes—well, for the time being,” the stranger answered and stopped only
a few yards away from them. He placed his hand on his chest and bowed.
“My name is Merri Giovannini and I’m a traveling healer.”
“A traveling healer?” Jazai asked and relaxed somewhat. “What are you
doing here?”
“Traveling,” Merri said and chuckled good-naturedly at the joke. “Well, I
was traveling through the kingdom. I was on my way after taking care of an
older patient in Petoile about a week ago when I helped a magi who was in
the area. He was delirious and running a high fever. It turned out he had been
poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Devol asked. “Bandits?”
“I haven’t come across any,” the man replied. “He said it was another
magi but not one he knew and that they were probably someone trying to
remove him from the competition for the Oblivion Trials.”
“You know about the trials?” The swordsman’s question contained real
surprise, although he couldn’t think why.
“Indeed. You learn much by wandering around as long as I have. Plus I
like to make conversation while I work.” He walked to one of his bags,
opened it, and pulled a large pot out. “After I treated him, he brought me here
and told me about the caves where the trials will take place. When he left to
return to his village, I decided to stay here for a while and perhaps help any
others who might fall victim to…uh, overzealous competitiveness.”
He retrieved a few pieces of metal and began to set a tripod up to hang
the pot on, then turned to Devol and pointed behind him. “Do you mind
bringing some of that wood behind you for me?”
The boy noticed several small bushels of wood and he finally let his hand
drop away from his sword as he went to gather some for the man, who took
out a large canteen. “Why set up a camp? I’m sure one of these buildings
would make a good temporary lodging.”
Merri laughed. “True, but they are also infested with all manner of critters
and insects, not to mention the general rot and decay. I wouldn’t be of any
help to anyone if I became sick. While this isn’t the best place to be, I’ve
made do quite nicely, I think.”
Devol brought the wood and set it under the tripod as the man tied the pot
to it and poured out the contents of the canteen. It appeared to be broth of
some kind at first glance. That done, he placed the canteen beside him and
scratched his head as he stood. “Now, where did I put that flint?”
Jazai sighed and walked forward, bent down, and pointed a finger at the
wood. “Immolate,” he incanted and summoned a small flame to ignite the
campfire.
“Oh, thank you kindly,” Merri said gratefully. “Are you a conjurer?”
“A diviner, technically,” the boy stated as he straightened and dusted his
hands off. “But I’ve studied all the schools of magic.”
“My, you must be quite gifted,” the healer said with another jolly laugh.
“I’m a transmuter myself and focus on light magic.”
“Light magic?” Jazai gaped at him. “That usually doesn’t work all that
well with transmutation.”
“It can be tricky,” the man admitted with a sigh and he seemed to briefly
be lost in memories of long ago. “Most of my colleagues focused on nature
magic or using pure mana for their healing abilities. But I discovered that
being able to transmute with light magic allowed me to heal others in ways
that the normal methods could not accomplish. I learned to use light magic to
repair damaged nerves, replace skin, and even replace blood by passing the
magic of light through it and then transmuting it into whatever was needed.
Many of my patients claimed they felt better than they ever had before.”
“That sounds incredible!” Devol remarked, now not only at ease but
astonished at what the man had revealed. “You should be demonstrating this
at universities or working in Monleans. Why are you a traveler?”
Merri retrieved a cutting board and some vegetables from another sack
and began to slice them with a small knife he took from a sheath at his waist.
“Like your friend said, transmutation and light magic are not the most
comfortable of bedfellows. I’m a somewhat unique case because I threw all
my life into developing it. And even then, I have not been able to pass on my
teachings to many others. It requires a certain knack for the magic to work
that most seem to lack.” He raised his thumb and middle finger, snapped
them together, and produced a very small flame that almost immediately blew
out. “Doing something like your friend did there is beyond me. Most magi
can produce a flame strong enough to light a candle. I can barely manage
that. Maybe I was wrong to say you need a ‘knack’ for it. Perhaps merely an
obsession will do.”
“I beg your pardon,” Asla began and knelt beside him. “But we wandered
into your camp looking for someone. We heard a wailing not too long ago
and were trying to see if anyone was around.”
The healer nodded and sliced into a carrot as his smile faltered and shifted
into a frown of concern. “I heard it as well and went looking on my own. But
I had no luck either. I only heard it a couple of times, then nothing more than
silence until I ran into you. I thought it was simply the dread of the town that
had begun to wear on me.”
“I was going to suggest that,” Jazai admitted. “But I guess we can’t all
imagine the same thing.”
“I hope they wander by. If they are ill, I can treat them, and I decided to
make a meal and offer them some if they did exist,” Merri stated and looked
at the three friends. “I’d be happy for you to join me. I’ve run into some other
magi over the last few days but they seemed more concerned with getting
into the caves than a conversation. It would be a pleasure to share some of
my stew with you.”
Devol looked at the others, who both still seemed bewildered by the
situation. He shrugged and nodded. “The trials don’t begin until tomorrow. It
would be nice to get one last good meal in before we started.”
“Splendid!” The man nodded enthusiastically as he added the vegetables
to the pot. “I can also give you an examination before you go as well if you
like to make sure you have no sicknesses coming on before the big event.”
“I think we’re good,” Jazai said and answered for his teammates. He
looked at the dark clouds above. “Will it be all right to stay out here? It looks
like rain is coming in.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine. The clouds seem to threaten that every day but we
haven’t had a drop,” Merri told them and turned toward another of his bags.
“But it is good to keep that in mind. After all, you never want to be caught in
a storm—one of the most basic tips for health.” He took out a sack of
wrapped meat and hid a small vial under it. “It’s the quickest way to catch the
death of cold.”
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“You were able to restore her sight?” Devol asked in bewilderment. “That’s
incredible.”
“It was a miracle, even compared to the things I’ve seen,” Merri admitted
as he stirred the pot of stew. “It was probably the longest procedure I had
ever attempted.”
“A miracle indeed,” Jazai muttered. “Your ability is exceptional.”
The man laughed and rested a hand on his bouncing belly. “Thank you.
It’s always a good day when I get a compliment from another dedicated to
the mana arts. But to be honest, there have been situations where I could have
done better.” He sighed as he picked a small spoon up, scooped a little of the
stew, and tasted it. “Those will be the ones I always linger on.”
The swordsman nodded. “We all have those times. It’s important to
remember to use them to move forward and strengthen yourself.”
Merri responded with a warm smile. “Of course. Those are wise words
coming from someone of your age.”
“I’ve had good teachers,” he admitted with a grin. “And an astute
mother.”
Jazai stood and stretched nonchalantly. “Devol, we need to talk about the
trials while we have a breather,” he stated and moved down the alley. “Come
with me.”
He pushed quickly to his feet and looked at his friend in confusion.
“Huh? All right.” He caught up to the diviner and they stepped into the fog-
infested town on the other side of the alley. “What are you thinking about?”
“Him,” his friend said in a low tone and peered through the alley as if to
make sure no one was watching. “There’s something off about him.”
 “Merri? He seems nice enough,” Devol replied carefully but looked in the
same direction as his friend did. “Although it does seem odd to simply hang
around here, especially if he knows what’s happening with the trials.”
“That’s my point. I think he might have given himself away.” Jazai
frowned and looked warily around them. “When he mentioned that magi he
healed who had been attacked, it wasn’t something I considered but it is so
obvious.”
“That we could be attacked before the trials?” he asked and folded his
arms. “My father mentioned that there have been more muggings than usual
in Monleans and the areas around there. He said people claimed that black
signets were stolen.”
The diviner nodded. “It’s not a bad strategy to eliminate your competition
before they even arrive and everyone is on their guard.”
“But what makes you think Merri is taking part? I didn’t see a signet on
him.”
Jazai took his signet out and brushed it with his thumb. “You only need a
signet to enter. He could have taken someone else’s and simply have hidden
it. It would be easy enough to use his ruse as a traveling healer to catch other
magi who come through here.”
Devol frowned as he considered this. “I guess so, but he seems so nice.
And if what he says is true about his healing ability, it’s remarkable.”
“That’s also suspicious,” the other boy contested as he slid his signet into
his pocket. “I won’t lie that there are scholars and the like who are somehow
both very selective about what is considered of ‘great interest’ and
simultaneously dismissive of anything that could shake the foundations of
their standing. Gatekeeping is a bitch like that.” He glanced furtively down
the alley. “But if even half of what he is saying is true, numerous places
would take him in and even more would at least give him a chance to prove
it. If he hasn’t been accepted by any academy or any scholar guilds, there
must be another component to it.”
“So you think he’s merely a yarn-spinner?” The swordsman scratched the
back of his head. “I guess that sounds likely but he seems so nice.”
“Hopefully, that’s all he is,” Jazai replied and turned to him again. “I’ve
felt something in the air—traces of mana—but now that I have a feel for his,
I know it can’t be him I’m tapping into.”
“We are outside the caves,” Devol pointed out. “More magi could be
coming through on their way to the trials.”
 “Maybe,” his friend agreed with a nod and squinted into the fog. “But I
doubt that any magi who couldn’t hide their mana efficiently would be able
to make it far enough to be considered for the trials or take the signet of
another magi who had. Something is off and I plan to take a look around.”
He studied the diviner for a moment and realized that he might be too lax
given the situation they were in. Any magi could be considered an enemy
from this point on, even one who seemed as welcoming as Merri. “Do you
need me to go with you?”
Jazai shook his head. “Keep an eye on him and be alert while I hunt
around a little. We have the a-stones to stay in contact and I’ll let you know if
there’s a problem.”
Devol nodded and tapped the pouch that held his stone. “All right but be
back soon.”
The other boy held his thumb and middle finger up. “That’s the plan.”
With a snap, he blinked away.
The swordsman walked through the alley to where Asla and Merri chatted
easily, apparently about wildkin biology. “Welcome back,” the man said and
leaned forward to look around him. “Where’s your scholarly friend?”
“He wanted to stretch his legs. His nerves were getting to him as he’s
anxious about the trials,” he lied and sat beside Asla. He looked furtively at
her to try to see any signs that she was as suspicious as Jazai. She looked
calm for the most part but he realized she was crouched rather than seated,
ready to move at a moment’s notice if need be.
“Is that so? He hides it well.” Merri took another mouthful of stew and
nodded approvingly. “It’s almost ready and there’s more than enough to go
around. How much would you like?”
Devol settled his gaze on the stew and his inner caution took hold. “I
think something about this fog is messing with me,” he replied and held a
hand out. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Neither am I,” Asla agreed with a suspicious glance at the pot.
The man frowned but shrugged. “Is that so? It’s a pity but at least I’ll
have leftovers.”

Jazai was now several blocks away but he had not forgotten the location of
the camp. He still felt the strange magic in the air but it seemed that no matter
which direction he moved in, it didn’t grow stronger or weaker and he
couldn’t decide if it was below or above him.
As he prepared to blink down another street, he heard the moaning again
and this time, it didn’t echo through the air. It was almost too quiet to hear
but it came from his left. He looked toward a large building that appeared to
be a blacksmith or perhaps a repair shop for the mining equipment at one
time. Cautiously, he approached it and listened intently for another noise, and
as he began to ascend the stairs to the front door, he heard it again very
clearly from within the structure.
He grasped the handle and turned it as quietly as he could while he
prepared his enchanted rings. The door opened into an empty lobby. He
moved deeper in and followed the halls and the sounds of the moaning that
almost certainly indicated someone in pain. It sounded like they were trying
to form words but they couldn’t muster the energy to do so and a moment
later, the noise ceased entirely.
With a frown, he continued to sneak through the hall but still heard
nothing to guide his progress, although he noticed claw marks gouged into
doors and along a few of the walls. These weren’t from the wood rotting
away. They looked like they were scratched in although he couldn’t tell if it
was recently or well in the past.
Finally, he reached a pair of double doors. They each had a window in the
middle that was partially broken, and one stood ajar. He stepped inside and
noticed the remnants of titling above. The faded lettering on it indicated that
this was the main work floor of some kind of assembly plant.
A few lanterns were lit and cast a dim light, the only signs thus far of
activity or that someone was there. His gaze drifted over a couple of small
belt lines still within, worn and rusted, and he almost looked past them but
noticed something hanging off one of them. From where he stood, it appeared
to be an arm and it looked human.
“Who’s there?” Jazai demanded, extended a hand, and summoned a low-
level light. His jaw dropped when he confirmed that it was indeed an arm—
decayed, gray-skinned, and full of dark spots—that was not attached to
anyone. He moved to retrieve his a-stone when he heard the wailing again.
Startled, he spun toward a cabinet he hadn’t noticed before. Chains had
been wound around the handles but it was slightly open and the voice came
from within. The diviner dismissed the light and pointed to the chains.
“Liquify.” They turned to mush and fell off the doors. Almost as soon as they
did, both doors burst open and two bodies fell out but only one moved.
The man’s skin was ragged and dark spots were visible on his face and
hands. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in months but flailed at the boy and
tried to speak, while saliva dripped out of his mouth. “Geee… Heeelll…
Ruuuun!”
Jazai held his ringed hand out in shock and his eyes widened when he
saw, peeking from beneath the ring on his index finger, a dark spot that
seemed to grow.
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Asla sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Is something wrong?” Devol asked and looked around to see if he could
identify the source of her discomfort because he certainly couldn’t smell it.
“A foul smell is coming from deeper in the town,” she said and glanced at
her friend. “Where’s Jazai? I would think he would be back by now.”
He shrugged and dug in his pouch for his a-stone. “I’m not entirely sure
but he did say he wouldn’t be long.”
“Do you think your friend is in trouble?” Merri asked as he raised a
spoonful of stew to his lips. “It could it be that he ran into another magi while
looking around the town.”
The a-stone glowed as it activated. He called to his friend telepathically
but heard nothing in response. Although he knew it wasn’t necessary, he sent
the tiniest amount of mana into it in the hope that this might help to establish
a connection and tried again. “That’s strange,” he remarked and turned to the
wildkin. “These worked before we left the castle.”
Asla retrieved her stone and repeated what he had done. “I get no
response either, so I doubt the stones aren’t working. There must be
something blocking them.” She frowned, stood hastily, and put the stone
away. “I’ll go to look for him.”
He pushed to his feet, ready to follow. “Wait, Asla. I’ll go with—”
“It’s all right,” she said, turned, and held a hand out to stop him. “If there
is someone here who means to do us harm, you should remain behind to
watch Mister Giovannini.” She cast a knowing glance at him, which he
accepted with a nod. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll find a way to let you know.
I’ll be back soon.” With that, she hurried away and disappeared into the fog.
 Devol sighed and sat again. “Jazai said the same thing,” he muttered and
tapped his fingers nervously against his knee.
“I hope I’m not a bother,” Merri said and placed his bowl down. “It’s
kind of you to remain behind to look after me.”
The boy looked up and grinned halfheartedly. “It’s no trouble and it’s
probably the smart thing to do. If someone out there is picking us off for
whatever reason, it’s better to not all be in one place and let them surprise
us.”
“That is certainly true.” The healer glanced at the still-warm pot. “Are
you certain I can’t interest you in any stew? There’s a great deal left and I’m
sure this sudden development makes you anxious. You should have
something in you to be at your best. Even novice healers can give that
advice.”
He shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m good,”
“How about an examination? I can look you over and make sure nothing
is wrong. Perhaps you were tricked earlier or have contracted something
while walking around the town.”
Devol looked speculatively at the man, who had suddenly become quite
pushy. True, he could simply be trying to be kind given the circumstances,
but both his teammates seemed suspicious of him. While he wasn’t as
concerned as the two of them, perhaps he could use the opportunity to make
some discoveries himself.
“No, thank you,” he responded politely, straightened, and looked the
healer in the eyes. “Merri, tell me. The magi who brought you here—what
happened to her?”
“Hmm?” Merri muttered and scratched his chin. “Well, she went into the
caves. That’s where the trials are being held, correct?”
“That’s right.” He nodded and took care to hide his growing concern.
“And you’ve been here since then? About a week or so?”
“More or less,” the healer said with a nod, picked his bowl up again, and
took another mouthful. “I have no desire to attempt the challenges myself but
I can help those who do.”
“Still, as noble as that sentiment is, it is also a dangerous idea. You
should know that,” Devol replied. “If one of them were hostile, how would
you be able to deal with them?”
Merri chuckled and waved his spoon at the swordsman. “I appreciate
your concern, young lad, but I am not so feeble as to fall to an overly
aggressive wandering magi. If I have a run-in with a hostile traveler, I can
take care of myself.”
“How’s that?” he questioned. “You told us earlier that you spent so much
of your time focused on your particular style of magic that any other school
was well beyond you.”
The man stiffened and looked at him, momentarily surprised, but eased
quickly into a relaxed slouch. “Oh, well, you are right there, but I’ve had to
learn a few tricks as I travel all over the realm for my occupation and
practice. As a result, I do have a few abilities up my sleeve.”
“I see,” Devol muttered. “I have a couple of other questions, Merri.”
“Certainly.” The healer dug his spoon into the stew, preparing for another
scoop. “What would you like to know?”
“Why have you lied to us so far?” he asked, his voice stern as he accused
the jolly healer.
Merri paused for a second before he placed the spoon into his mouth and
looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“The magi you said you helped—you referred to them as a ‘he,’” the boy
recalled and his eyes narrowed. “And you said he went back to his village
and didn’t continue into the caves. For a gifted healer such as yourself, I
don’t think your memory is so inefficient as to forget something you said a
half-hour earlier. My guess is you relied on me to remember the details of
your lies for you.”
The man frowned slightly but not in anger or shock, more in
disappointment or contemplation. He sighed and emptied the next uneaten
spoonful of stew into the pot before he looked to the side as if trying to see
something through the fog and the buildings.
“He’s probably at least begun dealing with the other two,” he murmured.
The other two? The young swordsman tensed. Is he talking about Asla
and Jazai?
“What’s going on, Merri?” he demanded and pushed to his feet. “Who’s
he?”
“A friend of mine,” the man answered and scratched the back of his head.
“I did think of continuing the lie for a while longer. I could probably have
made something up but I’m not that gifted when it comes to deceit.” He
laughed before he stood as well. “You seemed so kind, I didn’t think you
would try to catch me out like that.”
Devol reached back for his majestic. “Did anything you say have even a
grain of truth in it?”
“Oh, most was completely true, I assure you,” he promised. “As I said,
I’m not a gifted liar. You caught most of the outright lies and almost
everything else was exaggeration or half-truth. I am indeed a healer and a
traveling one at that, but I have been employed in a couple of academies.”
For a moment, the boy could see a spark of anger in his eyes. “Ones that
were more than eager to help in my research when it benefitted them until my
ideas became too much of a liability, despite the promise they showed. At
that point, they decided it was better to be rid of me.” He looked at the boy
and the hint of anger turned to sympathy. “I suppose I know what they were
thinking, given that I’m thinking it’s better to be rid of you now.”
Devol drew Achroma and held it in front of him. “Stand down, Merri!”
The healer sighed as he drew out the small blade he had used to cut the
vegetables as well as a vial containing a clear liquid that was hidden up his
sleeve. “This would have been much more convenient if you had simply had
some stew.”

As Asla leapt across the buildings, following the rancid odor, she discerned
another. This one was more familiar and earthy, a warm scent that contained
a tinge of ink and dusty scrolls—Jazai’s scent.
She landed on a rusted weathervane that snapped under her weight and
forced her to flip and land on the edge of the roof. When she’d regained her
balance, she sniffed the air. Jazai was close and her gaze settled on a large
building with an open door. Quickly, she bounded off the roof and raced up
the stairs.
The wildkin pushed through the open doors and into an empty lobby, and
the smell struck her like a punch from angry daemoni. This was the smell of
death—one that left the body to waste away long before the light in the eyes
departed. Two sets of halls stretched before her and she prepared to move
down one when she noticed a large tome on a table between them. It
wouldn’t usually have caught her attention given the situation, but this one
was familiar. She knew immediately that it was Jazai’s majestic.
Her heart began to race as she wondered what had happened to him. He
wouldn’t simply leave it alone like this. The thought made her fearful that he
perhaps wasn’t conscious. She approached the book and in response, it
opened suddenly of its own accord and words began to write on the blank
page. They were addressed to her.
Asla, I can sense you. Stay where you are for now.
She hesitated. Her friend was still alive as he was the only one who could
use the book in such a fashion. One option was that he was writing under
duress but she immediately discarded that. Knowing how brash and willful he
was, she was sure he wouldn’t do anything demanded of him by another no
matter what they threatened him with.
Before she could consider any other options, the writing continued and
her heart went from beating rapidly to sinking at the words that followed.
There is an enemy here, Asla, and we need to finish him quickly. They
tricked us from the start. We have been dying from the moment we stepped
foot in this town.
 C H A P T E R S E V E NT E E N

Merri doused his knife with the clear liquid, most likely some kind of poison.
Devol struck immediately while he was distracted. He swung his blade at the
liar but his target blinked and vanished. Instinctively, he spun to where the
man now stood behind him and seemed surprised by his swift reaction.
The swordsman slashed at him but the portly man was much faster than
one would believe when looking at him. He backed away from the strike
although the tip of the long blade was able to cut through his shirt and
slightly into his chest. Blood welled but the wound sealed almost
immediately. It seemed he had indeed told the truth about his healing ability.
“No hesitation at all,” Merri mused aloud as he jumped back. “You truly
are more than a young magi in over your head, aren’t you?”
“Is that the impression you had when you saw us?” Devol asked and
brandished his blade defiantly. “It seems you read people as well as you lie.”
His opponent chuckled. “I think my skill is better than most. It comes in
handy when I have to examine a patient.”
The boy glowered at him. “Patient? If you were truly a healer at one point
in your life, why are you attacking me? And what have you done to my
friends?”
“Technically, whatever is happening to them, they did themselves,”
Merry countered. “They were the ones who left, after all. And there is more
than one way to heal, Devol.” He grinned as he spun the knife in his hand.
“You can repair damage or destroy the disease. Both count as healing.”
“And that’s all you see me as? Is that all you see anyone as?” he
demanded and lunged into another attack. “A disease?”
He thrust his blade forward and the man dodged to the right and prepared
to slice into him with his knife. The young swordsman planted his feet and
swung to drive the pommel of his sword into the side of his opponent’s head
and knock the magi down with a startled gasp.
Devol flipped his blade so it pointed down and prepared to skewer the liar
but before his blade could make contact, Merri blinked away again and
appeared several meters away, rubbing his head.
“Not everyone, and before you get all high and mighty, I am indeed a
healer.” He shook his head and held his knife up to reveal the blood on it.
The boy checked his body and noticed a small cut on his right arm, probably
inflicted mere seconds before he was able to hit him.
While he might have not been a healer, sealing the tiny wound with mana
was easy enough for him although he was now concerned about the poison
the man had coated his blade with. It was little more than a scratch but for
some toxins, that was more than enough.
“I see a trace of worry in your eyes, boy,” Merri noted with a smirk as he
held the blade to his lips. “Are you worried that I poisoned my blade? There
is no need to fret. It wasn’t poison at all.” He twirled the blade. “It was
merely alcohol to clean the blade and I’m sure you would much rather prefer
to be cut by a clean blade than by a dirty one—a basic health tip for you.”
It could be another lie, of course, but Devol felt no ill effects from the
injury. Whatever his adversary planned, he would not let him accomplish it.
Unfortunately, the older magi took away the option to stop him before the
determination had taken root. He placed the flat end of his blade against his
tongue and let the blood coat it before he swallowed it, leaving the boy
shocked and revolted.
“Yes, that’s usually the response from others,” the man admitted when he
saw the horror on his face. “It’s not too pleasant for me either if it is any
consolation. But fortunately for you, my young friend, you won’t have that
memory for too much longer.” Merri used the knife to rip his tunic and reveal
numerous scars on his body, all in elaborate patterns that went from the tops
of his shoulders down over his chest to his waist and covered at least most of
the upper half of his body. “Once I give you a demonstration of my life’s
work, I’m afraid I will have to end yours.”
Listen close… Wait, scratch that. Read thoroughly, Asla, and keep your
anima up.
Now didn’t seem the time for puns or corrections but that was typical of
Jazai. She picked the tome up and backed slowly toward the exit. Her
impatience demanded that he hurry and explain what was happening so she
knew how to respond.
I’m close to the middle of the factory and the enemy is somewhere
directly above me. He can control this fog or at least use his malefic’s power
to manipulate it somehow. Also, he is spreading some kind of disease. I don’t
know if he devised it or if it’s simply what his malefic creates, but it weakens
the control of mana and makes the body decay slowly over time. The closer
you are to him, the faster it seems to work.
If Jazai was directly under him, she didn’t want to imagine what might
have happened to him. Asla was about to exit the building but she turned and
looked down the halls, preparing to run inside to get to him. The letter
continued to write, however, and made her hesitate.
Do not worry about me right now. I may not have my book but I know
you. Your concern is sweet and all but if we are both trapped, we’re in a deep
amount of trouble. If I could teleport out I would have done so by now. It’s
not an option as I have to focus all my remaining mana into my anima to stop
myself from rotting away. I’ve already developed dark spots on my hand and
leg.
The wildkin checked her body quickly and drew up one of her sleeves.
She gasped as she saw two small, gray spots on her left arm, but they weren’t
too dark yet. Hopefully, that meant she had time. She released more mana to
strengthen her anima while she tried not to pour too much out and expose
herself.
I’ve seen a couple of poor souls who are in the last stages of this disease
and it’s not pretty. The one silver lining is that if we can destroy the malefic
or at least stop the user, that will stop the spread of the disease. I’m not sure
if that will reverse the effects, but one problem at a time.
Asla bit her lip and finally jumped back and landed at the foot of the
stairs in front of the entrance to the building. She looked up. The structure
was about four stories tall and she guessed that the malefic-user was at the
top. If they could spread this disease all over the town, they would need a
higher vantage point.
I know this is a lot to ask for you to face a malefic-user alone but I believe
in you. If you can, bring them to me and I can help you finish them. Go now.
See if you can reach Devol and let him know, just in case.
She shut the tome and placed it on the stairs. Jazai could retrieve it as
soon as he was free. She took her a-stone out and tried to reach Devol but
could hear nothing. Worse, she felt slightly lightheaded during her attempt.
She shook it off and put the stone away. If she was already falling under the
effects of this odd disease, she needed to work fast.
The wildkin extended her claws, leapt up, and used them to attach herself
to the building and thrust herself higher toward the top floor. She crawled to a
window and looked inside. The room was filled with fog—or perhaps not fog
but rather some kind of gas. Perhaps that was how the malefic-user dispersed
the disease through the area. He simply hid it within the fog.
Asla drew a deep breath and tried to see if she could pull the window
open, but to no avail. She peered in, located the latch, and cut a small hole in
the glass with her claws. Working quickly, she undid the latch and pulled the
window open. The gas billowed out as she snuck inside and closed the
windows, although a little gas still escaped through the hole she had made in
the window.
Making barely a sound, she crept through the room. It appeared to be a
large office, probably for the person in charge when it had been an active
facility. She peered out the doorway into a larger general area and could
barely make a figure out through the haze. He was seated and his hands
hovered around a beehive-shaped object in front of him.
As she inched closer, she could see that he appeared to be dressed in
nothing but dark bandages with a cloth wrapped around his waist. The
bandages covered him from head to foot and even obscured their ears—a
small detail that should make this easy. She looked at the object he tended. It
was also dark and shades of black, gray, and touches of violet swirled around
its cone-shaped form. The smoke poured from the top and seemed to drift in
whatever direction the user pointed to.
“You know…” he said, his voice high-pitched and raspy. “You shouldn’t
move around like that. You are disturbing the flow of my smoke.”
Asla, realizing she had been detected, lunged quickly at the magi. She let
her mana flare and she reached back with both claws and drove them forward
as her cat-shaped shadow formed around her. The user turned quickly, held
his malefic out, and launched a blast of the smoke to cover her entire body.
 C H A P T E R E I G HT E E N

Devol looked at Merri’s scarred body with shock and disgust. He noticed that
some spots were darker or oddly colored compared to others as if highlighted
with ink or treated by concoctions. Whatever the man had done to himself, he
was clearly experimenting. The enemy magi made a bitter face as the blood
he had taken from Devol worked down his throat.
“It’s always the same taste like that of seaweed and stagnant tea,” he
muttered and tossed his blade down as he stretched his arms.
The swordsman lifted his blade again and took a step forward. His
adversary was only a few yards away and while he was surprisingly wily for
a man of his build, at this distance, he would at least injure the madman.
Merri glanced at him with his easy smile, although in the current
circumstances it was far more haunting than comforting. “I know it seems
hypocritical, but I do apologize for all the lies I’ve told until now. I promise
that you will have nothing but the truth from here on, starting with—”
The young magi did not let him finish. He used Vis to strengthen his legs
and exploded forward, raised Achroma above his head, and prepared to arc it
down at his adversary with as much strength as he could muster. The healer
raised his arms as if mocking him, but Devol’s muscles tightened and his
grasp locked.
Try as he might, he could not move his arms and instead of attacking the
evil magi, he careened past him and sprawled on the dirt and gravel. His
jacket and shirt were torn as he skidded along the rough surface for a good
ten feet. Quickly, he pushed up, rubbed the dirt off his face with his sleeve,
and paused when he felt a string on his chest, cheek, and brow. He looked at
Merri, who regarded him thoughtfully.
 “Starting with the fact that my type of magic is not light.” He raised a
hand and mana pooled into his fingertips. It went from a hazy green to a dark,
smoky color that assumed a form between liquid and gas. “It is shadow,
which is a little more practical for my study.”
Devol tried to raise his hand but it felt like his body fought against him.
Shadow and light, from what he was taught, were not the opposites most
people believed them to be. Light was able to amplify magic and also block it
out, while shadow absorbed elements and could replicate other magics and
give them a dark bent. One could counter the other but it all depended on the
power of the wielder and how they used it.
He wondered if the heaviness and restricted movement he felt was the
result of a curse or spell his opponent had used, but he had not seen him use
either, at least not obviously. Neither he nor his friends had eaten or drank
anything offered so it couldn’t have been poison.
“Are you confused? You seem to be,” Merri commented and stretched his
arms again. “Allow me to clarify some things for you, if I may.” The boy’s
body went rigid again and his arms raised and stretched like his adversary’s.
When the older magi faced his palms toward each other and clapped, Devol’s
did the same. His hands still clutched Achroma and it dawned on him in one
terrifying moment.
“Shadow magic is both reviled and yet somehow pitied amongst most
other types,” the healer mused, rolled his shoulders, and smiled when the
boy’s followed suit. “It certainly has been used for evil in much of the history
of our realm. There aren’t many stories of great heroes facing dark foes with
dark magic, and yet most mock it for only being able to replicate or consume
other magics and having no true appeal beyond being the magic of copycats.”
He now smiled through clenched teeth and displayed a more crazed type of
excitement. “I decided to lean into that and it has born me promising fruit.”
“You’re controlling me,” the young swordsman gasped and his arms
shook as he tried to fight it. “How? My anima should protect me from any
spell you cast on me.”
Merri nodded. “True, and I must commend you for your anima. It’s very
powerful for someone your age. But I am not controlling your body through a
simple spell or even your flesh, precisely. The sample of blood I took earlier,
although minute, was more than enough for my shadow magic to latch onto
—not only your blood but your magic—in order to mimic it. But that would
normally not be enough for a feat like this.”
 He tiled his hands so the blade in Devol’s grasp turned on its side. “But
that would be where my research”—he nodded at his scarred body—“came
into play. You see, I came across some interesting artifacts in my travels,
ones you may be familiar with. They are referred to as malefics, I believe?”
The surprise on the boy’s face gave the shadow-user his answer. “That would
be correct, it seems.”
“Then this is the work of a malefic?” he demanded and continued to try to
fight the hold over him with little success.
His adversary shook his head disapprovingly. “No. I have no interest in
obtaining one—unlike my partner, who has talked nonstop of their benefits
despite the obvious toll it has taken on his body.” The words dripped with
condescension as he rolled his eyes. “What use is heightened power taken or
traded for rather than earned or acquired? The only use they had for me was
to spark an idea—what if I could use the idea of them for myself? Find a way
to enhance magic and mold to my purposes outside of traditional venues?
“It’s not exactly a brand-new thought, but when I came across the
malefics and heard the tales of how they came to be through dabbling by the
Templars of old…” He smiled and the edges of Devol’s twitched jolt upward
briefly before going slack as he gritted his teeth. “I found some old books—
not exactly on the market and with poor handwriting too—but they fed those
sparks until they began to become a flame in my mind. I tried various items
and curios in my attempts to replicate them for myself, but to no avail.
“Finally, I reasoned that I needed something I was more familiar with.”
He placed one hand across his scarred chest and the boy did the same and he
felt the sting of the wounds across his torso from the fall. “And as I said, not
everything I said was a lie. I am indeed a healer and very familiar with the
human body, my own especially so. It worked out well. These scars are, in
fact, runes and wards that I have infused with various things—my own spells
and concoctions—and I succeeded in a way, although this kind of
marionetting wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for.”
Devol shifted his left foot, this time not due to Merri’s movement but his
own. Either he was finally breaking loose or the man’s control was
weakening. Perhaps if he could keep him talking long enough, it would be
enough to free himself entirely. “What were you hoping for?”
The magi’s expression changed from one of devious glee to a glazed,
almost melancholy one. “That magic I talked about before—the ability to
heal with light and treat wounds and disease that seem fatal in our age? It
does exist, child. I have seen it.” His hand returned to the other and Devol’s
took hold of Achroma again. “But it is not of our realm. The healer who
developed this miraculous magic is an angeli from Avadon and she…” He
looked down and eyes widened slightly as he looked from the boy’s foot to
his and he chuckled. “Well, damn. It appears that I have almost let myself be
my downfall. It’s embarrassing but it has been so long since I’ve had such
attentive company.”
Merri lurched forward and although the boy fought against it, his throat
soon pressed against Achroma’s edge. He struggled but he had no idea how
to fight against something like this. When he tried to force himself back or
away from the blade, it would merely make his body shudder but not move.
He could make small movements with his feet and fingers now, but nothing
sufficient to pry himself off his blade. With a mixture of rage and fear, he
looked at the light of his majestic and understood what his enemy intended to
do— kill the young magi with his own blade.
“I would prefer another method,” the man commented with a sad sigh. “A
warrior taking their own life is considered a great dishonor in many
kingdoms, but needs must when—” He stopped for a moment and uttered a
short laugh. “Well, never mind that. I take no pleasure in this, my boy, but if
it is any consolation, your body will be returned to your loved ones at least in
a better condition than your friends’.”
With all other options exhausted, Devol began to pour his mana into
Achroma. The blade illuminated and he was able to fight against Merri’s
control long enough to look at him with not fear but hatred in his eyes. He
almost felt that he had let himself get caught and his caution against an
unknown opponent made him hesitant to attempt a decisive blow, but with
everything in him, he wished he could have that opportunity now.
The crazed magi drew a heavy breath and tightened his hand to fists.
“Farewell, Devol.” He drew his hands down and the boy unwillingly did the
same to drag Achroma across his throat. The young swordsman waited for
the pain and the splash of warm blood down his throat and the oncoming
darkness of death.
None of that came, however. His body seemed light and loose now as if
Merri’s enchantment had never been. He wondered if it was because he was
already dead. Achroma clattered to the dirt and his legs gave out beneath him.
A light glowed below him and he frowned in confusion. He couldn’t see the
source but it seemed to come from directly below his chin.
 Something warm splashed on his head and he reached up and felt
something slick in his hair. He knew instinctively that it was blood and
looked up. His expression matched the shock on Merri’s face as blood and
light poured out of the older magi’s neck.
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

The malefic-user picked himself up off the floor. Some of the bandages
around his arms and waist loosened as he cocked his head at Asla, who had
now dived through the man’s blast of smoke, her anima able to protect her
from its immediate effects.
“Another one. I take it Merri was unable to deal with you.” He sighed and
stretched his neck until it cracked twice. “Incompetent bastard. All he had to
do was make you sit around for a while. How has he not managed to learn
this after all the times he’s had the opportunity to do so?”
Asla hissed and held her claws up, and the malefic-user noticed her
gauntlets. “Well, that’s prettier than most exotics. And your anima is quite
something but it would take more than that to still be standing after a blast
from such a short distance.” He moved his hand to shift some of the bandages
near his mouth and displayed a toothy grin. “A majestic user, then? And a cat
wildkin by the looks of you. I haven’t seen one of you fall to my poison
before. I wonder what the decay will look like?”
She stepped forward, her claws up and at the ready, but when she saw her
arms, a gasp escaped. Two new dark marks had appeared on her left arm and
one on her right. While her anima might have protected her from the
immediate effects, she was not safe as long as she remained this close. She
looked at the censer from which the smoke continued to pour.
“Why so worried, kitten?” the man asked as he picked the smoke-
billowing object up. “Are you worried about the poison my dear Chantarelle
is pushing out?” He knelt and patted the floor with one hand. “Come here.
Don’t be shy. Maybe if you and I play a while, I’ll reverse the effects for
you.”
 Her anima flared as she began to stalk forward angrily. “Oh, aren’t you in
the mood? Maybe I should be more polite.” He scratched his chest and a
bandage fell away to reveal graying skin beneath it. “My name is Hem.
What’s yours, my little kitten?”
The wildkin growled as she leapt at him. Hem was caught by surprise by
her speed but spun quickly as a large puff of smoke from the malefic
obscured him. She barely missed with her first attack but landed on one foot
as he raised the censer to hit her with it. Immediately, she bounded back and
slashed her claws at him, and while he was able to pull his arm away, her
majestic increased the reach of her strike and three large gashes appeared on
his arm. Hem uttered a pained yelp and scurried back.
“Gah, that stings like—” He stopped himself and fumbled in the satchel
on his waist to produce more bandages before he placed the malefic on the
floor again. “Well, you certainly have an excess of energy. I’m not much of a
fighter myself but I wonder if you can keep that up, kitty. After all, it takes
considerable mana to maintain your anima and use your majestic. One surely
has to give.”
Asla glanced at her arms. The spots had darkened and more had appeared.
She felt weary now and like the blood in her body was turning to thick
sludge. Her breathing had thinned and she felt hot. Without a doubt, this was
affecting her. She needed to kill this assassin soon or her death would be slow
and she would be at his mercy until she finally passed.
Hem twirled his hands and the smoke passed through his fingers and
began to dance in his hands. “Do you care to trade stories?” he asked and
formed the smoke into a small orb in his hands. “Would you believe that I
used to be a healer? Exactly like Merri, which is probably why we hit it off at
first.”
He began to circle her as she stalked in the opposite direction. “I was
accompanying an archaeological expedition team in Osira, which is where I
found my dear Chantarelle.” He looked endearingly at the malefic for a
moment as it released another burst of poison gas to thicken the fog. Asla
took the chance to strike, sprinted toward him, and attempted to slice his
throat.
The magi loosed the sphere of gas he had toyed with and vanished into
the thickened smoke as she dipped under the attack and slashed at nothing.
She looked at the malefic and dove toward it as she empowered her gauntlets
in an attempt to destroy it. They merely impacted the wooden flooring as the
cursed object streaked to the other side of the room as if snatched by a
magical hand—which was certainly possible if this magi had any skill outside
the malefic.
“It was she who called to me,” Hem continued. The wildkin saw several
visages within the smoke, all roughly in his shape. She wondered if this was a
trick of his or the poison affecting her. “I learned that a ruler long ago once
had her to thank for his reign. He used her magics to kill any who opposed
him, only to grow too complacent and die as a result of an assassination plot.
She told me once I had taken her and shares all her secrets with me.”
Asla shivered instinctively. This deranged man reminded her of Salvo. He
spoke of his malefic in a similar manner and she wondered if this was some
kind of defensive mentality killers used to justify their actions—that it was
the will of their powerful objects that only they could wield, which made
them right in their minds.
She extended her arms and thrust them forward. The strikes, powered by
her majestic, reached the far walls well away from her and sliced through
almost the entire floor. They knocked aside some of the poisonous mist along
the way to reveal the real Hem stretched on his back, his malefic held above
his head.
“So you’re not in the mood for a story?” he prattled and snaked onto his
feet before he balanced the artifact on his head and held his hands out in front
of him to gather the smoke as it poured from the censer. “You are full of
tricks you, little minx, but I see your coat is getting rather ratty, isn’t it?”
The wildkin backed away. Sweat dripped down her brow as she tried to
raise her arms once again, but they refused to cooperate and dangled
uselessly at her sides. Her knees shook and she felt incredibly thirsty and
lightheaded. A dull throb of pain traveled through her whole body and her
vision blurred. She was reaching her limit and while she knew she would not
win this by attrition, she was unsure if she could inflict enough damage to kill
him with what mana she had remaining.
Her gaze settled on the place where she had broken through. She was on
the top floor and all the upper floors were made of lacquered wood, which
meant she could break through them with ease. While she needed to move
this fight away from his domain, at least, perhaps she could do better.
Hem began to throw blasts of smoke at random, mostly to taunt her. Asla
maneuvered around them. Her steps attempted grace but she was close to
simply waddling around the floor. She took her arm-mounted crossbow out
and loaded three bolts.
“Do you have another new trick for me?” Hem laughed and twirled his
fingers to make smoky halos. “Give it a try, kitty.”
The wildkin knelt and fired the three bolts. He dodged them easily with a
simple sidestep. “A desperate move,” he mocked and tossed his censer from
one hand to the other. “Those arrows are nowhere near as fast you are—or
were. You shouldn’t rely on a weapon you can’t—” His eyes bulged as he
heard something whistle ominously behind him. “What the hells? They come
back?”
He turned and one arrow barely missed his ear as he caught another in the
air but dropped his malefic. The third came in low and pierced his leg. He
shouted angrily as Asla used what remained of her mana and strength and
vaulted to the ceiling directly above him while he scrambled to retrieve his
malefic.
She pushed off the ceiling with all the force she could muster and sank
her claws into him as she pushed them both through the floor. The force of
the impact was enough to drive them both through all three levels until they
reached the first and she was finally out of the fatal haze.
They crashed into the working area of the first floor and she bounced off
him and noticed a few small splinters in her arms and foot. She looked at
Hem, who limped for a moment, but her relief was short-lived. He thrust one
of his arms out to grasp his malefic and he stood, pointed it at her, and
shambled closer.
“You bitch!” He hissed in fury and smoke poured out of the censer
toward her. “I can’t wait until your body is nothing more than a rotted puddle
of fle—” His words died with him when his head tumbled from his shoulders.
Chantarelle fell out of his hands and his body followed seconds later.
Jazai stood over him. He held a mana blade and sweated profusely, and a
dark patch had spread over most of his face. “I would like to say that made
this worth it,” he mumbled and fell onto his back in exhaustion. “But I would
be lying. Good job. You look like you crawled out of the hells.”
“Thanks. You look about the same.” She wheezed and crawled across the
floor to close the malefic. When she turned to look through the holes she had
created, the fog above that had begun to drift down now dispersed and faded
to nothing. “It’s disappearing. Is that a good sign?”
“Sure, but this is probably better.” Her friend held an arm up. Its color
returned quickly and the dark patches and spots had already lightened
noticeably.
“So it worked, then?” Asla asked with a sigh of relief as she checked her
arms and confirmed that the spots had begun to disappear. “Thank the
Astrals.”
“Yeah.” Jazai rolled his head to look at the two bodies near the cabinet,
now merely two skeletal frames with dark gray skin and patches of matted
hair. “I don’t think I’ll ever look handsome but I’d rather leave the world as a
prettier corpse than that.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y

Merri fell to his knees with his hands around his throat. Shadowy tendrils
wrapped around the wound, and the light that emitted from it not only fought
back but caused the shadows to wither back toward the magi’s fingertips.
The light around Devol’s neck dimmed and faded away to show that not
even a scar remained from where the magi had forced him to hold Achroma
against his throat. The sword continued to glow as he approached and the
shadow-user writhed for a moment before he fell with his arms at his sides
and gave in to the inevitable. Despite his predicament, his eyes began to clear
and the easy smile returned to his lips as he dragged in gasps of air, more out
of natural habit than trying to stave off death.
The young swordsman stood over him and held Achroma in both hands
as he considered simply ending the false healer with one final strike. His
adversary tilted his head with no malice or fear in his eyes as he looked at the
young boy bathed in a warm glow from the light of his majestic. He smiled as
his eyes filled with tears.
“Kiara,” he muttered. “I’ve failed Kiara.” The regret he evidenced
surprised the Templar in training and he wondered who the man had referred
to. Perhaps it was the angeli he’d mentioned earlier. He did not ask, nor did
he have the time to consider doing so. Merri pursed his lips, the blood flow
from of his wound slowed, and his eyes shut for the last time. The mana in
the magi’s body began to unravel and flow into the ground as he finally
departed the living world.
Devol lowered his blade with a sigh as he turned to move past the body.
He kicked something inadvertently, looked down, and realized that he had
nudged one of the magi’s packs, knocked it over, and spilled the contents.
Among some vials and a couple of notebooks was a smaller bag, not well
cinched, and a handful of familiar dark signets had tumbled out of it. The boy
clenched his jaw in morbid realization.
“Devol, can you hear me?” the diviner asked in his mind.
“Jazai?” He retrieved his a-stone hastily. “Are you all right? Is Asla with
you?”
“We’re fine now but knackered, I have to say. It’s not surprising since we
basically went through years of disease and medical treatment in less than an
hour,” the scholar told him. “I noticed you didn’t come looking for us. What
happened on your end?”
The swordsman glanced at Merri’s corpse. “You were right to be
suspicious of the healer.”
“Is that so?” Jazai inquired and he could sense his friend’s unease even
in his mind. “Were you able to get away from him or did you deal with him?”
He took one last look at Achroma before he sheathed it. The light had
begun to dim again and he traced his throat gingerly for a moment. “He’s
dead. I discovered that he was hunting other Oblivion Trial participants.”
His gaze settled on the signets on the ground. “He’s been quite successful at
it.”
“Asla said that the guy who trapped us here mentioned something to that
effect,” the diviner informed him. “He said he was working with Merri. Tell
me, is the fog clearing?”
Devol finally took a moment to look at his surroundings. The camp, at
least, was less shrouded and he moved cautiously through the alley and into
the street. There was only a light haze in the area now. “Yeah, it is. I can see
much more clearly now.”
“Good. It seems this bastard played a part in making the fog, although it
wasn’t fog so much as a toxic gas of some kind he produced with his
malefic.”
“Malefic?” he questioned, startled. “He was a malefic-user? Are you
both all right?”
Jazai chuckled. “It’s nice of you to ask but I wouldn’t be chatting so
casually if I was still occupied by the bastard. That smoke was nasty. It even
played havoc with the mana in the area, which was why we couldn’t establish
a connection before.”
“Where are you?” he asked as he leapt onto the sign of an old inn and
jumped onto the roof of another building from there. “I’ll meet you.”
 “Focus your Vello,” the diviner instructed. He did so instinctively and
felt a warm pulse from the northeast. “I sent out a pulse of mana. That should
give you a rough direction. Look for a four-story building, probably with
some structural damage now.”
“Is that wise?” Devol asked as he hurried down and through the alley to
the camp to retrieve his pack and the medicine bag from Asla’s satchel. He
turned in the direction of Jazai’s pulse and vaulted onto the closest roof to
move toward his friends. “What if you attract other magi?”
“I think if that were an issue, Asla pounding our new friend through three
floors would have been loud enough to bring anyone running by now. We
have a different and more pressing concern, though, since we can’t leave this
laying around.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “We should take it to the Order.”
“Well, probably, if they weren’t already on their way here,” Jazai told
him.
“Do what?”
“I’ll explain when you get here,” the diviner stated. “For now, let me
tend to Asla.”
The swordsman nodded as he continued to stride over rooftops. “All right,
I’m bringing her medicine bag. I’ll be there soon.” With that, he stowed his
a-stone and scanned the buildings around him. His gaze settled on a taller
building not far ahead. It seemed close enough to the description to be the
most likely location but before he moved closer, he felt the familiar touches
of his friends’ mana surrounding him. They would be reunited again soon.

When Devol entered the main factory area of the building, Jazai knelt next to
Asla, who lay motionlessly on her back. Far behind them was a headless
body and two other emaciated forms near a cabinet.
“Jazai, Asla,” he called, jogged closer to them, and placed the medical
bag beside the diviner. “Here. I brought some supplies.”
“They are appreciated. I’m not much of a healer, at least with magic, but I
can work with draughts and salves.” The boy opened the bag and rummaged
around. “If you want to see it, the malefic is over there—but try to not get too
close. Whiffs of smoke occasionally still puff out.”
 The swordsman’s gaze followed his friend’s hasty gesture. Near the body
was a beehive-shaped object partially wrapped in bandages around the lip of
the lid. He shuddered as he looked at the headless corpse. “Were you able to
beat him by yourselves?”
“Asla did the lion’s share—no pun intended,” Jazai explained as he
looked at two different vials, one red and the other green. “I was stuck in this
room trying not to let the poison spread.” He placed the red one down and
popped the top of the green one as he pointed to the broken ceiling. “She beat
his ass down from the top level in one massive attack that drove him through
the upper floors. He landed here and I was able to finish the job.
Unfortunately, she used much more mana doing that than I did, which meant
she had to deal with more of that poison.”
Devol turned and looked at the wildkin, who seemed to be napping. Her
skin was clammy and there were traces of sweat. “Will she be all right?”
The other boy nodded. “Yeah, the worst of it was dealt with when we
killed the user. Poisons and disease, when made by magic, are deadly and
almost impossible to treat by normal means, but they generally all have the
same cure—ending the curse or killing the user. Fortunately, malefics seem
to work on the same principle.” He tilted her head up and made her drink
about half of the green potion. She complied but pulled a face at the
bitterness. “This isn’t great but it will flush out anything remaining and begin
to rejuvenate her body. Most of this is residual shock and fatigue from her
body fighting the poison.”
“Will she be able to press on?” he asked and knelt beside them.
“I’m fairly certain, mostly because I don’t want to be the one to tell her
she can’t come. There is no point in surviving a malefic-made disease only to
die at the hands of an angry cat girl.” Jazai chuckled, swallowed some of the
potion, and made a similar face to Asla. “The person who finds a way to
make potions taste decent will make untold fortunes. Anyway, enough about
us. What happened with the healer?”
Devol stiffened slightly before he responded with a casual shrug. “Merri
was some kind of shadow magi and was hunting other trial participants, like I
said. He caught me off guard with some type of magic I have not seen before
—by swallowing some of my blood, he could control my body like a
puppet.”
The diviner froze and his gaze darted to his friend. “Seriously? What
happened?”
 With an inner shudder, he recalled how the man had almost forced him to
slit his own throat before Achroma flared and transferred the wound to the
evil magi. “I cut his throat,” he responded quietly. When he looked up, the
expression on the scholar’s face was a mixture of surprised and impressed.
“Well, you’ve certainly come a long way since you first arrived.” Jazai
picked the red potion up and gave some to Asla. “Not to make light of it but
at the beginning of this year, you probably wouldn’t have expected to have
killed two men by the end, would you?”
Devol shook his head and withdrew his black signet. “I can’t say I did.
Nor did I think I would be in a position where I would willingly walk into a
place where many more will want to kill me—or at least not have a problem
with it.” He rolled the signet between his fingers before he closed his fist
around it. “And I know I may have to kill more by the end of these trials. But
if they are like Merri and Salvo…I worry that it doesn’t bother me.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- O N E

“Here’s some water Asla,” Devol offered and the wildkin girl took it
gratefully.
“My thanks, Devol.” She lifted the canteen to her lips and took a large
sip. “I’m glad you are safe. I was worried about what would happen if I left
you alone with that man. I felt an odd presence coming off from him from the
first moment he appeared.”
He sighed as he leaned against one of the pillars. “I wish I had the same
intuition as you and Jazai. I might have been able to spare myself some
hardship.”
She shrugged as she took another sip. “If my intuition had been better, I
don’t think we would have been caught in the predicament in the first place.
The fog the malefic-user produced…well, I should have been able to sense
that something was off but I smelled nothing out of the ordinary at first. It
was only when I got close to him that…” She sighed as she placed the
canteen down. “I suppose there is no use dwelling on it. Fortunately, it all
worked out in the end.”
“How much longer will it take them?” Jazai muttered and tapped his foot.
“We were already in town by this time after we left. You would think a
Templar would be faster than three initiates.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Devol recalled and glanced at the apprentice. “You
said they were already sending someone. How did you get in touch with the
Order?”
“The same way I got in touch with you,” his friend replied impatiently
and held his a-stone up. “Your brain must be seriously addled for you to ask
such a dumb question. You know that Grand Mistress Nauru is connected to
every a-stone in the Order. I told her the situation and she said she would
send someone right away to come and collect the malefic,”
“Did she mention who she would send?” Asla asked.
“No. I imagine it would be whoever is around,” Jazai reasoned.
“Honestly, I didn’t want to connect to her for long. The longer the range
when you use the a-stone, the more mana is expended. It’s still relatively tiny
but does mean more of a chance that someone will notice it.”
“So we can use them even in different realms?” Devol was intrigued by
the thought as he’d never considered it before. He withdrew his and studied it
speculatively. “Well, that’s amazing.”
“Different realms?” Asla responded and her ears flicked. “What do you
mean?”
“The grand mistress is still at the hall, right?” he asked. “So to reach her,
you would have to access the Templars’ private realm.”
“The Templars don’t have a private realm,” Jazai replied and surprised
him. “Didn’t you know the Order Hall is located atop an actual mountain
range?”
The swordsman shook his head. “I did not and never considered that as a
possibility. There doesn’t seem a way down from where we are located, at
least not traditionally.”
His friend shrugged. “That’s fair. It’s built like that. The Order Hall was
made well before creating private realms was possible or even hypothesized.
The castle was built way up on the mountain and they morphed the area
around it to seal it further while they worked. Once they set the portal system
up…well, it seemed pointless to have a road leading to it, and it was probably
safer that way.”
“So where is it then?” Devol asked. “I don’t recognize any of the
surroundings.”
“I don’t know,” Jazai admitted and looked at Asla, who shook her head.
“My father has never mentioned it and Zier certainly hasn’t either.”
“I suppose I’ve never thought about it because it’s not necessary to do
so,” the wildkin admitted. “We use the portals to get there so there is no
benefit in knowing the actual location. It could potentially bring harm to the
Order if someone was able to get that information.”
The swordsman scratched his head. “So no one knows? That seems
unlikely.”
“I’m sure the higher-ups know and probably some of the long-lived ones
as well like Vaust,” his friend reasoned. “I see why you thought it might be a
private realm, though, given the way they designed it. And after so much
time has passed, almost anyone who did know where it was built would be
long gone by now—or at least anyone who doesn’t live for a millennium.”
“Well, it was because of Vaust that I thought it was,” Devol responded
and leaned back against a pillar. “When he was teaching me how to access
the portal he said that… Well, I might have misunderstood him.”
Jazai chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, he can be like that. I remember that he
made you think opening the portal was part of the initiation test.” He laughed
again. “I guess it was a kind of test but more for his benefit than the Order’s
or yours.”
A loud bang from the front of the building shattered the quiet around
them. Devol straightened and prepared to draw Achroma. “Someone is here.”
“Finally.” The diviner sighed. “It looks like your mentor took his sweet
time.”
“Wulfsun?” the swordsman asked and received an answer in the form of a
boisterous shout from the hallway. “Are you three still kicking? Or do I feel
the last remnants of your mana?”
“We’re here, Wulfsun!” Jazai shouted. “Get in here already.”
The doors were shoved open and the Templar captain strolled in fully
armored. “Well now. It looks like you’ve already had some action and you’ve
only been gone a few hours too.”
“Yeah, lucky us,” the diviner muttered as he walked to the censer and
picked it up. “Here, take it.” He tossed it to the newcomer, who caught it in
one hand and studied it with a frown.
“What the hells does this do?” he questioned, spun it, and noticed the
small traces of smoke that issued from under the bandages.
“It created a poisonous smoke that decayed flesh and restricted mana,”
Asla answered and stood for the first time since Devol had arrived. “It also
allowed the user to manipulate it in some fashion, I believe, that may have
been one of his abilities.”
“I see.” Wulfsun placed the malefic on the floor, removed his pack, and
took a large black box out. “Can you tell me anything else?”
Asla nodded. “The user—he called himself Hem—said he discovered it at
a dig site in Osira. He called it Chantarelle and said it gave him a vision of an
ancient ruler who used it to strike fear into the citizens of his kingdom until
he was finally assassinated.”
 The large Templar nodded and popped the locks on the box. “That was
probably a lie,” he said as he opened the top. “He probably believed it,
though. Malefics can do many things to try to convince a user to bind with it.
He couldn’t have been aware of the history of the damned things. Otherwise,
he would know that no ‘ancient’ ruler could have used them since they are
only a few hundred years old. I wonder what he had to give up to use it.”
“His body is over there.” Jazai gestured behind him with his thumb. “If
you want to take a look, I would recommend holding your nose.”
Wulfsun placed the malefic gingerly into the box, sealed it quickly, and
locked the container. Wards immediately activated on all the panels. “And
what about those poor fools over there?” he asked and indicated the two
bodies. “Are they victims?”
“It seems so,” the diviner said quietly. “I think they were probably
participants in the trials.”
“He mentioned Merri,” Asla recalled, “and said they were partners.”
“They were,” Devol confirmed. “He said that he had a partner with a
malefic and that it came at the cost of something happening to him—that he
had to give something up.”
“That is always the case.” The Templar placed the box into his pack and
stood. He walked to the body of the user and frowned as he stooped to pull
away some of the bandages on the headless corpse. A moment later, he
retched in disgust. “By the Astrals, that is unpleasant.”
“Do you need to take that back with you too?” the swordsman asked and
Wulfsun shook his head.
“Luckily, no. I don’t see anything that would make me think this is
someone with a deep connection to his toy. Let him rot.” The man dusted his
gauntlets off and joined the three friends. “Well, that’s it then. I need to get
back and you three need to get go—”
“Before you do,” a deep, growling voice interjected, “we have some
questions for you, Templar.”
The three young trainees all spun toward the sound and Devol drew his
blade. Three figures in dark cloaks stood in the door to the hallway. One was
only a little taller than the boys and one was about Asla’s height, but the third
—presumably the one who spoke—was as tall or possibly taller than even
Wulfsun.
“And you can begin,” the figure continued in a rough tone, “by telling us
why you have broken the agreement between your Order and our Council.”
 Devol stepped forward as Asla unsheathed her claws both were held back
by Wulfsun’s large hands. “Calm yourself, you two,” he instructed, removed
his hands from their shoulders, and rested them on his hips. “This is merely a
misunderstanding.”
“Who are they, Wulfsun?” the swordsman demanded, his blade still at the
ready as the three figures stood unmoving.
“Well, from what they said and the dark garb they are wearing…” The
Templar captain grinned a challenge at the three strangers. “It seems you
have an early look at some of the Oblivion Council.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-T WO

“The Oblivion Council?” Jazai repeated and scowled at the dark-hooded

strangers. “So they run this whole trial?”
“Three of them, at least.” Wulfsun removed his pack and stepped in front
of the new arrivals. “There were more than three when I took my trials, and I
know there are at least five of ye from the last time we talked.”
“Ah, good. You do remember.” The largest of the three pulled his hood
down to reveal a male daemoni with horns that curved behind his head, blue
skin, and yellow eyes. “Given the circumstances, I was worried that you had
some bout of memory loss and this would be a longer process.”
“Why are you in such a huff?” the Templar chided. “I haven’t done
anything against our agreement. Hells, I’ve only been here for a few
minutes!”
“Those are your trainees, are they not?” the daemoni asked and glanced at
Devol, Jazai, and Asla. His gaze flicked briefly to rest on each one for only a
moment before he returned his focus to Wulfsun. “You know that once
they’ve entered the grounds, they can have no outside assistance. That is one
of the rules when a guild, company, or order such as yours nominates them
for the trials.”
“Yeah, and?” the large man retorted and folded his massive arms. “I’m
not here to aid them. This is Templar business and if yer gonna spout rules
and regulations at me, I’m gonna do the same. If a malefic is found by a
Templar or an associate and the Order is notified, we are allowed to come
and collect them should the user be deceased during the trials.”
“Technically, the trials haven’t even begun yet,” Jazai interjected as he
stared at the other two council members who hadn’t revealed themselves.
 Devol, his blade still at the ready, inched closer to his mentor. “The Order
has some kind of agreement with these guys?”
Wulfsun nodded. “Like Mephis mentioned, there’s a pact between any
organization that nominates their members to take part in the trials. The
Templar Order’s pact is a little more extensive than most. A few decades
back, we made an agreement to collect malefics from any of those who died
during the trials for safekeeping.” He bared his teeth in what might have
passed as an attempt to smile. “But only if one of ours or an ally told us about
them after the trials. They don’t tell us a damned thing, otherwise.”
“That would be the whole point of the trials,” Mephis replied. The
sternness in his voice had faded and been replaced by a monotone,
informative manner of speech. “To win by any means necessary. If we had
you come and collect a participant’s item before or during the trials, they
would have an unfair handicap, and if we told you in the aftermath, that
would limit the pool.”
“Their ‘item?’” Wulfsun scoffed and waved his hand in a derisive
gesture. “You act like we’re coming to bully them and take their favorite
necktie. Malefics are banned in every kingdom and it’s our duty to deal with
them. It’s one of the few damned things most kingdoms still recognize as our
duty.”
The smallest of the three figures stepped forward and her hood fell back
to reveal a female mori with long silver hair and pure black eyes. “Exceptions
have been made before.”
“By kingdoms, not us,” the Templar countered. “I know all of you are
fine with maniacs traipsin’ around with cursed artifacts if it gets the job done,
but most like sleeping at night.”
“And majestics and exotics have never been used in illegal activities?”
she responded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “By the Astrals, Karrie.
The gray area of the Oblivion markers means that any number of illicit
people come for them every year. But you aren’t the ones they call when a
malefic-user gets a marker and goes on a tour of the realms for slaughter.”
“You would be mistaken on that,” the third figure muttered and removed
his hood to reveal a human male with pale skin, deep-set eyes, and combed-
back black hair.
“Willard. Did they finally make you a council member?” Wulfsun asked
and studied the man cautiously. “I assumed you would prefer your old post.”
 “The councilman who had this position before me was negligent in the
very matter you speak of,” Willard stated, his voice quiet and direct. “I and
the rest of the Council decided that my talents would be better used
instructing the others to deal with any who abused the privileges of their
marks, especially if they do not contribute as is expected.”
“His name is Willard? It’s rather boring compared to the daemoni and the
mori,” Jazai whispered to Devol but was overheard by Wulfsun.
“I wouldn’t poke fun,” the Templar captain told them sharply. “Willard
was the top assassin in the Order. They may not do as much as I would like
them to, but they do police mark-bearers. When a kingdom in any realm
notifies them of a problem and the Council decides the bearer has
overstepped their privileges, they send their personal assassins to deal with
them.”
“And they are better than any normal assassin?” the diviner asked.
The large man stared at Willard for a moment and his eyes darkened as he
simply replied, “Yes, they have to be.” The was enough for the boy to look at
the human council member and step back.
Mephis held a hand up and gestured for his colleagues to move closer.
They huddled together and talked for a moment before they turned to the
others. “You three—the young ones.”
Devol and his comrades looked at Wulfsun to see his reaction but he
simply remained still except for a brief nod. The swordsman walked forward
and he and his friends gave the council members their full attention. “Yes?”
“Did you three kill that man?” the daemoni asked and pointed at Hem’s
body.
“Yes, but we were attacked by him first,” Asla stated, her hands at her
side but her claws still out.
“Hells, he filled this entire town with a toxic gas,” Jazai pointed out.
“And killed those two poor bastards over there and probably many more.”
“I know Merri killed at least a handful,” Devol stated and surprised his
friends. “He had a small bag full of signets.”
“There was another?” Karrie asked. She pointed behind her and to the
southwest. “Down that way, correct?”
The swordsman nodded. “Yes, how did you know?”
“Have you been watching us?” Asla asked, the question almost an
accusation.
They received no answer. Instead, Karrie and Mephis looked at Willard,
who shrugged. “They are worth keeping. I’ll take care of the bodies.” With
that, he disappeared from view but not by teleportation or blinking. He
merely turned, took a step, and vanished. Devol was stunned for a moment as
he had never seen someone move that fast.
“You may stay,” Mephis announced and snapped the swordsman back
into the moment. “Get to the trials,” He looked at Wulfsun “And you,
Templar, need to depart. If you remain, this will be a violation of the rules of
the Oblivion Trials, your trainees will be disqualified, and your Order will no
longer have a pact with the Council.”
“Fine, although I would probably have been gone already, you know.”
The large man sighed, turned to pick his pack up, and slid it onto one
shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, you three, but good job so far.” He placed
two fingers against his forehead and saluted them quickly. “I look forward to
seeing you return. The best of luck to ye.” Before they could reply, he
stepped forward and walked past the council members, who didn’t even
watch him go. Instead, they stared at the three friends for a few moments
before they turned to depart as well.
“You know, we could follow them,” Asla said hastily. “They are
probably heading to the starting area and this could be an easy way to get
there if they know some secret paths.”
“You are welcome to accompany us,” Karrie announced as they
continued to walk away. Her words startled the trio. “If you are able to keep
up.”
The wildkin looked at the other two. Jazai shrugged and Devol sheathed
Achroma before they hurried forward to catch up to the council members. By
the time they reached the main lobby, however, the two had exited the
building and a moment later, disappeared in a flash of mana, one blue and the
other red.
“Ah, we should have known.” Jazai scowled as the three left the building.
“Oh, well. We need to go get our packs anyway.”
“Oh right, my pack,” the swordsman remembered and glanced at the
factory. “I need to get it and the medicine bag. I’ll be right back.”
“We’ll go and get ours from the camp,” the other boy informed him.
“We’ll meet you there.”
He waved to them as he dashed into the building. The diviner offered a
hand to Asla to port them to the camp but noticed that she was looking into
the sky. “Did something catch your eye?”
 “Not particularly,” she responded, drew a deep breath, and exhaled
slowly. “We head into the caves next, correct?”
“Well, that’s where the trials are being held so that would still be the
plan,” Jazai replied sarcastically.
She nodded. “I only wanted to take a moment to enjoy the air and wind
and see the sky.” With a small sigh, she took his hand. “It could be the last
time we do.”
He closed his hand as he envisioned Merri’s campsite. “True, but look at
it like this…” The two disappeared in a flash of blue mana and reappeared at
the camp. The boy looked at Merri’s body. Asla saw it a second later and
stepped back in shock. “There are two less competitors to deal with now.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-T H R E E

Jazai knelt to examine Merri’s remains as Asla collected their packs. “Man,
look at all these scars on his body and the wound on his throat. Devol
seriously did a thorough job,” the apprentice whispered as he noted the
puddle of blood and his gaze traced the deep gash in the shadow-user’s neck.
He noticed the spilled contents of the man’s pack and the handful of signets
that littered the ground. “What was even their aim?”
“What do you mean?” the wildkin asked as she approached him and
handed him his pack. “They were thinning the competition out. You said so
yourself.”
“Right, and I still think that was a part of it,” he agreed as he slipped his
pack on. “But when you think about it, the poisoner’s trick only worked
because of how he was positioned so he could hide in that building. He could
make a thick fog but you had to be relatively close for the poison to take
effect quickly. We walked around in that fog for a while and it didn’t
noticeably affect us.”
“That may have been deliberate,” Asla responded and looked at where the
spots had manifested on her arm. “If we had seen them sooner, we would
have immediately started to look for him. I’m sure that the closer you were,
the more you were doused and the faster the poison worked. But since we
were so far, maybe he tempered it even more so as to not arouse suspicion.”
“Agreed, and this bastard…” Jazai sneered at the body beside him. “He
could control a person by drinking their blood. It’s frightening in a one-on-
one fight, but if there is some kind of battle component to the trials—like a
mass battle—his ability wouldn’t be particularly effective in that situation.”
“I do not think either of them was exactly of sound mind,” the wildkin
responded and folded her arms. “I agree that given those weaknesses, they
might not have progressed far depending on what the trial has in store, but
that’s the point, isn’t it? Weeding out magi and other adventurers as much as
finding more members for the marks?”
“Surely it doesn’t take this long to get your belongings?” The two friends
looked up at where Devol perched atop the building behind them. He jumped
down and handed Asla her medicine bag. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah. We’re merely making small talk,” Jazai responded and looked at
Merri again. “Was he even a healer?”
The swordsman frowned at the body and shrugged as he walked past it
and into the alley. “Of a sort, I suppose. It doesn’t matter now.” His two
friends shared a look before they followed him. When they exited, they all
studied the map to confirm the best route to reach their next destination.
It took very little time to reach the entrance of the caves. Devol removed
his pack and dug inside to retrieve a small lantern. He lit it with a tiny spark
of mana and attached it to the pack before he shrugged into it again. “Well,
this is it. We should keep together from now on.”
“No kidding.” The other boy held his palm up. “Illumination.” A small
orb of light appeared in his hand. They both looked at Asla, who simply
pointed to her cat eyes to remind them that she’d be fine in the darkness of
the caves.
“Do either of you need to rest before we go on?” the swordsman asked.
His two friends shook their heads firmly. “I brought a mana potion from
Zier’s office,” the diviner told him. “Unfortunately, he only had the one, but
we’re replenished enough between that and the rejuvenation potion from
earlier. What about you?”
“I’m fine,” he assured them and drew a deep breath. “Very well, then.
Into the depths we go.” With one final look at their surroundings, they
walked the remaining short distance down the street toward the caves and the
darkness that awaited them.

Their first hour of exploration was rather uneventful but they all gained a
better understanding of the scope of the mining operation that had taken place
in the caves in the years when it had been active. The caverns were massive
with smooth walls. The beams and pillars that held up certain sections were
made of metal, and they found the remains of cart tracks and custom-built
stairways hewed into the rock.
Thus far, they had yet to encounter another person and the few creatures
and critters they did come across seemed more bewildered at their presence
than hostile and scurried away when they walked past or shined a light on
them. Though they ran quickly through caves for the first fifty minutes or so,
they had begun to slow and maneuver carefully through the passages now
that they were deeper in and the areas grew a little rougher.
Jazai studied the map, then looked around and tried to compare the
demarcated area with what he physically saw. “It looks roughly similar,” he
confirmed and rolled it again. “I should probably have realized that the map
would be older. There wouldn’t be too many reasons to update it since no one
but bandits and tomb raiders bother to go through here nowadays.”
“Maybe we could simply port around?” Devol suggested. “Those council
members were able to teleport back to…wherever. I assume the nocaloc
cavern.”
The diviner shook his head. “You can teleport without knowing the
specifics of your destination, but that’s not a good choice, especially in a
confined area like this. If I decided to teleport two hundred yards left and one
hundred feet down, I might end up in another passage but could also be stuck
in a wall.”
“Couldn’t you simply teleport yourself out if that happened?” he asked
and earned a somewhat frustrated look from his friend.
“The thing about flesh is that it doesn’t like to be squished.” He sighed
and replace the map in his pack. “If you teleport into a wall or deep into the
earth, your body and the earth kind of mash together and turn you into a splat.
I’ve heard some evocation specialists are able to phase their body in some
fashion to counter this but I haven’t learned how to do that for myself, much
less on others.”
Devol scratched his head. “That’s a fair point.” He rolled his shoulders
and jumped up and down for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to push through
again until we—”
“Do either of you hear that?” Asla asked and her ears stood straight up.
The two boys stood motionless and listened intently but they heard
nothing. A moment later, however, the swordsman felt a small rumble
beneath his feet. “It sounds like something is pounding the ground.”
 “It could be a burrowing creature,” Jazai suggested and crouched to press
a hand on the ground. “There are cavern wurms in this system with an
average length of twelve to twenty feet and four or five feet in height—nasty
little buggers.”
“I hear something moving.” The wildkin walked forward a few feet. “And
cracking as well like rocks being hammered together.”
“A cave-in?” Devol frowned at the thought.
“I hope not.” Jazai moved beside her. “Which way?” She pointed down
the passage and he bit his lip. “Damn it. We have to go that way. I don’t think
there’s an alternative route unless we retrace our steps and go all the way
around to the other entrance.”
“We should at least take a look,” the swordsman stated and pressed on.
“It could simply be the rocks settling or something.”
The other boy sighed and threw his hands up. “I’m very sure that’s not
how rocks work but all right. Keep us informed of anything you pick up,
Asla.”
The three continued down the passage to where a wide opening led into a
massive domed cavern with three other large passages on the other side.
Devol walked in a little farther and skirted a group of stalagmites before he
tripped and almost fell into a massive crater. When he regained his footing,
he looked inside, gasped, and backed away.
“What’s wrong?” Asla asked and ran closer. She echoed his gasp when
she realized that the battered remains of a person sprawled inside the crater.
When Jazai saw it, he turned away hastily. “That’s unsettling—and no
wurm did that. They devour their prey.”
“He was flattened.” Devol groaned and his gaze settled on cracks around
the crater and in the ground. “And something made that crater recently.”
“Probably while pummeling that sorry fool.” The diviner extended his
hand to Asla. “Is this where you heard the noise?”
She nodded, grasped his hand, and hurried away from the crater. “Yes,
but with how big this chamber is and the caves as a whole, it could simply
have been echoes from—” She was interrupted by an inhuman wail like the
sound of something awakening after a long slumber. “What was that?”
Devol drew Achroma and slid his pack off as Jazai held his hands up and
Asla brought her claws out. Their animas flared as one. The noise continued
and reverberated around the cavern. The apprentice looked at one of the
ridges and pointed. “There! A stone golem.”
 His teammates focused on a large figure now visible there. The being was
made of stone and carved in intricate patterns. It stared at them—or at least
its head faced in their direction as it had no eyes to speak of, merely a large
orb in the center of what would be its face. The ground shuddered and drew
his attention to the passage in from of him, where two other stone giants
shambled toward them. “We have two more this side.”
The diviner nodded. “They must be security left from the mining
operation. Someone probably either activated them deliberately on their way
through to slow others or did so accidentally and they’ve wandered around
ever since.” He looked at the crater. “Well, we know what happened to him.”
“Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen to us,” Asla stated firmly as her eyes
darted repeatedly to each of the three golems.
“We should be all right. They are strong and tough but slow and one of
the most basic golems. It’s not like they can get the drop on—” The being on
the ridge broke a large stalagmite off, aimed it at the three, and prepared to
launch it. “Well, shit.”
“Scatter!” Devol ordered and they darted, ported, and leapt away as the
golem hurled its makeshift spear and it smashed into the cavern floor. The
swordsman stopped abruptly when he realized he stood in front of the two
rock golems that emerged from the passage. Both swung their stone fists back
and stepped forward to crush him.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-F O U R

Devol drew his blink dagger hastily, tossed it behind the two golems, and
teleported to it seconds before their attacks transformed him into the same
mush as the magi they had found moments before. They attempted to turn
toward him but Asla and Jazai had joined the fight. The wildkin vaulted up
and planted her feet on the chest of one to drive it back with a forceful kick, if
only a few steps.
“I don’t think brute force is the way to go here,” the diviner quipped and
held his ringed fingers up. “Let’s see how they like a dozen missiles all aimed
at them.” The rings shimmered for a moment before a load of mana missiles
launched from his hand. They all homed in on one of the beings and drove
into their target in rapid succession. Unfortunately, they bounced off
immediately and showered the young swordsman.
“Jazai, what the hells?” he shouted and deflected one of the missiles with
the side of Achroma’s blade before he blinked away again with his dagger.
“I did not consider that there might be magic resistance!” the apprentice
shouted and blinked to Asla, who attempted to dodge his redirected attack.
He held a hand out. “Shield.” A barrier formed quickly and the final two
missiles thunked into it.
Devol held his blade up and prepared to engage the two golems again
when he noticed a shadow growing around him. Realization dawned
immediately and he lunged forward and rolled as the third being landed,
having fallen or leapt off the ledge.
The wildkin bounded forward and her mana glowed brightly around her
claws and she slashed the legs of one of the golems as she raced past it. She
hissed in sudden pain and looked down. Blood coated her fingers and a
glance at her adversary confirmed only small gouges in the side of its leg.
It turned to strike and pounded its leg down but she hopped out of the
way, vaulted on top of it, and kicking off against its head to land near Jazai.
“My mana is still recovering.” She sighed and shook her hands. “I can’t
deliver enough damage to do anything against these creatures.”
“Well, they are made of stone,” he responded sarcastically and earned an
annoyed glare from her. He raised his hands and enveloped them in mana.
“Missiles don’t work so I guess I’ll simply have to keep firing on the damn
things to see what gets through.”
“Wait,” she ordered, looked at his hands, and focused on the golems
again. “Do you think you can use that transmutation spell from the training?”
“Which one?” he asked before a quick look at the approaching rock men
made him smile. “It’s worth a try, certainly.”
Devol had made some progress and inflicted large gouges in the golem he
faced. It continued to kick and throw large rocks at him that it would simply
take from the dirt below it as it waddled toward him. He began to realize,
however, that he was doing little more than painting it. The being didn’t
appear to feel pain so his small wounds didn’t slow or weaken it. He would
have to either crush it or shatter it if he wanted the victory.
Before he could begin to consider how he might accomplish this, it
distracted him completely when it planted its hands on the ground and yellow
mana coursed around its palms. Earthen spikes protruded suddenly from the
surface in a trail toward him and forced him to leap over them and catch hold
of a stalactite above.
It broke one of the spikes off and raised its arm to throw it at him. He
pulled himself up slightly to plant his feet on his somewhat precarious perch
and prepared to jump off as Achroma began to glow and the blade widened.
It threw the rocky spear at him and he leapt off moments before the projectile
struck.
His jump had taken him closer to the ceiling and he spun and pushed off
it to launch himself at the golem. He grasped his sword tightly as he drove
the blade into it and the magic rippled out and forced it to the ground when
the mana released in an explosive burst. The blast shredded whatever magical
armor it had and ripped it apart.
Unfortunately for him, it also seemed to tear the ground itself apart, and
he went from a pure white light into a deep, dark abyss.
Devol yanked Achroma out of the chunk of rock from the golem’s chest
and quickly pointed it forward and extended the blade through the new space
until it pierced a wall and allowed him to slow his descent as the rocks
crashed into a watery ravine below. He retracted the blade so he was close to
the wall, which he used to slide to the floor of this new expanse.
“Devol, are you all right!?” the wildkin’s concerned voice asked in his
mind. “What happened?”
He retrieved his a-stone and grimaced at the dust around him. “I fell in a
hole.”
“I think we realized that,” Jazai retorted. “She meant what happened with
the golem. There was a bright flash behind us and we heard something crack,
and you and it were gone and replaced by a big hole.”
The swordsman pulled Achroma out of the wall. “I tried to flood it with
my mana to see what kind of reaction I would get or if I could overpower the
magical armor. I ended up blowing it up.”
“Not a bad outcome,” the other boy complimented.
“Do you need assistance?” Asla asked.
“I should ask you guys that,” he replied as he looked at the pile of rocks
that was once the golem. “My opponent seems to be taken care of but you
guys are still dealing with yours, right?”
“If it was a problem, we would be too busy to talk at the moment, no
offence to you,” Jazai said cheerfully. “Asla had a smart idea. I liquified the
golems with a cantrip. It slows them so Asla can inflict some real damage.
Their resistance to magic does slow the process, but they can’t stop it
outright. They are tenacious bastards, I’ll give them that.”
“Nice work.” Devol sheathed Achroma and looked at the hole above him.
“I think I can make it up but it would be nice to have a higher launch point.”
“If worse comes to worst, I can blink you up,” the other boy reminded
him. “Why not use your dagger?”
He almost smacked his forehead in irritation. “Oh, yeah. That’s a good
idea. I’ll be up in a moment.” He put the a-stone away and reached for his
dagger but it was missing. His first thought was that it had been knocked out
during the fall. It wasn’t a problem, necessarily. Even if he didn’t know
where it was, it should still be close enough for him to port to it. He extended
a hand and closed his eyes while he felt for its magic. Once he connected, he
was pulled to it instantly and he opened his eyes and realized to his surprise
that he was deeper in the cavern where the water was knee-high. He frowned
as he tried to think of an explanation for how had it fallen that far from where
he had been.
As he reached into the muck to retrieve his dagger, he heard loud,
slumbering breathing and froze. Something was down there.
Devol snatched his dagger and moved to the cave wall. He pressed
against it and slid closer to the hole in the wall. When he leaned into the
cavern, he could make out a large shape that rested atop a pile of some kind
at the far end. With slow caution, he inched closer to the beast, alert for any
others around, but it seemed this one liked its solitude.
He now stood only about ten yards away. It was massive and even in its
curled, sleeping state, it seemed bigger than he was. His scrutiny revealed
gray fur with black and white patches, and when he took a few more steps
forward, he noticed deep claw marks around its face, snout, and on the front
legs. It had certainly seen some fierce fights.
This was a likan and one of the biggest he had ever seen. What separated
them from dire wolves was their ability to walk on their hind legs as well as
all fours, and they could be both feral and eerily intelligent depending on the
breed. This one here baffled the young magi, however. They were known to
inhabit woodlands and swamps, and while some had been reported in caves,
they wouldn’t usually make them their domain.
Devol considered what he should do. It had not awakened so he could
probably simply sneak out without disturbing it. If all the ruckus above had
not woken it, his small steps wouldn’t bother it at all. He’d all but decided to
do this when he caught sight of the pile of corpses beneath it. Some were
different animals and smaller likan, most likely previous challengers for its
territory, but human body parts were strewn among them as well.
The sight caused a ball of ice to form in his stomach, one that was
immediately replaced by a blaze of anger as he unsheathed Achroma, charged
it with mana, and sent out a magical slice at the beast. The likan’s eyes
snapped open and it snatched a few body parts from its pile and tossed them
into the path of the magical projectile. These were shredded and the attack
dissipated and he realized it was both smart and incredibly fast.
The swordsman cursed, jumped back, and prepared for an attack. The
likan crawled off its bed and stared at him with red eyes as if it studied him
and tried to determine if he was worth its time. He sensed something familiar
about that look—like it was tossing a coin to decide whether he was a threat
or a plaything.
This time, he growled and launched two more slashes at the beast but it
maneuvered around them easily and lunged toward him with bloodstained
fangs. It pushed onto its hind legs and as it held its dark claws out, ready to
snatch its next victim, he readied himself to fire another attack.
The wolf closed the distance between them faster than he had thought
possible. It swiped at him and forced him to move out of the way. He noticed
an odd, dark-blue shimmer that emanated from the likan’s coat and realized
that it was enchanted. Thinking fast, he raised his sword so it pointed to the
ceiling and released a blast of mana from the tip that exploded above them.
The roof of the cavern erupted and rocks and stalactites fell from above.
Both he and the wolf jumped back to avoid being crushed. Devol recovered
quickly and looked around the cavern for the beast. It was hard to see in the
low light and dust, even with Achroma’s light, but the shattering of a rock to
his left alerted him to its location. He turned to where it stood on top of the
debris and stared at him again. It was no longer curious, however. The beast
was furious. It crouched slightly and snarled as it prepared to leap.
The swordsman straightened and tightened his grasp on Achroma as he
held it out in front of him. The lights within the blade began to change and
assumed a form more akin to fire than the twinkling lights it normally held.
The beast charged into the blade without the worry of reprisal. His feet slid
back while the likan’s claws and teeth scratched viciously against his
majestic. For one startled moment, he couldn’t help wondering what it was
made of.
Devol eventually pulled back and leapt away to avoid a swipe from the
beast. He landed and slid back and his adversary bucked in the air as it turned
and landed. Something warm bloomed on his shoulder and at first, he thought
it was the flames from his majestic until it began to trickle down his chest and
stomach. He slid a hand under his jacket and shirt and felt the dampness of
blood. It had struck him but he was confused about how or when.
He felt no pain, but maybe that was his Vis protecting him. The shimmer
around the likan’s coat reminded him that it had magical properties, which
explained how it could stand against Achroma. Unfortunately, it must also be
able to use them somehow and that created a terrifying predicament for him.
It uttered a deafening howl before it leaned forward to attack. He swung
his sword to his side and let the flames build into a blaze around him as it
prepared to make the final strike. He watched to see if it would use its magics
again and noted how close that attack was to his heart.
The beast leapt and mana coated its claws. He readied himself to strike as
the white flames burned around him, but the beast did not land. Instead, it
hung as if suspended, and he studied it suspiciously, sure that this was
another of its tricks. That didn’t seem to be the case, however, as it struggled
and the air around it twisted and contorted. The likan’s body began to follow
the odd gyrations as it uttered angry, panicked yelps.
“You should learn to hold back, young magi.” Devol looked at a tall, lithe
figure in a hood and cloak who focused on the likan. “Wasting so much mana
is bad form, and such a bright light could lure even the most slightly curious
of predators.”
The voice was familiar and he looked at the stranger and noticed a glow
emanating from under the hood. Oddly, the color changed every few seconds
and when it all clicked into place in his mind, a fearful frost chilled his body
again and the flames around his blade grew wilder.
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-F I V E

“Asla…hey, Asla,” Jazai muttered as the wildkin continued to slash at the

puddled remains of the golems. “They are only mush now, Asla. You broke
through their magic armor and they aren’t coming back…hopefully.”
With a weary sigh, she sank her hands into the mud. “Do you think there
are more of them in these caves?”
The diviner shrugged. “I didn’t come in here thinking there would be any
and look how that turned out.”
She shook her head, pulled her claws out of the muck, and pushed to her
feet. “Very well. We’ll be on our guard.” She took a moment to look around
the cave. “Devol has not returned?”
Her teammate frowned and shook his head. “No. It’s weird. I picked up a
flare of mana while we were finishing those creatures off but I merely
thought it was him trying to get up.”
Asla approached the large hole their friend had made and peered into the
darkness. “We should find him.”
Jazai nodded in agreement. “For sure. How about we—” Before he could
finish, she jumped through the aperture. “I could have simply teleported us.”
He sighed, snapped his fingers, and did exactly that to appear in the water
below moments before she landed. She splashed some of the liquid onto him,
which he tried hastily to wipe off. “Thanks.”
“What is that?” she asked and ignored him as she pointed at a bright light
emanating from a cave farther down the ravine.
“It looks like Devol’s light,” he replied and took a few steps forward. “I
wonder why it’s so bright.”
“He could be fighting something,” she suggested as a pained howl echoed
through the entire cavern. “By the Astrals, what was—”
The diviner didn’t wait to offer and simply caught her arm and ported the
two to the opening of what seemed to be a den. They had appeared directly
behind a stranger in a cloak and cowl and Devol stood several yards away,
holding Achroma as a bright white flame enveloped it. Jazai noticed the
crumbled remains of a beast off to the side—a likan by the looks of it and an
enchanted one at that, although he could see the mana dissipating from the
lifeless body.
“Devol!” Asla shouted and printed to the swordsman’s side. “What
happened? Who is this?”
He did not respond and simply stared at the man with determined anger in
his eyes. The diviner focused coolly on the stranger’s back and held out a
hand to prepare a spell. While he couldn’t see who it was, his teammate
seemed quite hostile toward him—although given the events of the day, that
was understandable.
“Well now, it looks like the entire trio is here,” the man said teasingly and
glanced over his shoulder at Jazai, who saw an eye with a light flickering
within. The boy’s eyes widened immediately in shock.
The magi lowered his hood to reveal violet hair, whose shape changed
depending upon who viewed it. In Devol’s eyes, it was long and spiked and
curled around the neck. His left eye was violet as well but in place of the
right one was an orb with a swirling pupil, the color of which would fade
from sky-blue, to royal-purple, to blank white, and back again.
“Koli,” the swordsman growled and swung his blade around.
The trickster raised a hand with an easy smile and waved to them. “Hello
again.”
Asla was the first to act and she uttered a feral cry as her anima flared
instantly and she swiped at him. He dodged it easily and stepped around her,
which prevented Jazai from attacking for fear of injuring his teammate.
Devol readied himself to attack and took a step forward, but Koli
vanished from sight. He looked back to where the assassin now stood behind
him with his arms folded and his smile ever-present. “That was an
enthusiastic greeting from the kitten but you seem so cold by comparison,
little Devol.” He glanced at the flaming blade. “In a manner of speaking,
anyway.”
The swordsman turned to cut through him but found his body suddenly
fought against him. As it had with the likan, the air distorted around him and
his limbs twitched as if they wanted to turn on themselves. He struggled
against it with the same feeling of dread he had experienced when he’d been
ensnared by Merri only a couple of hours earlier.
“You must have had a rough day.” Koli chuckled and studied him
casually. “Your anima seems a little thin.”
“Get away from him!” The assassin looked up as several mana missiles
streaked toward him, along with a furious Asla. He sighed, held a hand up
almost lazily, and charged it with mana. When he released it, the missiles
were destroyed and Asla’s charge was slowed, which allowed him to duck
under the leaping wildkin with ease.
“As much fun as this little dance is,” he told them as he grasped her hair,
“I’m not here for…well, whatever you seem to believe I am here for.” He
lifted the girl and flung her toward Jazai with surprising strength. As the
diviner prepared another spell, their adversary knelt beside Devol and used
his frozen body as a shield.
“Then…why are…you here?” the swordsman demanded. Even his voice
was strained when he tried to speak.
Koli’s expression seemed both smug and full of mirth. “I told you. All
that ruckus attracted me here.” He slid his hand into his vest pocket and
withdrew a white eye patch, which he slipped over his malefic eye. Devol
spun in place when the distortion field was released and his strength returned
to him as the man stepped aside. “Or do you mean what am I doing in these
caverns rather than here specifically?”
Jazai helped Asla up and everyone kept their defenses in place as they
stared at the assassin.
“I suppose I can start there since no one will speak up.” He reached into
his left pants pocket and took a dark signet out. “Ta-da. Does this look
familiar?”
“An Oblivion signet?” Devol stated and studied him suspiciously. “Who
did you take that from?”
The assassin frowned as he put it away. “I was given it, although I am a
thief so the suspicion should not surprise me all that much.”
“You were given it?” Jazai demanded and glanced at Asla, who still
looked like she would pounce at any moment. “By who?”
“One of the committee members—or maybe one of their lackeys. I’m not
ultimately sure,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “It happened shortly before
I left the man who hired me for my last contract—you know, the one who led
us to our first little meet and greet.”
Devol’s majestic was still aflame and he held the blade up boldly. “Are
you here to avenge Salvo?”
“Avenge?” Koli tapped his chin. “Oh, right. I confess I had heard he had
gone missing. So that was you.” His smile widened. “Well now, isn’t that
something? Did you kill him by yourselves or did one of the adults pitch in?”
“We did,” Jazai answered and stepped closer to Devol and the assassin.
“Devol sent him into the abyssal realm.”
“The abyss?” The magi clicked his tongue and shook his head. “A word
of advice for when killing someone—always make sure they are dead. Some
have a nasty habit of coming back on occasion.”
“Quit it with the jokes!” the swordsman snapped. “Why are you acting
like nothing has happened between us? Are you here to try to finish the job?”
Koli frowned for a moment before he snapped his fingers. “Ah, I think I
understand the hostility now. You believe I am still under the employ of the
man who sent me after your little box all those months ago.” He waved a
hand dismissively. “No, I assure you that it is nothing like that. I haven’t been
under contract with anyone since…well, since Salvo went missing, come to
think of it.” His gaze drifted until it settled on a large rock a few feet away
and he walked to it and sat. “I’m merely here to take part in the trials. Finding
you was a happy accident. If the truth be told, I’m rather lost down here.”
“Lost?” Jazai asked skeptically. “You know the caves are where the trials
are being held but you don’t know how to get there?”
The man nodded, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on his
hands. “Indeed. I did, in fact, take that information from someone and should
have held out for more details but they didn’t seem to know the specifics.”
He sighed dramatically. “I’ve wandered around for about fourteen hours now
and found a few ladies and blokes to distract me, but that was about it.”
“So you’ve been hunting.” Asla growled and bared her fangs.
“I’ve been distracting myself,” he corrected. “I did not look for them so
you can hardly call it ‘hunting.’”
Devol, despite his apprehension, could tell that the assassin did not seem
to have any interest in attacking them. He could sense the ease in his anima,
something hard to fake when one consciously looked for it. Even Vaust had a
difficult time doing so.
“So what happens now?” he asked and lowered his sword as the flames
began to dim and fade into ebbing light. “You have no interest in fighting
us?”
“Not really—at least right now.” Koli took a moment to look at each of
them and his eyes lingered on Achroma for a slightly longer time. “You
aren’t…ripe yet.”
“Ripe?” Asla demanded and her brow furrowed, but the others decided to
let it go for now.
Jazai coughed and straightened. “If that’s the case, I guess we can thank
you for…uh…” He looked at the corpse of the beast behind them. “Helping
our friend. But we should probably head off now.”
“I agree.” The assassin nodded and pushed to his feet. “And I have a
thought about that.”
Devol and Asla immediately flared their animas while Jazai waited for it
to play out. The swordsman stepped forward. “And what would that be?”
Koli held a hand out and Devol flinched instinctively, but it simply
stopped a few inches in front of him. “How about I join your little party?”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- S I X

The trio had to admit that amongst all they had dealt with thus far and all the
thoughts and expectations they had envisaged for this day, this particular
offer was not one they could ever have conceived of.
Jazai was the first to speak. “Join us?” he asked, his voice shrill as if
caught between a gasp and a laugh. “You do remember that you tried to kill
us only six months ago?”
Koli glanced at him, his arm still extended to Devol. “I do, but what does
that matter?” He seemed genuinely confused. “That was months ago and
besides, I’m no longer under contract and wasn’t even contracted to kill you
specifically. I was hired to recover the box. You merely happened to be
carrying it and wouldn’t relinquish it. If anything, you’re as responsible for
me attacking you as I am.”
“Wait, what? How do you come to that conclusion?” The diviner’s hands
rested on his temples as if he tried to nurse a growing headache.
“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” Asla demanded, her anima still up
and ready.
The assassin frowned. “I assume you think I still intend to attack you at
some point?” None of them responded but that was a good as a yes to him.
“Believe what you will but if it gives you any solace, if that was indeed my
plan, you would already be very dead.”
Jazai narrowed his eyes at him. “I guess that’s true, but if you want to get
on our good side, you could have phrased that better.”
“I certainly could have,” Koli agreed with the return of his smile. He
looked at the swordsman and waved his hand slightly at him. “Come on now,
little Devol. You’ve gone rather quiet. Do you have nothing to say?”
 Devol looked at the man’s hand, turned his sword swiftly, and slid it into
the scabbard on his back. “What do you get out of this?”
“Company,” the magi admitted. “That and a guide. I assume you have a
better plan than I do.”
“What makes you think that?” Asla asked. “We could be as lost as you
are.”
Koli finally lowered his hand. “True but doubtful. I can’t believe those
fretful Templars of yours would have let you set foot in this area without
some kind of plan. Besides, you questioned me about the fact that I didn’t
know the final destination, which gives me a glimmer of a thought that you
do.”
“Fair enough,” the swordsman replied and folded his arms. “What do we
get out of this partnership?”
Jazai grasped the other boy’s shoulder. “Hey, friend, can we talk to you a
second?” It came out more like a demand than a question and he pulled his
teammate closer to Asla. The three huddled together. He’d first thought of
using the a-stones but was reluctant to reveal their existence to their erstwhile
enemy. “Are you seriously thinking about letting him follow us?”
“I do not trust him,” the wildkin grumbled. “Even knowing he is walking
around puts me on edge.”
“So you’d rather have him walking around the caves alone where we’ll
have no idea where he is? If he comes with us, at least we know to keep an
eye on him,” Devol responded and snuck a peek over his shoulder at Koli,
who now checked his nails and seemed annoyed by the dirt he found under
them.
The swordsman’s response surprised his friends, who hadn’t thought of
that. They shared a long look and seemed to sift mentally through the options
before Jazai sighed in defeat. “I don’t know what is more troubling—the fact
that it makes so much sense or the fact that he was the first to consider it.”
“Are we sure he means no ill?” Asla demanded.
“I’m certain he does but to us? It doesn’t seem so,” Devol replied and
turned to address the assassin. “Koli, we know why you are here but why do
you want to participate in the trials in the first place?”
Jazai nodded and stepped to the side. “Yeah. You could probably get
decent coin simply selling the signet to the right person.”
“Certainly, but I am not after simple riches this time,” the assassin stated
and remained in his position near the rock. “In this case, does the ability to
travel amongst the realms relatively freely not sound like something a person
in my occupation would enjoy? Plus, it may help to purge part of my record. I
had thought I was almost untraceable at this point in my life, but the fact that
this Council has been keeping their eye on me means that must not be so. It
isn’t good for a thief and assassin to have recognition. Reputation certainly,
but you don’t need a face for that.”
All three frowned at him but Jazai and Asla knew their friend was right
this time. The diviner nodded to the other boy and gestured for him to move
closer. “He seems fondest of you,” he muttered.
Devol nodded and approached Koli. This time, he was the one to stretch
his hand out. “Fine. We will let you join us.”
Koli’s grin turned to a smile as he reached up to take his hand but
hesitated for a moment. “I should answer your question first—the one you
asked before your friend pulled you away.”
“About what we get out of it?” he asked and lowered his hand. “What is
it?”
The assassin placed a hand across his heart. “I promise to be a true
member of your little party for however long it lasts until we reach the trial
area. Once there, I will make sure to not target you during the competition
unless I must.”
“Unless you must?” he prompted.
“I am interested in winning and the competition can be fierce in the
trials.” The magi gazed at the three of them and shrugged. “Most years have
several winners so hopefully, I won’t need to deal with any of you during
whatever awaits us. But if there is no other choice…” He let the words linger,
his intention plain to all.
Devol nodded. “That’s fine. The same goes for us.” He proffered his hand
again. “Deal?”
Koli chuckled, took his hand, and nodded. “Wonderful. I look forward to
our little adventure. And if it is any consolation, even if I must battle you, I’ll
try to knock you unconscious. I’d hate to see such potential snuffed out
before it can truly blossom.”
“How kind of him,” Jazai muttered. “Now that’s settled, we should get
moving.” With a snap of his fingers, he departed, only to return immediately.
“Oh, you have to be kidding me.”
“What’s wrong?” the other boy asked as he approached him.
“Those damn golems are back and perfectly remade, as well.” He groaned
and shook his head. “I don’t get it. We turned them into mud and debris.”
“I told you I should have kept going.” Asla huffed and checked her claws.
“I guess we’ll have to take care of them again.”
“Mine isn’t back, is it?” Devol asked and peered into the cavern behind
them.
“I don’t see it lumbering around,” the diviner said with a shrug.
“Golems, you say?” Koli inquired and walked past the friends. “I assume
that was the ruckus I heard earlier?”
“Maybe,” Jazai responded and waved him off. “If you want to take care
of them, be my guest.”
The assassin chuckled again and stretched his arms. “I am a member of
the team now, aren’t I? I should pull my weight.” He strolled into the ravine
and stepped on top of the water using his mana to make platforms beneath
him. When he stood below the hole, he looked up and settled into a semi-
crouch. “Do you care to watch?” he asked before he leapt upward and
through the hole to land in the cavern above.
The trio looked at one another. The diviner extended his hands and when
Devol and Asla each took one, he ported them above. Koli strolled toward the
creatures with little concern, unclasped his cloak, and tossed it aside to reveal
an ornate outfit of a white silk shirt, purple vest, puffy violet pants, and black
boots. He rolled his shoulders as the stone beings advanced toward him while
both reached back, ready to pulverize the slight man who faced them alone.
In an instant, he disappeared and surprised even the unemotive golems.
Two hands punched suddenly through their heads, each holding a glowing
yellow orb. The assassin appeared between them and his arms materialized
above the hands holding the orbs as he pushed off the beings, freed himself,
and landed gracefully and juggled the odd devices.
“Golems are always controlled either by the spell of a nearby magi or
through a connection to a magical power source,” he explained and held the
two orbs up. The golems turned toward him, albeit much slower than before.
“Without them inside the constructs, they are only slightly animated and
when destroyed…” He crushed both orbs in his hands and the stone enemies
seized up before they simply fell to pieces. “They cannot hold their form.”
“Those should have liquified along with the golems earlier,” Jazai
protested and folded his arms.
“Perhaps they did, but that doesn’t mean they were destroyed,” the
assassin pointed out with a smirk as he bowed and the falling golems kicked
dust up behind him. “As I said before, always make sure they are dead.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y- S E V E N

As the three friends walked through the halls of the cave system, they
continued to be alert and ready. They had already been attacked by the
golems and they knew that more beasts and obstacles awaited them deeper
within and they had to be prepared for these. Not to mention the other magi
who also wandered the area, of whom they had seen increasing evidence with
the markings left by battles and camps, and also remains.
Koli, however, seemed to be unaffected by all this and generally hummed
quietly or chatted to the group, although he got few responses so it was
mostly to himself.
Jazai’s hand slipped into his pocket to press his a-stone. It seemed petty
to worry that their new teammate might learn of them when it was the only
possibility they had for private communication. It was, he decided, worth the
risk—and it would show them if he could discern them or not. “You know, I
didn’t think a notorious assassin would be so chatty.”
“I’m worried that he’ll attract others,” Asla replied and glanced at him.
“Also, I wish he would not be as graphic about his past kills as he is. They
are rather unnerving.”
“I think he’s not too worried about running into other magi. He has
already…uh, dealt with some so far,” Devol reasoned. “I’ll humor him and
maybe we can learn a thing or two from him while we’re walking about.”
“Give it a try. At least it’ll distract him,” the other boy agreed, slid his
hand out of his pocket, and folded his arms.
Devol slowed slightly to let his two teammates take the lead as he moved
closer to the magi. “So, Koli,” he began and cleared his throat. “You truly
have no ill feelings about Salvo?”
 The assassin looked at him with a bemused grin. “Hmm…no, I can’t say
that I do, but I am curious.”
“Curious?” he asked. “You mean, how we beat him?”
“Yes.” The magi nodded. “I saw him shortly before I finally left that
organization. He seemed rather rattled about the whole situation with you
three and wouldn’t stop muttering and growling about it ever since the day
we first encountered you. I had the feeling he had left to take care of you.”
“I wish you could have distracted him,” Jazai retorted. “It would have
made our lives easier.”
“But also much more boring, don’t you think?” the trickster countered.
“So tell me, did he use the mask?”
Devol almost stopped and one foot caught in the dirt, but he increased his
pace and looked off to the side. “You mean the demon mask.”
“Well, of course,” Koli said with an eager nod. “He wouldn’t wear some
ball mask to a fight. His flair for the dramatic came in a different form.”
“He did,” the swordsman confirmed. “And it…did something to him. The
longer we fought, the more irrational and angry he became.”
“I had a look into his thoughts,” Jazai recalled and thought back to the
pages filled with similar lines. “He became quite one-note, not to mention
disturbingly specific in what he wanted to do to us.”
The assassin tapped his chin. “It doesn’t surprise me, honestly. The
demon mask has a specific kind of appeal. All malefics have an exchange and
the demon mask may be the most basic—physical and magical power at the
cost of mental and emotional strength. Some say an actual demon is trapped
inside and eventually overtakes the user, but many magical items have that
kind of legend attached, don’t they?”
“You don’t seem to suffer much,” the diviner pointed out and looked at
the older magi’s eyepatch.
Koli ran a hand over it and smirked. “Where do you think the other eye
went?”
“That’s it?” Jazai questioned. “You merely lost an eye? Most malefics
have some long-term effect or devastating tradeoff for their use.”
Their new teammate laughed. “My apologies that losing an eye is rather
mundane by comparison, then.” He scratched above the patch and sighed.
“You should know that malefics can have a more harmonious balance with
their user, one similar to majestics. It merely requires the right one to come
along.”
 “And you and that eye have that kind of bond?” Devol asked.
Koli’s other eye looked away for a moment and a playful smile formed on
his lips. “We have a rather unique bond and certainly a much better one than
the last owner had. But it is also a matter of how you use it. Salvo was so
obsessed with killing you that the demon mask latched on to that emotion and
fed it much like a flame, appropriately. He was merely not in the right mind
to use it, but any strong, negative emotion can have that effect under the
demon mask’s sway. Which was why we tried to use it on the ghouls, with
mixed results.”
Devol recalled the undead beings they had fought, both the large one
under Koli’s control from when they first met and the group that aided Salvo.
“Why ghouls?” he asked and returned his focus to the assassin. “I would
think making golems like the ones you fought earlier would be easier to
manage.”
“I would think so as well,” the assassin admitted with a shrug. “But that
seems to be their preference. Or rather the preference of someone in the
group, at least, and they are quite adept at it.”
Jazai noted the vague response and decided to see if he could push a little
more. “So if your last mission was only a contract, what got you involved?
Were they simply hiring or did they seek you out?”
“I was sought out,” he replied casually. “They had need of my services to
deal with a few specific troublemakers, which is my specialty. After the job
was finished, they renewed my contract for a few more missions. The pay
was quite nice so I decided why not? At least that was until our run-in.” He
looked at Devol’s majestic. “He was not so pleased when that mission
failed.”
The swordsman’s gaze lingered on the assassin for a moment before he
looked forward again. “Salvo kept mentioning a ‘he’ of some kind and
seemed very enamored with him.”
Koli sighed. “Yes, he was when I first signed on as well. We worked well
together and had some laughs but he would drone on about his ‘master’ so
much that it made unpleasant company during dinner. But I suppose that is
what it is like in a cult.”
“You worked for a cult?” Asla asked but remembered that she did not
mean to engage him and turned away.
“I’m sure they would not refer to themselves as such.” The assassin
laughed. “I only had a handful of personal interactions with their leader—a
nice fellow with a megalomaniac streak, but you wouldn’t think it when
talking to him. He has a passion for theater and stories.”
“So you know his plans?” Devol asked and glanced at Jazai, who took his
tome out. “Is there anything more you can share?”
“There is nothing much to say, to be honest. He’s like every potential
tyrant and wants to conquer the realms and all that. But I have to say his plan
to do so is…well, far grander than the usual evil army or cursed object from
older legends.”
Devol looked at his friend, who grumbled at his tome. It seemed he
wouldn’t get anything from him. “You are rather vague when you talk about
him, Koli,” he said bluntly. “You seem very protective of him even though
you are no longer under his contract.”
The trickster rolled his eye. “Still all these suspicions? You are a rather
wary trio, aren’t you?” He sighed but finished the exhalation with a small
chuckle. “I’m a contract killer and thief, and many are hesitant to approach
someone such as myself even if they need my services. It’s simply good
business to not blather about former employers.”
The swordsman turned, ready to challenge him about his shady dealings
and what it had to do with the Templars, when he saw movement out of the
corner of his eye. A shadowy being darted behind a corner on a ravine above
them. He halted and grasped Achroma’s as Jazai and Asla turned to see what
was wrong.
Koli walked for a couple more steps and when he stopped, he did not turn
but chortled and said, “So you finally noticed them?”
“How many of them are there?” Devol asked and the diviner flipped
hastily to a new page and narrowed his eyes as he read the logs being
scribbled down.
“More than you would probably like,” the assassin replied and looked
around. “But honestly, less than I would wish.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-E I G HT

“I’m getting four…no, five…no, seven—damn it, give me a second.” Jazai

continued to flip through the pages and his expression cycled from
concerned, to annoyed, and to shocked as he read the script as quickly as he
could.
“I see more above,” Asla said quietly and Devol realized there were
several ridges and openings above them. Numerous figures lurked in them
but it was too dark to make out any features.
“Do you think they are all hostile?” he asked and glanced at Koli, who
looked around with apparent unconcern although his darting gaze possibly
saw many more individuals than the friends did.
“Right now, it looks fairly mixed,” Jazai said at last and checked his
rings. “There are some who seem to be passing by and happened to see us or
possibly someone else. Others are looking for a fight but don’t seem focused
on us, so they have targeted someone else, and at least a few are after us
specifically.”
“Do they believe we are easy kills?” Asla asked and brandished her
claws.
“Wait, hold on a moment.” Jazai read something quickly on a page in the
tome, shut it, pointed his ring finger toward a nearby pillar, and fired a streak
of lightning at it. It slammed into the stone column and knocked some rock
off, but no one appeared. “What the hells? I was sure I picked up someone
stalking us behind that.”
“You most likely did,” Koli assured him. He stepped forward and raised
his hand to his eyepatch but didn’t remove it yet. “But they are far more
slippery than that. If they are who I think they are, it looks like this may be
another nice reunion for me.”
“Then you know this person?” Devol asked and drew Achroma.
Jazai snorted and scanned their surroundings for a potential attack. “And
we got mixed up in his mess. That wasn’t something we thought about.”
“I only said I believe I know who it is,” the assassin reiterated and
lowered his hand from his eyepatch. “It has been a while so I could have
confused his anima with another’s. But that bloodlust is very noticeable,” He
gave them a toothy grin and three small throwing knives appeared in his
hand. “I’ve never known you to be a coward, Zed. Come out and play.”
“And I never would have thought you a babysitter, Koli,” a gruff, raspy
voice responded. A man stepped out from behind the pillar Jazai had fired on.
He had long, matted black hair and a scruffy beard and was dressed in a black
vest, pants, and boots with long black gloves on his hands. In one hand, he
held an ornate long dagger. The blade gleamed silver, the grip and wrapping
were black, and on the bottom was the face of a feral animal Devol could not
identify, its face contorted with rage.
“Ah, so it is you,” the assassin said cheerfully and rolled the knives
between his fingers. “It has been so long, Zed. How are the rest of the
group?”
“You can ask them yourself, you lanky bastard.” The newcomer snapped
his fingers and three other figures joined him. A red squama appeared out of
the shadows on the opposite side of the pillar, dressed in similarly dark
clothes and a long fin atop his head had pieces missing, possibly cut or torn
out in fights.
Another jumped from above and landed on Zed’s right. The large wildkin
seemed to be a homina like Asla but was most likely a gorilla. She
immediately took a battle stance when she saw him, although he stared at
them, unmoving, almost as if he was utterly disinterested. A final figure
emerged from behind the gorilla wildkin, this one dressed from head to toe in
mixtures of green and brown and holding a longbow. They presented no
discernible features as they wore a full-face veil on their head and their
clothes were loose enough that trying to judge their body was also not easy,
but they seemed to have a slim waist which suggested a woman.
“Only three?” Koli asked, pointed at them, and counted dramatically.
“When I left, you had a few dozen.”
“Some died and others left,” Zed stated and his voice had begun to rattle
with anger. “It’s hard to keep a group together when the boss was killed.”
 “Oh, right. That.” The assassin tapped his chin. “Are you still going on
about that? It’s been years, Zed.”
“You killed my brother, you mutant bastard!” the man snapped, flipped
his blade, and looked like he was preparing to strike. The wildkin caught his
arm and held him back. “Let me go, Ramah!” he demanded. Asla flinched at
hearing the name and the response suprised Devol.
“I am certainly no mutant, Zed,” Koli said and clicked his tongue. “I’ve
told you before, it’s only an illusion rune tattooed into my skin.”
“You told us so many lies, what is one more?” the man asked and glared
angrily at the wildkin, who shrugged and released him. It seemed his fit of
rage had subsided enough that he wouldn’t immediately move to attack.
“I’ll never understand mercs like you.” The assassin sighed and began to
juggle the knives out of boredom. “You kill so many with no remorse for it
whatsoever, and yet as soon as one of you is killed, you’re surprised that
someone may have held your actions against you and wanted payback. Then
it’s all about honor and brotherhood and all that nonsense.”
Zed’s arms began to tremble. “Of course you wouldn’t understand. You
are a wretch who has never loved anyone.”
“True, but I am an assassin,” he responded and caught all three knives. “It
comes with the territory—not many strings attached to anyone or anything,”
He pocketed the knives and continued to look at the wrathful merc with a
whimsical smile. “I told you at the time, I was there to help you. I merely
happened to pick up a contract for your brother’s head during my stay.”
The man drew a long, heated breath, shook his head, and focused on the
three young magi. “So, who are the babes, Koli? Are they your apprentices or
something?”
“These little scamps?” He rubbed Devol and Asla’s heads, much to their
irritation. “We met a few months back and became fast friends.”
“So you do have friends then?” Zed scoffed. “I couldn’t imagine who
would trust their lives to you of all people.”
“It is more like an alliance of convenience,” Jazai admitted as he leaned
against a wall.
Koli frowned at the scholar. “I have to say, you are my least favorite.”
The boy shrugged. “The only reason I’m not my dad’s is because I’m an
only child. Although I think that qualifies me as most and least, technically.”
“Koli, that dagger of his…” Devol began and nodded at the blade. “Is that
a malefic?”
 The assassin looked at Zed and nodded. “Are you getting a feel for them
now, little Devol?”
He shuddered as he looked at the animal face on the pommel. “There’s
something unsettling about it.”
“It might be its owner more than the dagger itself,” Koli joked and raised
his hand to his eyepatch again. “So Zed, are you here for the trials or did you
follow little old me all the way here?”
The merc rolled his shoulders and looked at one of the ridges above and
the figures standing there. “Yeah, I’m here for the trials, but I caught a whiff
of your anima a little while ago and had to make sure it was your sorry ass.”
“Is that so?” The assassin inched his eyepatch up a little. “And what do
you intend to do now that you have found me?”
The squama leaned closer and whispered something in Zed’s ear, which
made the merc grit his teeth and shake his head. “Give me a second,” he
ordered and looked Devol. “You—kid with the sword—would you defend
that backstabber if I attacked him?”
The boy looked at Koli, who didn’t meet his eyes and simply continued to
smile at Zed. He looked at the merc and examined his malefic briefly before
he held his blade up. The light glowed slightly brighter. “I will,” he replied,
shocked his entire team, and drew a chuckle from Koli.
Zed sneered, tossed his dagger up, and caught it before he sheathed it.
“You have a poor taste in allies.”
“You are still so high and mighty,” the assassin responded. “If I had to
guess, you won’t attack me because someone here”—he gestured up above
—“has targeted you, probably because you killed someone they liked. You
can’t defend against an attack on two fronts, can you?”
The man turned and walked away. “I’ll send you to the hells myself, Koli,
trials be damned,” he promised as he and his group departed. The tension in
the air subsided quickly and many of the figures above headed down their
paths without challenging the merc. It looked like they chose to avoid a fight
for now.
Devol relaxed and sheathed Achroma. “Jazai, is there another path we can
take?”
“I’ll have a look,” his friend said as he brought the map out.
The swordsman sighed with relief but stiffened when he felt two hands
grasp his shoulders. “I think you are my favorite,” Koli whispered, patted his
arm, and walked a few steps ahead. “I look forward to the day we can truly
fight one another to the death.”
Asla directed a small hiss at the assassin and moved closer to Devol as
the boy shook his shoulders as if to dislodge the memory of the assassin’s
touch. Jazai sighed as he returned his attention to the map. “I think I prefer
being the least favorite.”
 C H A P T E R T W E NT Y-N I N E

Jazai was able to find an alternative path for the group to take but it was
unfortunately rather narrow. As the group scuttled through this tiny ravine
that seemed to have been made by the old miners as a possible shortcut
through this section of the caves, Devol was surprised that it was even on the
map. When he mentioned this, the diviner was quick to inform him that it
technically was not.
“What do you mean?” the swordsman asked as he hunched over to get
through a particularly cramped area. “Where are you taking us?”
“I’m only saying it's not on the official map,” his friend explained. “There
are a number of maps and the last one that was officially commissioned was
only a few years before the town was abandoned. I found a few others in the
library and copied them. This happened to be on one of them. It was probably
a personal map of an overseer or miner they gave away in the aftermath.”
“And it still takes us to our destination?” Asla asked and flattened her
ears to slide under a stumpy rock.
“Yeah. In fact, it lets us cut right through another trail so it should be
faster,” the boy reasoned.
“So this was the plan all along?”
“Not exactly,” he admitted. “It’s not the most convenient way to travel.”
“How much farther?” Devol asked when Achroma’s hilt snagged on a
jagged piece of rock. “I keep getting stuck on things in here.”
“Only a little farther. We should soon be in another cavern of some kind,”
he assured them. “I’m not sure what we can expect but it will certainly have
far more space, at least.”
“It appears there is an opening ahead,” Koli stated and leaned against the
wall so the others could look past him.
“Well, get moving then so we can stretch a little,” Jazai retorted. “You’re
the tallest one here. I would think you would be as interested in getting out of
here as any of us.”
“This is rather nostalgic for me.” The assassin chuckled. “When I was a
kid, I would have to crawl through all manner of tight corridors and spaces.”
“What were you? An explorer or something?”
The trickster looked at him with a glint in his eye. “No. When I was
young, I had to do my work more traditionally. It took longer but was quite
rewarding.” With that, he moved ahead and slipped into the opening.
Jazai sighed and pushed through behind him. “I’m sorry I asked.”
Devol and Asla followed and the boy took the lantern off his pack and
held it up to get a look around them. It seemed to be nothing more than an
empty cavern, about half the size of the one where they fought the golems
and maybe less. But it had been worked, at least at one point, so there
probably was something there that the miners had been interested in back in
the day.
“The other opening should be across the way,” Jazai told them and
pointed deeper into the darkness. “If we push ahead, we should find—”
“Wait a second,” Asla warned in a whisper and her ears flicked. “Do you
hear that?”
The other three stood silently. “What? Is it bugs or something?” Devol
asked.
She shook her head and looked to the north-east. “It sounds like…like
crunching,”
“Crunching?” The diviner glanced around them and seemed spooked.
“Like walking on gravel or—”
“Something eating something else,” Asla clarified.
He sighed and held his ringed hand up. “I was afraid of that.”
“It can’t be too big, right?” Devol asked and moved his hand to his sword
as he took a few steps forward. “The only way in is through those narrow
passages, so maybe it’s a—”
“Do you see that light?” Koli asked and pointed deeper into the cavern.
The group turned and sure enough, a dim light, most likely from a campfire
or lantern, glowed on the east side of the cave inside a small den.
“Someone else is here?” the wildkin asked, surprised.
“It could be another trial participant who got lost,” Jazai pointed out.
“Should we investigate?”
Devol began to feel uneasy and looked at his hands, surprised to see his
fingers shaking. He did not feel particularly cold or tired and yet he felt
heavy, and he wondered reflexively if he had inadvertently dropped his
anima. With a deep breath to steady himself, he checked his hands and was
relieved when he confirmed that they had stilled.
“Hey, Devol,” Jazai said and poked him in the shoulder.
“Hmm, what?” he responded and turned to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying
attention.”
“Should we see what that light is?” the diviner asked again and regarded
him curiously. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He refocused on the dimly lit den. “Yeah, let’s
have a look. We have to head over to that side to leave anyway, right? If we
can help another magi, that would be a bonus.”
“Assuming it isn’t one like the last one we encountered,” the other boy
replied as he and Asla followed their teammate toward the den.
Koli, for once, was not smiling. His lips were pursed as he studied the
light and he took a moment to look at the top of the cavern and let his mana
flow into his eyes. In an instant, his smile returned.
When the three friends entered the den, they did indeed find a campfire
and a thin man hunched over it, eating something. He appeared to be wearing
a jumpsuit with the top half unzipped and falling off his shoulders to reveal a
thin, waifish figure.
“Excuse me, are you all right?” Devol asked. The man responded with a
surprised yelp, dropped whatever he was eating, and skittered away, holding
his hands up. “Whoa, hey. I’m sorry if I startled you. We only wanted to see
—”
The stranger began to sob— a few small whimpers at first before he
howled his grief. His hands covered his face and the boy noticed cuts and
bruises on his arms and chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” he wailed and shook
his head violently. “I didn’t mean to—I know I shouldn’t have but we were
desperate. I know they have loved ones waiting but we were trapped and
couldn’t get out.”
“Trapped?” Asla asked and scrunched her nose when she noticed a foul
stench, most likely this man. “He knows about the crevasses, right?”
“If anything, given his size, he should fit through better than we did,”
Jazai pointed out.
 Devol took a few steps forward. “It’s okay, sir. There is a way out. How
long have you been here?”
“It was about survival,” he moaned and lowered his head and hands, his
face still obscured. “Poor, mad Timothy only tried to survive. But then it…
it…I didn’t think…”
The wildkin looked at the fire and her eyes widened. “Devol, get away
from him!”
Confused, he turned to look at her. The man yanked a pickax from his
jumpsuit and when the boy turned back, he stared into the miner’s pale and
gaunt face. His eyes were black and blood smeared his lips and chin.
Shocked by this unexpected development, the swordsman darted his gaze
to the fire, the bloody meat that had been dropped, and far behind it near the
stone wall, a pile of bones.
The man smiled and revealed a row of sharp, pointed teeth. “I didn’t think
it would taste so good.”
Asla pulled Devol away as Jazai immediately lashed out with an
immolate cantrip. The fire streaked into the crazed man but seemed to have
no effect as he held his pickax up and attempted to hack the scholar, who
teleported back several yards.
“Timothy is out, I’m out—I’m out!” he sputtered and swung wildly as he
approached the two friends who had yet to attempt an attack. “I need more—
I’m out and it’s about survival!”
Devol drew Achroma and was about to retaliate when Koli appeared in
front of him and whipped his eyepatch off. The surroundings around the man
distorted, the rocks began to crack, and dust flurried and circled, but the man
did not. Instead, he became translucent, his voice grew softer and quieted all
together, and the campfire, meat, and bones behind him all vanished. Finally,
the man disappeared and evaporated in a haze of blue mana.
“What did you do to him?” the swordsman asked, shocked at what he had
seen.
“I distorted the mana flow around him,” the assassin explained as he
replaced the eyepatch. “If he had been a real man, he would have been bent
and broken. But an illusion cannot hold together in my domain.”
“Illusion?” the diviner asked.
“An illusion?” Asla looked at where the campfire had been. “But I felt the
heat of the fire and smelled the rot. Who created an illusion in this remote
cavern? Are they still here?”
 “Not who but what, young magi,” Koli responded, stepped out of the den,
and pointed to the ceiling. “Illuminate.” A ball of light formed on his finger
and rocketed to the cavern roof. The trio walked outside and saw, dotting the
entire ceiling, small, deep-red crystals set into the ceiling—vermillion.
Jazai was the first to snap out of his stupor and shook his head vigorously.
“My father was not working with enough vermillion. That’s probably a good
thing.”
“I…I would like to leave,” Asla stammered, lowered her head, and
moved toward where they assumed the exit would be.
“There is no need to thank me. Although I’m not sure if you were in any
physical danger, vermillion can be deadly. It would have been an interesting
experiment,” Koli said thoughtfully as he joined the wildkin to help her find
the exit to the cavern.
Devol looked at where the man had disappeared as Jazai stepped beside
him. “Are you all right?”
He nodded and gazed at the vermillion above as Koli’s light began to
fade. “When we talked about vermillion at the castle, you said it collected
mana from dying miners, right?”
“It’s possible—or at least the stories I read claimed that,” his friend
agreed.
“If this cavern was discovered by miners…” He looked at the fissure they
had come through. “If they were trapped in here, do you think that was an
illusion or a reenactment?”
Jazai clenched his jaw and pushed his friend forward. “For now, let’s
focus on the trials,” he said and took one last look at the vermillion as the
light finally faded entirely. “And winning them. I don’t want to add my mana
or soul to this place.”
 CHAPTER THIRTY

The group finally left the haunted chamber minutes later and entered another
larger hall. This one had a noticeable light several hundred yards ahead. The
three young magi, still somewhat shaken by their recent experience, looked at
the light with hope and relief. Koli continued to hum pleasantly in an
undertone.
They hurried down the hall but made sure there were no traps or last-
second surprises during their approach. As they drew closer, they heard the
rumble of numerous voices talking to one another and the crackle of fire.
Once they entered, they paused to study a large, circular cavern where dozens
of magi had settled all over the area. Torches adorned the walls and a large
light orb hung in the air.
“We made it,” Jazai stated with a contented sigh. “Either that or everyone
here is lost. That would be a pain.”
“It wasn’t such a bad journey,” Devol commented as he stretched his
arms. “Outside of the murderers and golems, and that likan… Well, it could
have been better, I guess.”
“Murderers?” Koli asked and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, which
made him flinch. “Are you referring to me as well, little Devol?”
“Isn’t that correct?” Asla interjected. She bared a fang and hissed under
her words.
The swordsman nodded to her to calm her. “We ran into a couple of
killers in town before we entered the cave,” he explained. “In fact, where did
you enter, Koli? Didn’t you run into them?”
“I didn’t enter through Reverie,” the assassin stated, removed his hand,
and tapped his chin. “I found a smaller entrance—I estimate around forty or
so miles north-west of the town—and came through that.”
“And you somehow wandered to us while exploring?” Jazai took the map
out and attempted to mentally create a path of Koli’s travels. “Man, you were
lost, weren’t you?”
The assassin chuckled and it settled into a friendly smile. “It’s a good
thing for me that I ran across you three, isn’t it?” He shrugged indifferently.
“It would seem spelunking is not my strong suit. I’ll have to work on it in the
future.”
“New arrivals,” a feminine voice stated, one slightly familiar to the three
younger magi. The group turned as Karrie, the female mori from earlier,
walked toward them. “So, it is Wulfsun’s apprentices.”
Jazai pointed at Devol. “Technically that’s only him.” He gestured at Asla
and himself. “We’re merely trainees.”
“I see.” She looked at their new teammate and narrowed her eyes as he
smiled pleasantly at her. “And who is this?”
Devol looked at the assassin. “An acquaintance we ran into on the way
here.”
“Koli. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a small bow.
“One of your associates invited me to this party you’re throwing. I’m
surprised you are unaware of me.”
“Well then,” she muttered and looked briefly over her shoulder at
someone who stood on a large cliff at the back of the chamber. Devol noticed
several figures in the dark robes of the council members but could not see
which one she had looked. “On that note,” she said and held her hand out.
“Please give me your signets.”
The group retrieved them from their respective pockets and handed them
to her. She closed her hand once all were inside and there was a flash of blue
fire. Once she opened it again, the signets were still there but the black color
had been burned away to reveal different colored signets with new emblems.
She selected one with a golden sword and handed it Jazai, then chose a
silver star and handed it to Asla. The final two were a red star and a blue
crown. This seemed to surprise her for a moment before she simply shrugged
and handed them out. The star went to Koli and the crown to Devol.
“Keep hold of these,” she instructed and turned away as they examined
the emblems. “You need them for the rest of the trial. We shall begin at
midnight.”
“What are these emblems about?” Jazai asked but she disappeared before
he could even finish his question and left him to grunt in annoyance.
“Midnight, huh?” Devol flicked his signet up in the air and caught it. “It’s
a good thing we decided to come early.”
“It would appear so.” Asla nodded in agreement. “Otherwise, we may
have been disqualified.”
Koli pocketed his signet and began to walk away from the group. Jazai
rolled the map and called out to him. “Where are you going?”
“Hmm?” The assassin turned back. “Will you be lonely without me, my
friend?”
The diviner shivered at the thought. “Truly, that’s not my main concern. I
thought you were in our party, so where are you wandering off to? Midnight
is in a couple of hours.”
“Indeed.” The older magi slid his hands into his pockets. “And it looks
like I have some time to kill.” He stared into the crowd. Devol followed his
gaze to where Zed and his team huddled in a circle on the west side of the
cavern. Koli’s gaze moved to a bald man in shining armor, equipped with a
large blade who huddled by himself as a few other magi chatted around him.
“You should recall that our party only lasted until we reached the
chamber, but I intend to keep my promise.” The assassin looked at them.
“Unless I have reason to, I will not attack you during the rest of these trials.
But you should probably be more concerned with…well, everyone else.” He
turned away and slid a hand out of a pocket to wave at them. “Have fun, little
ones.”
The three watched him go. They were all stone-faced for a moment
before Devol sighed and shrugged. “If the truth be told, I can’t tell if I’m
more concerned or relieved.”
“I, for one, am fine with him leaving.” Asla folded her arms as she
scanned the room. “I recognize some of the players here.”
The swordsman’s gaze drifted over the many different teams gathered
there. “Hmm…like who?”
She pointed out a trio of wildkin. “Those three—the two deer homina and
rat verte wildkin. They are a group of traveling adventurers similar to us.”
She paused and pursed her lips. “I remember them from when I lived in the
kingdom. I’m surprised to see them here, though. They are good hunters, but
they never aimed to be anything more than that from what I remember. All
they wanted was to make a pleasant life for themselves.”
“It looks like their ambitions have grown,” Jazai commented. “What
about Zed’s wildkin buddy? You seemed surprised to see him.”
“Yes, Ramah,” she recalled with a nod. “He has a reputation as a fierce
and strong fighter. He sells himself out as a mercenary. I did not know that he
was currently allied with any person or group in particular, though.”
Devol looked at Zed’s group again and studied the gorilla wildkin. “He’s
big and certainly looks strong but doesn’t seem the bloodthirsty type. I’m
almost surprised to see him with someone like Zed, who seems…uh, of an
angrier temperament.”
“Perhaps,” Asla said with a frown. “But from what I have heard…well,
you have seen with Koli that not all killers are ravening lunatics or wrathful
avengers. Some are calm and decisive, which I believe to be far more
terrifying.”
“I see.” The swordsman looked at Jazai. “What about you? Do you
recognize anyone?”
“Well, there’s him obviously,” the other boy said and nodded to the north
side. Devol looked over and his eyes almost popped out of his head. A man in
leather armor laughed heartily with about ten or so men around him. He had a
long, unkempt brown beard and dark-brown eyes and held a mace in one
hand and shield in the other as the men around him cheered.
“Wait, is that Jett?!” asked, gobsmacked. “The bandit leader from—”
“Our first mission,” Asla finished.
“We might be overqualified for these tests if he was able to make it this
far,” the diviner said with a soft laugh.
“I wonder how many men he lost along the way,” the wildkin added
thoughtfully.
“I guess he wants to become a mercenary leader now,” Devol surmised.
“Seriously, what use does a bandit have for an Oblivion marker?”
“Maybe to get some of his warrants cleared,” Jazai suggested. “Or to use
it to go to a different realm. After all, he did get beaten by a group of kids.”
“Do you notice anyone else?” Asla asked.
The diviner craned his neck and searched the crowd. “No one I know
personally, but I see some familiar faces from wanted posters or who I know
by reputation.” He pointed to a hunter in a long, faded blue cloak. “That’s
Yule, a hunter associated with the assassin’s guild Black Sun out of Osira. He
supposedly works solo nowadays.”
He pointed out two female magi, one human with long black hair and the
other a dryad with reddish-brown skin, short green-hued hair, and a single
curved horn. “Those are an ambassador pair to the kingdom of Britana and
the dryad realm. The human woman is Mara and the dryad is Calipsi. I don’t
know why they would be here. You would think they had a cushy enough job
to keep them busy and comfortable.”
After a moment, he pointed to a man dressed in dark robes with a wide-
brimmed hat. “And that’s Rome, a dark mage who had a warrant out for him
in Britana and Soel. But he’s more blunder than power from what I
understand. He ran from both kingdoms as soon as he heard of those warrants
instead of continuing with his plans.”
“What about you, Devol?” Asla asked and gestured around the cave. “Do
you see anyone?”
The swordsman looked around. He truly hoped not as it was more likely
that he would see a friend rather than an evil magi or rival. His search
thankfully brought no results, but his gaze did linger on a large warrior in
dark armor with an ax on his waist. He seemed somewhat familiar—or his
armor did, at least—but he wore a helm that covered his face, which left him
unidentifiable. Devol simply shrugged and shook his head. “No, at least that I
can see, but there is still time for more to arrive.”
Jazai took his pack off, opened it to put the map away, and rummaged
through it. “Well, I have no intentions to try to make fast friends right now.”
He withdrew a small container and opened it to reveal a rice bowl with some
meat. “What say we have one last meal before this starts?”
His friends agreed, sat beside him, and opened their packs to retrieve their
prepared meals. They huddled together and chatted casually like the other the
magi around the cavern, all enjoying one final moment of peace before the
clock struck midnight.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y- O N E

“So how many does that make now?” Jazai asked and looked up from his
book as another two magi walked into the cave and were greeted quickly by
one of the council members.
“One hundred and twenty-seven so far,” Devol stated before he looked at
his friends and shook his head. “I keep forgetting to add us in the total. So a
hundred and thirty even.”
“It is quite a large group,” Asla commented and looked around the cave
from her perch atop a large stone. “And all potential enemies.”
“And a large number of bodies for them to whittle through,” Jazai added,
closed his book, and tucked it into his backpack. “Midnight is almost here. At
most, there are fifteen or fewer winners in the trials. Even if we go with the
highest amount, it means one hundred and fifteen losers.”
“How long do you think the trials will last?” Devol asked.
The other boy shrugged. “It can vary but normally, the real trial is rather
short compared to the prologue.”
“Prologue?” Asla asked as she climbed down from the rock.
“Yeah, as in all the stuff we did to get here.” He held a hand up and
counted off on his fingers. “Being qualified, discovering the location, getting
here through all the nuisances, those things.”
“You don’t think all of that was set up, do you?” The swordsman glanced
at the cliff and the council members. “I mean that they played a part in it?”
Jazai shrugged again. “I’m not sure I would go that far, but remember
what we heard before we even reached here? Those who were mugged for
their signets and the likes of people like Merri and Hem who killed
participants before they even reached the cave. It may not be official, but I’ve
considered us in the trial ever since we got our signets.”
“Look, the Council is moving,” Asla warned them. The friends and many
other magi focused on the dark-clothed figures who walked to the edge of the
cliff and looked down at all of them. The tallest among them lowered their
hood to reveal Mephis, the daemoni they had met before.
“A good evening to you all,” he announced and his voice resounded
through the cavern as everyone fell silent. “Congratulations on making it this
far. I speak for the Council in welcoming you to the Oblivion Trials.”
“Hey, aren’t there a few minutes left until midnight?” a magi shouted and
earned some annoyed expletives and shouts to “shut up” from some of the
others.
“There are,” Mephis acknowledged. “But no one else has the time to
make it. We have observed the entirety of this cave system for days. The
closest magi to this chamber are over an hour away.”
“Observed the caves?” Devol queried and looked Jazai. “I didn’t notice
any runes or curios that could let them do that.”
“I didn’t either,” his friend responded with a frown. “They must have a
very powerful diviner among them.”
“So what happens to the rest, then?” another shouted.
“They will be attended to,” Mephis answered and looked around the
crowd. “But why ask about them? Shouldn’t you be concerned with
yourselves?”
“He makes a good point,” the diviner reasoned and his gaze swept the
room. “I don’t feel anything off yet, which is more disturbing than it should
be.”
“You have all come here for your own reasons, exactly as you were able
to qualify through your own means, be those whatever they may be,” the
daemoni stated. “But now, you all have the same goal—to survive.”
“Is that it?” a boastful voice shouted. Devol noticed Jett grinning
fiendishly at the council member. “I’ve been a bandit for decades. That’s the
number one rule for those in our profession.”
“A bandit got in?” another magi asked. “What is this idiocy?”
“You wanna say that again, you blathering idiot?” one of Jett’s men
roared as the others began to shout and hurl insults behind him.
“Silence!” Mephis shouted and finally displayed a trace of anger as his
voice cut through any shouted exchanges in the cavern. “You’ll have your
chance to settle your squabbles later. For now, there is no difference between
bandit and archon or hunter and assassin. You will all be nothing more than
corpses by the end of this if you are not up to the task.”
This declaration caused a shift in the crowd as everyone recalled where
they were. Devol watched curiously as Zed approached the cliff. “Then why
are we standing around?” the man demanded and folded his arms. “If the first
test is waiting, I’m done already. Patience isn’t a virtue of mine—not that I
have many to begin with.”
“Clearly,” Mephis muttered. “So you are ready to begin?”
Zed took his signet out and held it up. “Yeah. Simply tell us the point of
these colorful little coins and let’s get on with it.”
The daemoni uttered an odd sound and Devol could swear he was stifling
a laugh. “Very well, then, but we will explain the signets later.”
“Later? I thought we were starting now!” a magi shouted.
Mephis nodded as two other figures approached the edge and stopped
beside him. “We are, but the next part of the trial has no need for the signets
yet. As I said, your only objective now is simply to survive.”
One of the council members raised their hands and twirled them. Rocks
dislodged from around the cavern and quickly piled up at the two entrances to
seal them off. The other waved their hand and large wards were placed on the
rocks to block other forms of magic from affecting them as the torches went
out around the cave and the orb of light disappeared to leave them all in
darkness.
“What in the hells?” was a common cry, along with confused shouts and
annoyed steams of curses.
“I can’t port out of here,” Jazai stated and snapped his fingers. “Some
kind of ward or item must be blocking me.”
“Can we get some lights in here?” someone shouted. Individual torches
and lanterns were lit quickly. Devol drew Achroma and brightened it with a
trace of mana as several magi fired different light spells to illuminate the
cavern.
On the cliff, the council members had disappeared and left the large
group of magi alone.
“Do they plan to simply starve us out?” Asla demanded and glared at one
of the sealed entrances.
“It seems foolish,” Jazai commented and squinted at the wards
surrounding the rocks. “Those are fairly fancy, but given how many magi are
in here, we could probably destroy those wards or at least disassemble them
in ten minutes or less.”
“He said this was about survival,” Devol reminded them. “Given
everything we had to do to get here, it would seem rather anticlimactic to
simply make this a test of attrition.”
“True enough.” The diviner placed his hand against one of the walls. “I
sense wards inside the cavern walls as well, so I guess that means we can’t
dig our way out.”
“Wait,” Asla ordered and her ears flicked. “I hear rumbling.”
“More golems?” the swordsman asked.
“I hear breathing as well, coming from above.” She held her claws up as
she stared at the ceiling. He looked around to see dozens of magi doing the
same while some prepared spells and weapons. “Something is coming.”
It did not take long to arrive. In a matter of moments, the ceiling began to
crack and Devol heard the breathing Asla had described. To him, it sounded
more like a hungry, desperate, salivating.
“Look—the cliffs!” a man cried. The swordsman did so as several beasts
ported onto the cliff's edge—flayers, likan, and a large, muscular horned
beast that raised itself on its back legs and bellowed a deafening cry. The
ceiling finally burst open and dozens of creatures swarmed through and
plummeted toward those gathered below.
“To battle!” The war cry triggered several others in response as all the
magi present began to fight for their lives. Spells streaked overhead and
Devol could see the effects of dozens of exotics in action as well as hear the
pained shouts and gurgles of death from several in the room, both beast and
man.
“Flayer!” Asla shouted and pointed to the creature that climbed across the
wall and headed rapidly toward them.
Jazai jumped out in front and placed his hand on the wall. “Frost,” he
invoked and sent a wave of ice through the stone that enveloped the beast and
trapped the left side of its body in a frozen shell. As it reared with its other
claw to hack at the restraining cold, Devol leapt upward and beheaded the
beast before it could free itself, landed, and turned to his friends as he wiped
a blob of blood from his cheek.
“So what’s the plan here?” the diviner asked and scowled at the chaos
that unfolded around them as more beasts continued to pour in from above.
“Do we engage them or wait for them to come to us?”
“How many are there?” Asla asked as her anima hummed to life. “And
how quickly can we get through them?”
The swordsman grasped Achroma and his gaze settled on the large
horned beast where it prepared to jump off the cliff into the cavern. “It’s like
he said.” Devol held his blade up and let the light shine off it as he looked at
his friends. “We only need to survive, and we will have a better time doing
that if we all work together.”
Before his friends could respond with negative comments about the
likelihood—or not—of the other trialists agreeing, the beast finally leapt off
the cliff, pounded onto the cavern floor, and hurled both magi and beast
aside. It began to batter the ground with its fists. Devol and several other
warrior magi looked at it and as one, roared and charged the giant creature as
the monsters continued their feast.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T WO

“Yeah, go ahead and charge the big monster.” Jazai grunted as he turned and
blasted two mana missiles into the sky to knock down two flying critters that
swooped down on him. “It’s not like there aren’t enough to go around.”
“Should we help him?” Asla asked but felt a rumble beneath her and
vaulted onto a large rock as a giant wurm burst out of the ground. It opened a
four-lipped mouth to reveal a row of rounded teeth.
“He’ll be all right,” the diviner affirmed as he walked closer and held a
hand up that was covered in flame. “For now, let’s focus on our priorities.”
He thrust his hand forward and unleashed a torrent of fire at the wurm. It
screeched and shriveled. “And try not to use too much mana. I have a feeling
this isn’t only to skew the numbers.”

Devol and three other weapon-wielding magi struck the large beast together.
It blocked the strikes with its massive forearms and uttered another loud roar
as it swung its arms forward and knocked them all back.
“What the hells is an asterius doing here? I thought they were only found
in Kanako?” an archer questioned as he fired several bolts at the monster. The
beast’s fur seemed to come to life, wrapped around the bolts, and tossed them
aside. “And it’s enchanted?”
As the swordsman pushed to his feet, he looked at the archer and drew his
blink dagger. “Hey, do you have any twine or string?”
The man looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Yeah, why?”
 Devol tossed him the dagger. “Tie this to an arrow and fire it over its
head!”
While the archer complied somewhat dubiously, the swordsman looked
back as the warrior who had seemed familiar before picked a large rock up.
His ax glowed and the stone soon transformed into an earthen ax. “Rage!” he
shouted and his anima flared as his muscles engorged and his skin tightened.
He charged the asterius as two other warriors activated the giant cantrip
and grew to almost double their sides. They held the monster back as the
warrior leapt onto its chest and began to slice through it in a fury. The beast
rumbled deep in its throat and sparks shot from its horns before lightning
appeared to shock the two large warriors while it seized the berserker in one
of its hands. The warrior uttered a furious cry as he dug his ax into the beast’s
hand and sliced through its thumb. It cried out when the digit was sliced off
and released its attacker.
“Ready?” Devol asked and charged Achroma.
The archer nocked the dagger-wound arrow. “Whenever you are, kid.”
The boy nodded and the arrow was fired. As soon as it reached a position
atop the asterius, he warped to it, grasped the projectile as he turned in the air,
and buried Achroma in the skull of the monster. He held on as it uttered a
ragged wail, fell to its knees, and then to its chest. Before it could roll and
crush him, he slid off and yanked his blade out of its skull as he heard some
congratulatory cheers and some loud shrieks from the hole above.

Koli watched this all with amusement. The young magi was quite
resourceful, at least. After their first encounter, he had thought his ability was
nothing more than the magic gifted to him by the majestic. Now, it seemed he
backed that up with bravado and some actual skill. He would be a delight to
fight in a few years.
Noticeable hissing behind him made him turn to focus on a trio of flayers
that crept up on him. He sighed and removed his eye patch as one lunged
toward him, only to be caught in midair and have its top half twisted all the
way around and pulled off its body. The other two watched, stunned, as its
body fell to the floor and he turned to them and smiled. “Well, are you simply
going to stand there or will you make your move?” The flayers, seemingly
understanding the taunt, raised their scythe-like claws. “Oh, I wasn’t talking
to you.”
The arms of one of the creatures were severed and before it could shriek,
its throat was cut. The other turned but a large hole formed in its head and
blood spurted out before it collapsed.
“Frightening,” the assassin declared and looked at the severed arm. “Still
not quite precise, though, my dear Zed.”
The mercenary leader appeared behind the body of the second flayer and
stared daggers at him. “If you could sense me, why let these beasts sneak up
on you, Koli?”
A throwing knife appeared in the assassin’s hand and he balanced it on
one finger. “I was preoccupied watching all the fun,” he replied, flipped the
knife, and balanced the point. “Besides, something as trivial as a few lesser
flayers doesn’t bother me, but it does make me think.” He tossed the knife up
again and caught it by the hilt. “I see a good number of lesser flayers around
but where’s the alpha?”
The ground beneath them shook and the earth burst upward as a large
alpha appeared, its claws at least two and a half feet long with a spiked
carapace. It looked at them and sharpened its claws on one another.
“You hold it down,” Zed ordered and readied his dagger. “I’ll end it fast.”
“Will you help little old me?” Koli asked and put the throwing knife
away. “I thought you intended to kill me.”
“I will kill you,” the man affirmed as the creature raised its claws. “But I
want the privilege all to myself.”
“Oh, so controlling.” He chuckled as the flayer attacked. Both bounded
back and Zed disappeared into the shadows as the assassin looked at the
alpha and activated his eye. The space around the flayer distorted to lock the
beast in place and began to spin its claws inward toward itself.
Large gashes appeared through its body and sliced deep into its heavy
carapace as it struggled to free itself before a large wound appeared on its
neck. The alpha froze, the head rolled off, and Koli released his hold and
watched as its body fell into several different pieces in a heap on the floor.
Zed reappeared from the shadows and placed his boot on top of the
creature’s head as the magi gave him brief applause. “Well done. You’ve
certainly gotten better with your malefic in the time since our partnership.”
He replaced his eyepatch. “We do make a good team, don’t we?”
The merc growled and crushed the head beneath his boot. “Don’t try that
with me, you cur.” He spun his dagger and stepped back to disappear into the
shadows. “I’ll do so much worse to you,” he warned as he faded away.
Koli chuckled and folded his arms as he returned to observing the various
battles and noticed that some rather large winged creatures had joined the
fray. “I look forward to the attempt,” he said quietly.

Rome, the dark mage, formed a ring of fire around him before he let it blaze
outward to fry some likan and wurms that harried him. He looked at the
results, unsatisfied because he had hoped to immolate some of the other
contestants in that blast. Perhaps they were better than he gave them credit
for.
This surprise attack was a farce, of course, a simple distraction. Once he
found the council members, he would make them pay for using such an
underhanded tactic like this.
A stinging pain flared in his shoulders as he was lifted off his feet. He
uttered a surprised yelp and looked up at the large, winged bat creature that
hoisted him effortlessly ever higher. Instinctively, he struggled to free
himself, grasped one of the claws that pierced his shoulder, and yelled, “Ebon
tendrils!” Dark, webbed tendrils sprouted in the bat’s body and crushed its
claws before they twined around its body and wings. It began to fall and
released him.
Damned beast—it dared to lay a hand on him? He would destroy all their
kind, he vowed furiously. A screech made him look back. He continued to
fall but another creature flew directly toward him with its jaw open and fangs
glistening. All he could do was utter the beginning of a scream as the fangs
sank into his neck.

“Well, there goes Rome,” Jazai muttered as the dark mage was devoured by
the nocarok. “You know, I should have considered the fact that if there were
nocalocs, there would be nocaroks to defend them.” A loud crash nearby
caught his attention and he looked to where Asla bounded off the body of
another nocarok. “Nice catch. I wondered where you went.”
 “It looked like you were fine dealing with the wurms,” she explained,
adjusted her gloves, and tried to shake some of the blood off her claws.
“There are so many of them, but we are more than adept at dealing with
monsters such as these by now.”
“Yeah. All those missions were good for something.” He assessed the
cavern. “They seem to be dwindling finally, so it looks like this first task is
almost over.”
Her ears perked up. “Then this was simply part of the trial?”
The scholar nodded. “Yeah, although it’s not like they would kill us all
for showing up. It would be kind of a roundabout way to do it, anyway.”
She looked at Devol, who was helping to clear the center of the room. “If
we are almost done, I’ll go and help him.”
“It’s probably a good idea,” Jazai agreed and pushed off the wall he was
leaning against. “We can get this wrapped up quicker unless they have any
surprises le—”
Another rumble in the cavern froze them in mid-step and both wondered
if this was another barrage of beasts. No, not a barrage this time, they
realized. The two friends gaped as the center of the cavern began to crumble.
Devol and a few other magi flung themselves quickly to safety or ported
away as the ground fell away and a large, multi-headed, snake-like beast
appeared. “A hydra?” Asla gasped.
“Well, that is certainly a surprise.” Jazai watched as Devol lifted
Achroma. The blade glowed ever brighter and caught the attention of at least
two heads. “There are dozens of other magi around you. Let one of them be
the hero for once.” He sighed and caught hold of the wildkin’s arm. “Come
on. We need to get down there before he gets himself killed.”
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T H R E E

“There’s a hydra now?” A magi exclaimed as arrows, spells, and knives were
thrown at the creature. “I’ve heard of no hydras in this cave!”
“It must have been summoned or conjured,” another reasoned and formed
a fire orb. “Kill it quickly and burn or curse the heads to stop them from
regenerating.” One of the hydra’s heads saw him. Its blue scales shimmered
and it cast out a stream of mana. The magi fired his orb but it disappeared in
the stream that struck him and burned his body to ash.
“This is no simple beast,” Jett shouted and rounded his men up. “Prepare
the gunpowder!”
“In a cave?” Mara shouted. “Are you daft? Keep beating it down, you
pricks!”
Devol yelled defiantly as he used Achroma’s magic to lengthen the blade
and swiped at one of the heads to sever it and sear a trail of light over the
wound. He had never faced a hydra but every small child knew the tale—cut
one head off and purge the wound lest it grow back angrier than before.
He watched as the light in the wound turned to fire and cauterized it.
Although he smiled triumphantly, he failed to notice that a couple of the
other heads had taken exception to his attack. The scales on both began to
flicker and they each formed an orb of magic in their maw which they both
launched at him.
The approaching lights caught his attention and he reached for his dagger
but an arm caught hold of him and a moment later, he stood yards away. The
orbs struck the ground and created large craters in their wake.
“Nice work,” Jazai congratulated as he released the swordsman’s arm.
“Try to stay alive to relish it.”
 “Thanks, Jazai,” Devol said with a nod and looked around. “Where’s
Asla?”
The scholar looked around. “She was supposed to be here.” They both
heard a familiar shout, even above all the chaos, and looked up to where she
sank her claws into one of the heads. Her anima took on its feline form and
she swung both arms to decapitate the head and bounded off as another magi
fired a spell that created a rune on the wound and sealed it. The two boys
hurried to her as she tried to shake the blood off her garb.
“Good job, Asla,” the swordsman said as he tried to help her to wipe
some of it away.
“Indeed, but you are lucky that it didn’t have caustic blood like some
hydra species do,” Jazai commented as he examined it closely. “But I don’t
think this is an ordinary hydra.”
Devol and his friends backed away. Several heads remained and he
winced as one struck at a magi who had slipped over a body and was
snatched into the hungry maw. “Hydras are magical beasts, aren’t they?”
“I’ve never seen one that uses disintegration magic,” the diviner replied
and pulled his teammates back. “That is a very advanced technique and
unstable too. You are constantly shifting the essence of mana so it is
disturbed and destroys any other mana it touches.”
“Where did they find such a thing?” Asla asked and made sure to keep an
eye on the beast as they retreated. “Was it lurking in the caves all this time?”
“Maybe, but I’m starting to believe they have a summoner or transmuter
who they used to bring all these monsters here.” Jazai checked his rings. “It
doesn’t matter, though. We need to just focus on finishing this and the rest of
—”
The earth below them began to soften and they started to sink. The
scholar reacted quickly, grasped his partners, and ported them to the edge of
the cavern. They stared as the area below and around the hydra turned to
quicksand and swallowed the beast whole, along with a couple of dozen other
beasts, corpses, and even a few magi who couldn’t react in time to escape the
mire.
As the monster was slowly submerged, it fired a few blasts of its
disintegration magic at the ceiling, seemingly in an attempt to cause a cave-
in. It was enveloped by the quicksand that hardened into rock and
transformed into the spiker variant from before.
“What was that?” Devol asked.
 “A transmuter,” Jazai answered and looked around for the magi. “A very
good one too. Whoever they are, we might want to be wary of them if we
have to fight. The liquify and solidify trick is well known but on that scale,
it's well beyond your average magi.”
“I don’t see who did it, though,” Asla responded. “And it has become
rather quiet.”
Zed walked up to his squama compatriot and gave him a quick clap on
the shoulder. “Good work, Tiso,” he complimented. “It took you long
enough, though,”
The reptilian humanoid narrowed his eyes at his leader. “If I hadn’t
prepared properly, I could have swallowed you, myself, and everyone else in
that quicksand too.”
The merc simply shrugged. “It would have sped these trials up.”
Tiso chuckled and nodded as he slipped his hands into his robe sleeves.
“True, and very quickly too. But I think more would have survived than I’d
have hoped.”
A few hundred yards away, Koli lowered his hand from his eyepatch and
slid it into his pocket. “Well, I didn’t even have a chance to play.” He leaned
back against the rocks. “Oh, well. I’m sure I’ll have another opportunity soon
enough.”
There was both relief and unease in the cave. Bodies, both beast and
realmer, littered the area. Some chatted to each other while others maintained
defensive stances, prepared for another horde. All were unsure of what came
next but their attention focused quickly on the cliff when several dark-robed
figures appeared. Mephis clapped as he stood on the edge. “Well done to
those who remain.”
“What in the hells was that?” Furious shouts erupted from the crowd.
“Where did you go? Did you bring those beasts here?” Although there were
at least a couple of dozen or so angry magi who yelled toward the cliff and
some even seemed to prepare spells and weapons, most seemed indifferent or
curious.
“Would you pipe down?” Jett shouted and folded his large arms. “This is
the Oblivion Trials. What did you expect?”
“This was only a taste,” the familiar-looking warrior declared and
pounded a fist against his chest. “And I desire more.”
“So is that all this is then, you lilies?” Zed demanded and pointed his
dagger at Mephis. “Merely some monster hunting? I make my recruits go
through harsher steps to join my company.”
The daemoni looked at Karrie and another council member. She shrugged
and stepped forward, and when she waved her hands, the bodies in the caves
ignited in blue fire.
“I’m glad you are not yet discouraged—unlike some of you, it seems,”
Mephis noted as the other figure stepped beside him and held a hand out. The
signets that littered the floor rose and flew to him. He seemed to count them
and spoke quietly before they were teleported away. “So, fifty-seven all in
all? That leaves seventy-three.” Mephis nodded and dismissed the other
council member before he turned to address the trial participants again. “If
you’ve calmed enough, I would once again like to congratulate you on
making it through all the trials thus far.”
“All the trials?” Asla raised. “So it wasn’t only the one.” Murmurs
through the crowd seemed to indicate that others questioned this.
“Are you confused? What? Do you believe everything until now was
merely a simple journey?” The daemoni gave them a small sliver of a smile.
“I’m sure many of you have heard of bandit attacks and muggings in an
attempt to steal your signets. Some of you have run into odd beasts or
perhaps even evil magi or killers along the way. These may be nothing too
surprising given the occupations of some of you, but those events were
orchestrated by us as the beginnings of the trial. Those of you who reached
the caves through various means and routes were accosted by our personally
chosen killers and monsters to weed out the weak and curious.”
“Merri and Hem,” Jazai realized and looked at his friends. “That’s why
they weren’t surprised or bothered before. They were the ones who brought
them here.”
Devol’s fist clenched. “They allowed that? Are they demented?”
“Given that they are the overseers of the trials, I suppose a couple of them
have to be,” Asla replied and her ears flattened in melancholy.
“Now, before we proceed from here…” Mephis clapped sharply and blue
mana surged in his palms before he pointed them at the floor and a portal
appeared. After what had happened, many of those present prepared for
another fight, but nothing came through. The image in the portal seemed to
be nothing more than a random forest. The daemoni folded his hands behind
his back. “Would anyone here like to withdraw?”
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-F O U R

The council member’s offer surprised almost everyone in attendance. No one

rushed forward to accept the way out despite the annoyed shouts and threats
earlier. A few approached the portal, but it seemed that was mostly to
examine it and identify the destination.
“Take your time,” Mephis offered and focused on the magi near the
portal. “Within reason, of course. We still have the next and potentially final
part of the trial to get through.”
“Potentially final?” Zed repeated and scratched his chin with the flat side
of his blade. “You puffs don’t even have a schedule for this?”
“It has more to do with you and the rest of the participants,” the daemoni
replied and took a signet from his pocket. “It has to do with these but I cannot
explain their purpose until we move on.”
The man sheathed his blade and grunted. “All right, then. If any of you
lilies want to go home, get moving or I’ll kill you myself!”
While this drew a few responses like, “I’m sure,” and, “I’d like to see you
try,” it did seem to have some effect. A few of the magi either considered the
portal with more seriousness or pairs and teams began to talk amongst each
other about going through. Finally, one bowed his head and walked to the
gateway. Those who stood close to it moved out of the way and watched as
he stopped only a step away and stared into it. He took his signet out and
looked at Mephis. “Do you need this?”
The daemoni held a hand up. “Consider it a keepsake,”
The magi nodded and pocketed the signet, drew a deep breath, and
stepped through. After a moment, several more made their way to the portal,
and a couple of those who had previously examined it shrugged and walked
through.
“Are either of you considering it?” Jazai inquired as they watched several
of the participants leave voluntarily.
“Not a chance,” Devol responded and sat with Achroma across his lap.
“And especially not after we’ve come this far.”
“Agreed. Also…” The wildkin looked at Mephis. “I don’t trust that this is
as merciful as it seems.”
“Same,” Devol agreed.
The diviner nodded and folded his arms. “It’s good to see your sense is
still with you.”
After fifteen or so magi had wandered through, no others approached the
portal. “Do any more of you wish to depart?” Mephis asked. The silence was
his answer and he formed another wry smile. “Very well. You have made a
good choice.”
From inside the portal, they heard screams and shouts of surprise. Blood
splattered through it and the remaining participants stared suspiciously at it,
expecting another monster to emerge.
Instead, once it fell quiet again, another dark-robed figure emerged—a
human and one Jazai recognized. “Willard,” he recalled. “That assassin
Wulfsun told us about.”
“I had completely forgotten about him.” Asla gasped as the council
member sheathed a long dagger and held a hand up with shining objects
within. It took no special skill to know that these were the magi’s signets.
Mephis nodded to him and Willard walked away. The daemoni turned to
the remaining participants. “That leaves fifty-eight now. It’s not a terrible
number and it should make the next part much quicker.”
“So there was never a chance to leave here alive, huh?” Jett asked and
looked at his remaining men. “If we don’t win, we’re dead.”
“That is what we wish people to believe,” Mephis replied, held a hand
out, and closed it into a fist to make the portal shut. “The trials are not a
secret like they used to be years ago. It is not as much a bother as one would
think but we do wish to discourage thrill-seekers and the curious from
attending. As such, it has forced us to be more blunt in our approach.”
Devol looked at the blood on the floor where the portal had been. “And
final, it seems.”
“It makes me wonder what happened to those in the caves who couldn’t
make it here in time,” Jazai recalled with an ill feeling.
 “A high body count should keep the riffraff away, although it does not do
as much as we wish. But for every one participant who doesn’t return to their
guilds, families, and friends, word spreads. The populace should get a general
understanding one of these years.” Mephis took the signet out again. “Now
then, would you like to know what these are for?”
“Finally,” the diviner muttered, retrieved his, and examined it. “Let’s get
on with it.”
“The emblems and colors on your signets are unique to you and for your
next trial—potentially the final trial—you will need to collect more.” The
declaration immediately made the magi in the room look at one another.
Everyone understood how they were most likely to get those signets. “There
are four emblems—a crown, a star, a sword, and a rose—and there are four
colors—gold, silver, red, and blue.”
He tossed the signet over the edge of the cliff. “With fifty-eight
participants left, you’ll need to either collect five other signets or get hold of
your sister signet.” He held a hand up as a magi stepped forward. “What is
the sister signet, you were about to ask? It is the one that is aligned opposite
yours. A star is opposite a crown and a sword the opposite of a rose. Gold
opposes silver and red and blue do the same.”
Jazai looked at his signet. “So having a golden sword means I’m looking
for a silver rose.” He looked at the others. “Well, lucky break then.”
“I’m looking for a golden crown,” Asla said and hid her signet quickly in
the band of her vest. “What about you, Devol?”
“I need a red star,” he answered and looked away from his friends and
across the cave.
“Red star? Why does that sound—” Jazai paused and followed his
friend’s gaze to Koli, who looked back at them with a sly smirk. “Oh no.”
Asla glared at the assassin. “He doesn’t have to take Devol’s,” she
pointed out. “He can get four other signets instead and Devol can do the
same.”
“That is true and also sounds like something Koli would rather do.
There’s more carnage that way,” Jazai added. “We’ll have to make sure to be
on our guard and stick together.”
“The other signets from those who were not able to progress to this point
have been hidden throughout the area,” Mephis stated, “so there is more than
one way to win this bout. And you do not need to keep your personal signet.
You merely need five in total. However, your personal signet is the only way
to qualify with a sister signet, and do not try to play us. We are well aware of
who has what.” He twirled a finger in the air. “Also, there can be only eight
total victors.”
“I wonder how they decided on that number?” Jazai scoffed.
“So fifty will fall,” Devol stated as he pushed to his feet.
“Maybe more. He said eight total, meaning at most,” the scholar pointed
out.
“So then, shall we get started?” Jett declared and cracked his knuckles.
“We only need to claim those signets and everyone is here, so this is a good
old battle royale, then?”
The daemoni nodded and mana formed in his hand. “Indeed, but this is
not the battleground. This is once again your final destination,” he explained
and held his other hand up as another council member joined him. “You are
to return here by midnight with your sister signets or bounty collected. For
those who do not, I recommend you depart on your own for you will be
disqualified and I would prefer you spare us the work.”
“You want us to leave and then come back?” Zed asked and shook his
head. “What? Do we give each other a ten-minute head start?”
Mephis shook his head. “Not at all. You may begin immediately once you
arrive at your starting positions. The best of luck to you all.” He and the other
council member thrust their hands out and multiple portals appeared around
the cave. Devol heard shouts behind him and his two friends disappeared into
separate portals. He tried to catch Asla’s hand but was pulled upward and
dragged into a portal above him. From this higher vantage point, he could see
that every other participant was dragged into their separate portal. He entered
with a brief flash of light and landed on his knees on soft, wet earth.
Startled, he looked up, felt a mist on his face, and realized that he was in a
forest but couldn’t think why they would send him there. He stood and
looked into the distance. After a moment, he noticed a few buildings between
the trees and realized the forest was outside Reverie. It seemed the battlefield
for this trial was much more expansive than he’d thought.
“Rage!” The loud roar made him look behind him. The ax-wielding
warrior grew rapidly in size and held his weapon up as he approached two
other magi. Devol lifted Achroma and wondered if he should strike at him
while his back was turned when a whistling sound caught his attention. He
turned and held Achroma up so its flat side was in front of him and shielded
him against two arrows that had been loosed at him. His attacker was the
shrouded archer who accompanied Zed. The potentially final part of the trial
had begun.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-F I V E

The archer nocked another arrow and two more formed out of mana. They
streaked directly toward him and Devol swung his sword to knock them all
away, including the mana arrows. This seemed to surprise his assailant, who
darted around the trees and continued to loose mana arrows at him, which he
either dodged or blocked as he pursued him.
He charged Achroma with mana and struck out to release a wave of
energy that sliced through two tree trunks, toppled them, and forced his
opponent to leap frantically over them to avoid the mana-infused blade.
The young swordsman vaulted high to attack from the air. The archer
nocked another arrow—this one black—drew, and fired. It whistled over the
boy’s shoulder and when he glanced back, it spun and flipped before it traced
its earlier path and targeted him from the opposite direction.
A hasty glance at his adversary confirmed him loading three mana arrows
and firing. Devol drew his blink dagger, tossed it at one of the trees, and
warped quickly to the branch it dug into. He pried it out while the archer
caught the rebounding arrow in his hand before he landed on a nearby tree
branch, loaded the projectile again, and fired.
In retaliation, the boy delivered a mana slash that sliced through the arrow
and redirected it at the archer. The man yanked a dagger from his belt and
jumped out of the way, threw the dagger to a different tree, and blinked to it.
It seemed Devol wasn’t the only one with a blink dagger, and he now
understood how annoying it was to fight someone with one.
The archer retrieved two red arrows and when he placed them against the
bow, the pointed tips burst into flame. He did not give him a chance to fire
this time but launched off his branch and thrust Achroma into the trunk of the
tree the man stood on. He flooded his sword with mana as he had done with
the golem and forced it into the bark to unleash a ripple of mana into the tree
that caused it to erupt.
The swordsman twisted as his adversary bounded from the tree and tossed
his blink dagger toward a patch of ground. He did the same and they
teleported to the same place. He tried to grab him but was only able to
manage to grasp a piece of their head covering, which he pulled to drag it
free.
A female dryad with a pinkish hue to her skin and short-cropped white
hair stared at him, slightly annoyed but without anger or surprise in her eyes.
As he studied her briefly, he wondered why he had simply assumed she was
male, especially since his first brief glimpse of her had suggested a female.
She still held the flaming arrows, which she tossed at the ground. Once
they struck the earth, flames erupted from them and consumed the area.
Devol jumped back and cast his coat off. For a moment, he was startled and
could almost swear he saw the visage of the demon mask in the growing
blaze. Frustrated, he shook this off hastily. Now was not the time to be
haunted by him.
The archer had disappeared and he looked to where the warrior still
battled the two magi he had set upon when they first arrived. One had a deep
wound across his chest and the raging warrior now held a second ax, this one
made of wood.
A flash behind him made the boy turn reflexively. He frowned in surprise
at a sword of light that floated behind him and had blocked an arrow aimed at
his neck. When he looked up, his searching gaze settled on the dryad
crouched in a tree above him. He pointed his blade at her and the light sword
followed the direction. It sliced through the branches and pursued her as she
bounded from tree to tree. He ran to a tree ahead of her and vaulted up it,
ready to cut her off.
She had either anticipated this or was good at thinking on her feet. When
Devol turned toward her, she vanished, and when he searched for, her the
sword of light pointed toward the earth. He looked down and realized
immediately that she had ported to her dagger and had loaded another flame
arrow.
When she fired, the sword of light moved to intercept and knocked it
upward, where it exploded above the trees and sent small balls of fire raining
into the forest to set some of the trees ablaze. The light sword then streaked
toward her, but she flipped nimbly and it lodged into the soil as she drew her
bowstring back and several mana arrows formed. Calmly, she fired at Devol.
He dropped from the branch he had stood on and slid along the tree trunk
as the mana arrows approached and leapt off before they stuck. The dryad
began to fire at him in rapid succession. He called the sword of light to him
and used both it and Achroma to deflect the projectiles as he marched closer
to her.
Undeterred, she moved her hand to the underside of her quiver and
withdrew a pure white arrow. She nocked and fired it along with three mana
arrows. The young swordsman did not know what that white arrow did but he
didn’t want to risk it getting close enough to knock away. He threw the sword
of light at it and when they collided, the projectile burst apart and released a
large orb of light that unleashed a massive wave of force and sound that
hurled him into one of the trees. His instincts screamed a warning and he
scrambled to his feet and rubbed his head. The mana arrows continued
toward him and his hearing was deafened and sight blurred.
Devol defended against the arrows and blocked them with Achroma, but
he couldn’t determine the location of the archer. With his vision and hearing
compromised, he tried to use Vello to feel for her anima but she was
shrouding it. The blade’s bright light began to envelop him and a warmth
washed over his body. A moment later, his vision cleared and his hearing
returned to normal.
All he could hear now, though, was a pained cry from one of the other
magi. He turned slightly and caught a reflection in the blade. The archer
stood behind him with an arrow ready. He ducked as she fired and swung his
blade up, which she defended against with her bow and the two weapons
clashed. The bow, surprisingly, did not give against his majestic, which
meant that it had to at least be an exotic. That would explain how she could
fire so many mana arrows without exhausting her mana quickly.
They broke their clash off after a moment. The boy thrust another mana
slash at her. She jumped over it easily and the attack swept past her and cut
through shrubbery and the sides of trees before it streaked toward the raging
warrior across the forest. The man turned and saw the attack approaching,
raised his ax, and slashed through the wave.
“Wait your turn!” he shouted before he lobbed the wooden ax at Devol.
He crushed it with a swing of Achroma and pieces scattered around the area.
On impulse, he picked one of these up and noticed how sharp it was—
certainly as sharp as any blade he had wielded before. He put the piece in his
pocket and turned to locate the archer with her bow ready to fire, but she
aimed skyward and the mana arrow she had prepared was considerably larger
than normal.
She fired and his gaze traced the arrow’s path until it erupted and a hail of
bolts descended on him. He raised Achroma and a barrier formed around him
to block the volley. The barrier disappeared as soon as it was safe to do so
and the light formed inside Achroma. He pointed it toward the archer before
he cast it forward and the blade extended rapidly.
The dryad dodged the attack but not completely this time. It sliced
through her right arm and she uttered a surprised cry. She retrieved another
white arrow and tried to load it, but her wound was too grave for her to
muster the strength. Green mana enveloped her hand and then the arrow,
which she pointed at the boy. It launched toward him but he was prepared
this time and threw his blink dagger as far as he could and teleported to it
before the arrow landed with another blinding and deafening explosion.
He tossed the dagger quickly to his original position and warped back. As
he looked for his adversary, he realized he could feel her mana this time,
which told him she had difficulty concentrating enough to suppress it while
she was distracted by her wound. He located her hiding inside the canopy of a
tree and noticed that she appeared to be healing her arm.
Devol ran to the tree, struck it with Achroma, and fed it with enough
mana that it erupted and forced her down. Even in the small amount of time
she’d had, she appeared to have healed her wound enough to use the limb and
had even managed to tie a makeshift bandage around it with a piece of her
head covering.
The two stared at one another. He readied himself to strike her down as
he could see no other way to end this fight. She reached back for another
arrow but both stilled when they heard something above them that sounded
like it was falling toward them. They leapt back as the warrior landed heavily
nearby, holding the body of one of the magi he had fought.
“You’re next!” he declared and flung the corpse aside. The veins
throbbed through his skin and his steps left small craters as he stormed
toward them. “Give me your signets or you die!”
Devol and the archer took a moment to look at each other. He nodded to
her and she repeated the gesture and they prepared to face the berserker
together. The man roared in response as he held his ax up and swung it
violently onto the earth. A line of axes pushed through the surface ground
and headed directly toward them.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y- S I X

Devol and the dryad leapt out of the way of the stream of axes. He landed and
spun immediately to engage the warrior. Their weapons clashed and he
staggered beneath the sheer might of the swing. He parried the blow and
attempted to strike one of his adversary’s engorged legs. The man responded
by kicking the blade to knock it to the side and attempted to batter the boy’s
head with his fist.
To evade the blows, the swordsman fell back before he cast another mana
slash at his huge opponent, who used his ax to redirect it skyward. This
confirmed that his weapon was an exotic, although it came as no surprise.
The slice cut through several branches and the warrior snagged a larger one
out of the air and transformed it into another wooden ax.
From what he had seen of it so far, Devol assumed the exotic must allow
him to remake anything he touched in its image. It was clever but besides
creating the easily avoided line of axes in the earth, it only seemed to allow
him to travel lighter without the need to carry two weapons.
Arrows streaked from above and several mana projectiles struck the
warrior in the chest but immediately bounced off. His rage spell probably
gave him some kind of magic resistance or defense that might be an issue for
her—or the boy thought as much, at least. Another arrow flew, this one red.
The large man tossed his wooden weapon at it and when they collided, the ax
erupted in flames and the fire traveled to the ground to light the area up. This
would make it hard for Devol to maneuver but even harder for the berserker,
whose already large frame was even more enlarged by his spell.
The warrior clenched his teeth but formed a smile. He held a hand out to
a flame growing beside him and it began to take the shape of an ax in his
hand. His hand glowed with his orange mana and he took hold of the flame
weapon’s grip and swung it to get a feel for it before he looked at the boy
with his manic grin.
Before the huge man could enact his intended attack, the young magi
unleashed two more mana slashes but the warrior thwacked them to the side
with his exotic before he roared and charged. The archer landed next to Devol
and fired an enlarged mana arrow. Their adversary struck it with his ax but
the power of the shot slowed his advance and gave the swordsman a chance
to attack.
He lifted his sword, enlarged the blade, and arced it forward. The warrior
recovered in time to knock it upward but the magical blade still sliced
through his chest plate and shirt. Unfortunately, it only grazed his chest as
there was no evidence of blood.
The berserker seemed more angered than bothered by this and he lobbed
the fire ax at them in retaliation. While the archer retreated into the trees, the
boy dove under it and grimaced at the heat of the flames as it passed over
him. It made impact with a trunk several yards away and burst apart to ignite
more flames in the forest around them. Devol began to feel déjà vu as the
inferno continued to grow.
Perhaps in an attempt to intimidate them, the warrior ripped his armor off
to reveal his enlarged chest and the veins that throbbed along his arm and
pecs. His jaw was still set and his teeth clenched, and he marched
determinedly toward the young magi, who scrambled hastily to his feet and
began to retreat through the flames.
Devol didn’t understand how this maniac was able to sustain his rage
spell for so long. He knew the basics of it as many warrior magi made use of
it, but it was a double-edged sword. It increased one’s strength and
endurance, and could apparently give one resistance to magic, which was a
new revelation. But it only lasted for a brief time and could exhaust the user
if overused. He never knew how incredibly psychotic it made one after
extended use, but he realized he should have guessed that from the name.
The archer took a position in a tree in front of him, selected two
exploding arrows, and aimed them at the warrior, who had proceeded to
rampage through the forest and seemingly ignored the inferno around him in
an attempt to catch his victim. As soon as the boy passed her, she fired them
directly at their adversary. They struck his chest and detonated two large
explosions. Devol turned and narrowed his eyes at the smoke kicked up while
he waited to see if they had any effect.
They had indeed. When the smoke cleared, he saw a new level of pissed-
off he had yet to encounter in another person. In his other hand, the berserker
now held a black ax with red and orange markings. The swordsman paled
slightly as a thought occurred to him and he focused on the smoke that faded
around the huge form. “Don’t tell me he made an ax out of the—”
With a below of fury, the giant pounded the earth with the new weapon
and triggered a large explosion that toppled the tree the archer now sat in. She
jumped off but a branch snagged her jacket and held her back. The dryad
grasped her blink dagger and tossed it but it landed probably closer to the
warrior than she would have liked.
When she appeared, a giant boot hovered above her head. She rolled out
of the way, unable to snag her dagger which was crushed under his heel. The
man swung the explosive ax through three trunks next to him and all burst on
impact, scattered sharp debris around the area, and toppled the trees. She was
able to find a narrow passage between the falling wooden pillars and bounded
through it, then used one to launch farther away as she loaded another arrow.
Devol moved quickly to her side to stop her.
“Let’s try to not give him any new toys,” he recommended as the warrior
rolled his shoulders, turned to look at them, and settled a speculative gaze on
one of the fallen trees.
“Do you have any other plans?” she asked and spoke for the first time in
an irate yet soft voice.
He honestly couldn’t think of one and was still perplexed by the situation
as a whole. Their adversary gave them no time to think of anything as he
began to lift one of the trees. Both prepared to flee, but when the man’s head
swiveled, Devol noticed dark-blue liquid dripping from under his helm. He
pointed it out to the archer. “Do you know of anything that makes one sweat
that color?”
She studied it for a moment and a small smile formed on her lips as she
selected another explosive arrow and notched it. “Keep him distracted for a
moment while I find a weak point,” she ordered before she darted through the
flames and into the woods.
The instruction was possibly easy enough to accomplish, but a large
shadow loomed over the swordsman and he scowled at the warrior, who
brandished one of the large trees before he immediately swung it down
toward him.
 Devol jumped to the side and the tree thumped powerfully onto the earth
beside him. He grimaced and bounded on top as his opponent picked it up
again and he used the motion to launch toward the huge figure. With a yell of
defiance, he lifted Achroma above his head and arced it in a downward blow
and immediately strengthened his anima as the warrior moved to defend
against it with the explosive ax in his other hand.
When it detonated, the boy almost lost his hold on the sword as he
rocketed back and into another tree with incredible force. His anima protected
him from any broken bones, but the pain certainly felt like he had been
exploded and hammered into a tree. He looked up hastily. The warrior was
recovering but the explosive ax was gone. At least that was something.
The young swordsman forced himself to stand and he noticed that his
blink dagger had been dislodged and lay a few yards away. He considered
warping to it but realized that would only put him closer to the lunatic. With
a small sigh, he decided against it for now and simply held Achroma up as
pain surged through his back and legs. The archer had said she only needed a
moment. He wondered how long that was to her.
Before he could even feel irritation at the perceived delay, an arrow
streaked from the trees above, lodged itself into the top of the warrior’s helm,
and exploded. He roared in fury and staggered back as pieces of metal fell
from his head. Then, almost instantly, he released his exotic and landed hard
on his back. His body returned to normal and even seemed to wither to some
extent. He flinched once or twice but moved no more.
Devol dragged a breath in and hobbled to his body to see if he still lived.
He was still breathing, so it would at least appear so for now, but with this
fire raging around them, he could be lost in it if he didn’t recover soon.
The boy examined his face. Now that it was exposed, he was certainly
familiar even in this pale condition, but it wasn’t someone he knew well.
Finally, a memory crystallized as he studied the ax and unkempt armor. This
was the drunk from Rouxwoods. He almost smacked his head in realization
and had to concede that the man hadn’t simply talked nonsense back there.
Without a doubt, he could indeed fight, albeit with some rather blunt
tactics. He picked a piece of the helm up. Sponges had been sown inside the
lining and dripped the dark-blue liquid he had seen earlier. He touched it
tentatively and winced at how cold it was—incredibly so, which was rather
refreshing in the growing heat. It must have been a counter to the effects of
the rage spell.
 When the archer landed behind him with a soft thud, he tossed the piece
of helm away and turned to thank her for her assistance but stopped and
focused on the arrow aimed at him. He still held Achroma but was not in a
position to deflect the projectile should she fire it. Despite this, he looked
calmly at her. “I guess I should have expected this but either way, you won’t
hit me.”
She pulled the drawstring back a little more. “I won’t miss at this range.”
“Yes, you will,” he responded and tightened his hand on his weapon,
although he made no effort to lift it yet. “You can walk away now and
continue the tri—” He didn’t finish as she loosed her arrow and he simply
disappeared from her sight.
The dryad spun but encountered the flat side of Achroma as Devol
delivered a powerful swing into her head. She twisted from the impact and
fell. He stood over her and held his recovered blink dagger before he sighed
and sheathed it, then used Achroma to cut her bow in two and destroy the
warrior’s ax.
He looked at the inferno and their unconscious forms. They could
possibly die in there, from the smoke if not the flames. He wondered if he
had the time to pull them out when Achroma brightened and a field of light
expanded around them that pushed the flames away and extinguished them
quickly to leave a drifting rain of ash in the forest.
The swordsman felt lighter than before, weary but relieved. He had
expended considerable mana thus far and it had begun to take a toll. Asla
would probably scold him for the waste.
Wait—Asla and Jazai!
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y- S E V E N

Unlike her friend Devol, the wildkin did not materialize in the middle of a
melee or even paired off against another trialist. She was quite alone and in
the dark. When she emerged from being teleported, she stood in a dark
cavern. This one showed no signs of having been worked on in the past. She
would have been surprised to know that any living soul other than a beast or
insect ever set foot in here.
Asla had spent the first part of this event simply walking through the
cavern. Her feline eyes allowed her some increased vision in the darkened
domain, but it was little better than any normal human’s eyes as there was no
light to assist. Her pace was slow and she almost had to crawl to get through
some of the smaller crevasses. Not only that, she had to make sure there were
no ledges or precipices she could accidentally fall into.
Eventually, after an extended time of careful meandering, she picked up
no scents and heard no noises other than a slow drip of liquid, the thud of
rocks under her feet, and maybe the occasional cricket skittering along the
walls. She focused on her senses and muttered, “Empower.” The simple
cantrip allowed her to slightly increase her natural abilities even beyond what
she could muster through Vis. But instead of focusing on speed or might, she
focused on her hearing, sight, and smell. Still, nothing stood out as she
pressed on.
She finally found a small opening and several meters above this was an
exit. Although it seemed to lead to another dark cavern, it was still progress.
She felt the wall to make sure it was solid and vaulted to the potential escape
but encountered only more darkness as she had expected.
A moment later, however, she discerned something barely audible even to
her. It was deep within and she could not determine if was a human voice or
an animal. It was a sign of life, either way, and she pushed on into the new
passage.
As she continued, the sound grew louder and echoed in the caves. She
could now deduce that it was indeed human or at least humanoid, and it was
the sound of crying. At first, she thought it was another trial participant,
maybe one who was lost or had fallen into this bleak ravine and injured
themselves.
But this was not crying from pain or frustration but from anguish and
despair. It worried her, a feeling she recalled and tried to move away from.
When she turned a corner, a small cat wildkin child huddled next to a
dying torch. It simply made no sense that she would be there. Asla hurried
forward and knelt beside her. “What are you doing here, young one?” she
asked as she placed her hands gently around the girl’s slender shoulders.
“How did you get down here? Are you lost?”
The child did not answer her right away but continued to sob for a few
moments longer before she pointed down the long corridor. “Is something
over there?” the wildkin magi asked and the girl’s shoulders trembled. “Did
something scare you?”
In reply, she shook her head and in a surprisingly swift motion, pushed to
her feet and dashed in the direction Asla had come from and into the
darkness.
Both concerned and confused, the magi stood quickly and hurried in
pursuit as she yelled for the little wildkin to wait. When she turned the
corner, however, the girl had disappeared. Behind her, more voices called to
one another or shouted in fear and rage.
She retraced her steps to retrieve the torch, worried about the child
because the voices made her realize something violent was happening deeper
in. Her speed increased now that she moved ahead with the aid of the torch’s
light.
As she rounded the next corner, she had to duck to avoid a male deer
wildkin who careened into the wall before he slid down with a stab wound in
his gut. Asla turned quickly to check his wound and when she looked at his
face, she realized the life had already left his eyes.
Several more wildkin bodies were strewn around her, all dead, and she
turned her attention to two who remained alive. A hound and a bear fought
several figures hidden in the dark but both were struck down before she could
even push to her feet to join them.
“Must you be so rough? You could have damaged the supplies!” one of
the figures protested in the back.
“Oh, they are certainly damaged.” Another chuckled darkly. “But nothing
beyond repair. Isn’t that the whole point?”
The words were familiar to her and the voices as well, but she couldn’t
place them. “Are you saying you can’t raise them because they aren’t in mint
condition?”
“Spilling out most of the contents doesn’t help matters either way.” The
former speaker growled in annoyance. “I’ve only been able to work with the
basics, but having a new batch of—well, hello there.” The dark figures turned
toward her. Even with the light of the torch, she could not make their features
out but she could sense their fiendish gazes on her. “What do we have here?
It looks like we missed one.”
“A cat wildkin? And female as well,” another commented. “Do you need
her professor? They fetch a high price on the markets for those who want
exotic pets.”
Asla bared her fangs and held her claws up but she could not summon her
anima, try as she might. Her mana flowed but it would not form around her.
When she looked at her gauntlets, she realized that the stones did not
shimmer. The figures began to advance.
“Oh, this one is a fighter too, it seems,” one remarked smugly. “I would
have you know, little one, they were all fighters too,” he said and gestured to
the bodies on the floor.
“Quiet!” the professor snapped and stepped forward. Although his visage
was hidden under a hood, she was able to see gray skin and a sickly, crooked
smile. “There is no need to scare the poor thing. Perhaps we can resolve this
peacefully. I have an offer for you.” He placed a hand over his heart. “If you
come with us, little one, I will promise to treat you well.”
When he extended his other hand, Asla hissed at him and lashed out but
his only response was to chuckle. “There is no need to be afraid. I am very
gentle with the young and I’ll give you special treatment. I'll only drug you
when necessary and not subject you to the more invasive operations. You will
eat with your mouth and I will make sure you have clothes to sleep in.”
“Are you getting soft professor?” one of the men chided mockingly.
“You brutes have no idea what it means to show kindness,” the professor
snapped over his shoulder and turned to her again. “What do you say, little
calico?”
That phrase and the way he said it—purringly as if to mock her— brought
back a memory. She had indeed heard these words before on the day when
her family was taken from her. They were words that had haunted her for so
long even though she tried to forget. She began to tremble and walk back, but
they continued to follow her.
“You won’t fight us, hmm?” the professor asked. “You are going to run?
To hide? Like you did before?”
She had fled back then, panicked and crying, but would not do so again.
That was why she had been training—to make sure she never had to again.
She dropped the torch and held her claws out. Mana be damned, she intended
to fight. Her heart felt like it might burst as it pounded against her chest in
time to her rapid breathing. She might give out merely from the intensity of
the physical response, but she would fight. When she looked at these figures,
rage surged but also fear, almost like when they came across the miner in the
cavern. The thought triggered something that pushed through into her
consciousness.
Asla lowered her hands slowly as the figures drew closer. She closed her
eyes, drew a deep breath, and focused on her mana to use it to soothe her
body as she cleared her mind and let her empower cantrip dispel. She felt a
rush through her body as her anima returned and it burst out before it formed
around her. When she opened her eyes again, they were gone. The bodies, the
dark figures, and even the torch had all gone.
The wildkin exhaled slowly, shook her head, and dabbed her wet eyes.
When she looked up, she caught a glimmer in the dark and approached it
cautiously. A mass swirled inside the red stone and she backed away and
continued down the passage. She had not noticed any crimson ore before now
and wondered if using empower made her more susceptible. With a shudder,
she clutched her cloak tighter. Honestly, she preferred the crazed miner. Why
of all the things it could show her did it bring that back? She had not thought
of it in so long.
She discerned another noise and after listening for a moment, she
identified it as water dripping into a pool. Something was ahead. After her
ordeal, she was hesitant but it was something to pursue and she wanted to be
anywhere away from there.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-E I G HT

Run, you idiot! You should have hit him. How can he be so fast? He’s gaining
but he can’t hit me. It’s too dark to aim.
“And that makes the third,” Jazai muttered. He was currently seated
behind a column of rock. When he was yanked out of the starting cavern with
all the others, he appeared in a slightly smaller cavern with four other magi.
One of those was none other than Yule, the former Black Sun assassin who
now worked solo. He must like his personal space because he wasted no time
killing one of the magi before the man even registered his presence.
If the truth be told, the young diviner was still so surprised by the sudden
teleportation that if Yule had set his sights on him, he was almost positive he
could have killed him before he had a chance to defend himself. For a
moment, it had looked like he would be the second one to fall as the man had
reloaded his crossbow quickly and aimed it directly at him.
The two other magi had joined forces against him, however, and the boy
used the opportunity to gain some distance. He was still able to blink very
short distances of about five to ten meters, which weren’t even worth the
effort. Vis wasn’t his strong suit, but even at a lesser level compared to Asla
and Devol, he could currently run faster than he could blink.
He had spent this time trying to determine where he was and where
everyone else had landed, but he’d had little luck. His majestic barely picked
up the thoughts of the other nearby magi. The two were able to hold their
own against Yule for a while, but once one of them fell, the second raced
away in a panic. Jazai had hoped he had run in the opposite direction, which
would make it too much of an effort for the assassin to double back and look
for him. Unfortunately, it appeared he had no such luck.
 The final one must be nearby. He has the ability to blink, but not very far.
Either he’s crippled or not very skilled but I must assume the former if he was
able to get this far.
Yule’s thought jotted across the page, brisk and forthright. The diviner
would almost call him dull but a more charitable and accurate person would
probably say this was the mind of a focused person. He might have agreed if
that focus wasn’t on him.
Jazai straightened, closed his eyes, and felt for the hunter. He had to be
very cautious to not put out enough mana for the assassin to detect him as
well. The scholar probably should have used this opportunity to lay low or
continue retreating and he would have if not for a tidbit of information he
gleaned when he first started reading their thoughts.
Yule had his sister signet—the silver rose—which meant he could
potentially get this over and done with if he was able to take it from the older
magi. Now that he had a demonstration of his abilities, however, that had
become a less appealing decision. He finally felt a faint hint of another mana
that moved back in the cavern he had been teleported to and headed west, but
it suddenly stopped and looked in his direction.
That was surely a coincidence, right? There was no way he could have
been able to deduce his location by such a slight connection. But then he
recalled who he was dealing with and that he might have not been the only
one of the two of them looking for other mana. Dammit.
Well, now it was time to make an actual choice. Should he stay and fight,
knowing the hunter would come to him—which gave him something of an
advantage, at least—or did he try to run? Both options had their drawbacks.
The first one was obvious and without his ability to teleport, he probably
couldn’t outpace the assassin, so he would have to hope to hide from him.
The thought of himself cowering in some dark corner almost made bile rise to
his throat.
“You are smart but so damn prideful as well,” Zier had told him. The boy
recalled their discussion before he set off with his friends. “I’m sure it is no
surprise that it gets on my nerves.”
He’d nodded quickly. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“Quiet, Jazaiah. I’m trying to be sentimental.”
That had caused an eye-roll from the apprentice. “You’re new to it, aren’t
you?”
The dryad had looked like he wanted to return the gesture but held
himself in check. “It is admittedly not something I excel at, yes.”
Jazai would have given sarcastic approval to his mentor for his admission
if said admission didn’t honestly surprise him. “Well, at least…you’re trying,
I suppose.”
“And there’s no need to patronize me either,” the elder scholar replied
and took a small sip of water from a wine glass he had waiting on the table
next to him. “The point I was trying to make is that I wondered if it was
simple rebellion or merely your nature. It quickly became clear over the
months that it was nature and it didn’t ease my mind to come to that
conclusion. Rebellion eventually fades but you cannot simply change your
nature—not typically without breaking.”
The apprentice had shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Should I expect
you to have a whip once I get back?”
Zier smirked. “That would probably be a funny moment but this is not
about your future studies. It’s about what I see in you having taught you all
this time and something I want you to know before you set off.”
“And that is?”
“That you are…that is…” The dryad pressed his lips together and gave it
some thought. “I did not accept your father’s request simply out of duty and
friendship, Jazaiah. I’ve known you since you were born. I was the fourth
person to hold you as an infant, in fact. And even from those early days, I
could tell there was so much potential in you to be great.
“Some things fade in time. You used to be as cute as a toddler could be,
but that potential never left. The reason I have continued to train you and deal
with your nonsense in various forms is because of that. I know that despite all
your bluster and the fact that you seem as aware of the potential greatness in
you as I am, there is this.”
His mentor had leaned in close and locked gazes with him. “Because,
unlike many others who believe greatness awaits them and wait until that day
comes, you never have. I know you’ve studied behind my back and kept your
training up even on your days off.”
“I’m…sorry?” Jazai had mumbled while he tried to decide where this was
headed.
“That wasn’t what I was looking for but remember those words when you
knock over another bookshelf,” Zier replied and leaned back. “In simpler
terms, Jazai, you may talk big like many a failed magi but the difference is
you can back it up, in both the study and the field. As long as that continues
to drive you, the promised potential will eventually blossom into something
more.”
Jazai shut his tome and put it in his backpack with a small smirk. It had
been a weird day if Zier of all people motivated him. He took a moment to
think of his options and decided he couldn’t take Yule on in a simple one-on-
one combat scenario. Even with his newfound courage, he was under no
delusions that he could win against him in his field of expertise. That meant
he would have to use his.
It had been a while but he was a diviner and as Zier said, he had kept his
studies up.

As Yule entered the large passage where he had felt the errant mana, he
found only a few torches lit. The young magi who had fled the battle early on
stood toward the end of the passage. The assassin raised his crossbow and
shook his head. The smart move would have been to put more distance
between them but it looked like he was ready to fight. Besides, he could see
clearly through his little tricks.
“I’ll only give you this option once, boy. Drop your signet and leave. Try
again next year.” He placed his finger on the trigger. “I won’t be here.”
His adversary took a few steps forward and held his ringed finger up. “Go
ahead and give it a try,” he challenged. “You might hit me but I’ll fire off a
pulse cantrip and cave this entire passage in.”
“So, you are trying to force a stalemate?” the assassin asked and took a
few steps forward. “You’re bold but there is a problem with that.” He pulled
the trigger and three arrows fired and passed straight through the magi’s
chest. In an instant, he disappeared.
“You are right about that,” the boy retorted from behind and Yule was
suddenly bound in mana chains and forced to his knees. The diviner felt in
his pocket and withdrew his silver rose signet. “For one, that was an illusion
with no power, so it would have been very anticlimactic.”
“Agreed.” The hunter looked at the boy. He wore a wide-brimmed black
hat and a black satin wrap around his mouth and nose that obscured the
bottom half of his face, but his eyes seemed disappointed. “This is also a very
sad end.”
 Before Jazai had a chance to question what he meant, the three arrows
had returned and two punctured his ribs while the third struck his throat.
Blood erupted from his wounds and he collapsed, his eyes still wide in shock
and pain before he drew in a few ragged breaths and his life left him, his
mana along with it.
The chains binding Yule released quickly. The hunter picked his
crossbow up and checked it for scuffs before he holstered it on his back. He
sighed as he checked the boy’s pulse and found nothing. The third arrow had
struck the carotid artery. Perhaps a master healer could do something about
that, but not this young magi who seemed to bite off more than he could
chew.
“Yule, are you done?” He looked at Tobi who approached cautiously.
“Did you catch him?”
“Take a look.” The assassin gestured to the body. “He thought he could
be tricky. It’s kind of sad that a simple fake-out was the best he could offer.”
“So three down at once, huh?” Tobi whistled approvingly and rested his
hands on his waist. “Nice work. You didn’t even give me a chance to get one
of my own.”
“You have time and I’ll let you have this one,” he offered and indicated
the corpse.
Tobi faltered, a little taken aback. “Really? That’s generous of you.”
The hunter nodded and waved him off. “Don’t worry about it but make
sure to grab my signet and catch up. There are more out there,”
“That’s why I came back. I picked up a couple of mana emissions deeper
in the cave. They are a fair way out but we can probably cut them off if we
head to the chamber and take the passage north,” the man explained and
pointed behind them.
Yule nodded. “Nice work. I’m glad I brought you along. Now, let’s
hurry.” He ran off and his speed brought him back to the chamber and up the
northern passage in seconds. Not many could keep up with him, but Tobi
always could even if his skills as an assassin weren’t the best out there. Still,
he had seen something in him when they had met way back when. He was
convinced of that.
Who in the hells is Tobi?
Yule skidded to a halt and peered down the passage, suddenly confused
as to why was he heading this way again. He recalled something about mana
readings but he felt nothing. Tobi had said—wait, he hadn’t brought anyone
with him. He worked alone now and even in the Black Suns, he hadn’t
known anyone named Tobi.
He turned and raced to the passage when he’d felled the young magi, only
to find the body gone, the arrows on the floor, and no blood. He felt a mild
headache coming on and with that, he realized that the boy had indeed tricked
him.
The weak illusion had disguised a memory alteration. The bastard was a
diviner.
 C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-N I N E

Koli was alone—amused, certainly, but alone. He had been deposited in the
cavern with the remains of the golems he had dealt with for the sake of his
temporary allies. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting lost, although
maybe he would avoid the little detour with the crimson ore. That was not his
particular brand of fun. He hopped up and down for a few moments and
shook his hands. He was all prepared for a nice fight but to his
disappointment, no one appeared.
As he considered which direction to choose first to find someone to
entertain him, it had turned out he was not quite so alone. He heard a sword
unsheathe and turned as a warrior magi approached. This was the bald one
from before—someone he had thought he knew but now that he had a closer
look, it appeared he was wrong.
“So the Council was kind enough to give me a playmate, it seems,” he all
but purred and focused on the warrior. “How do you do, good sir? My name
is—”
“Chicot Pierro.” The newcomer scowled and held his claymore up. “I will
never forget that name.”
“Chicot?” Koli paused to think about it. “I think you may have me
confused for—oh, yes!” He snapped his fingers. “That’s one of my old
aliases, isn’t it? I haven’t used it in quite some time,”
“Change your name or change your face, I will always find you,” the
warrior continued and pointed his blade at him. “I swore to avenge my count
and there is no way to hide from me!”
“Your count?” the assassin asked and stroked his chin. “I’m afraid you
will have to be more specific, my friend. I’ve killed a number of counts. To
be honest, they are much easier than lords or kings.”
The man drove his blade into the ground and pointed to the assassin’s
eye. “You can never forget him. You wear his eye.”
Koli ran a hand over his eyepatch and a wry smile crossed his lips. “Ah, I
see. Count Kanis, the appropriately titled ‘Mad Count.’ I do indeed remember
that day. It was a very important one for me you see and—wait a moment. I
thought I killed him and his entourage?”
“I was the only one to survive.” The warrior’s face hardened as his fists
clenched. “You would have killed me as well if not for a passing healer. You
slaughtered my count and all my brethren that day.” He moved his hand and
produced a necklace with a white beast with a glowing purple blot
shimmering on the skin. “This was able to capture a remnant of your mana. It
shook as soon as you entered the cavern at the start of these trials but I
couldn’t be sure until I saw you kill that beast using the eye. You may have
changed your appearance but I know it is you, murderer.”
“Assassin, please, and it is indeed so.” Despite his amused response, Koli
frowned. “So you survived. I try not to make that a habit. I wonder if I should
be honored to have an avenger after me.” Behind the assassin, the real
warrior snuck up on him. “You know, you are usually the galivanting type
but it seems you’ve gone a different route. And I have to say, I wish you were
like the rest. That would have been more entertaining.”
The attacker lifted his blade and swung it powerfully in an attempt to
bisect him in one stroke. His target, however, raised a hand and to his
adversary's stunned surprise, caught the blade in mid-strike.
“You aren’t that great at illusions, you know,” the assassin muttered,
squeezed with his bare hand, and crushed the blade easily before he spun and
kicked the warrior in the stomach. The man catapulted several feet away.
He scrambled to his feet and pounded his palms together. “Bastard!”
Koli pointed to the fading illusion. “You shouldn’t have made it drive the
blade into the ground. It left no indention nor kicked up any debris. Honestly,
you’ve been plotting revenge for all these years and you couldn’t have been
more thorough?”
“Shut your mouth.” His adversary hissed in fury and his firsts shook. “A
swift death would have been a mercy. It’s better to take my time crushing
you!”
“That’s one way of trying to spin this, certainly,” the assassin responded
flatly and folded his arms. “So what is the new plan then, mighty avenger?”
 The warrior puffed his chest out and shouted. “Giant!” His form enlarged
to over ten feet. “Stoneskin!” he added and the earth at his feet crawled up his
body and armor and fused to it.
“There we go,” Koli said cheerfully and a small smile returned. “This
does seem a more fitting plan of attack for someone of your ability.”
Rather than respond, the man snapped two stalagmites off and hurled
them at him. He simply leapt upward, touched down on one, and pushed off
to land a few feet to the giant’s left side. His frown had returned. “No, this
was indeed nothing more than the action of a desperate man,” he muttered
and moved his hand to his eyepatch. “How disappointing.”
The warrior hollered and began to charge toward him but was halted after
only two steps when his body began to shake and his giant form was forced a
few feet into the air. He struggled against the field that ensnared him but
could only stare in horror as his enlarged fingers began to twist and then
snap, and his toes soon followed.
Enraged and afraid, he continued to fight and roared in anger more than
pain, but that came soon enough when both his arms and legs turned
completely around on themselves and the snapping of bones reverberated
through the hall. The warrior uttered a seething but defeated cry as his giant
spell faded and he returned to normal size. As he shrank, the earth around his
body broke apart and fell before Koli released him and he landed heavily
with only a meager grunt.
The assassin chuckled and clasped his hands behind his back as he
observed the defeated man with both his normal eye and the malefic. “You
seemed so fond of your count. It’s only fitting you fall to his secret weapon,
isn’t it?”
His adversary was able to look up enough to show that he still had hatred
in his eyes. He spat at the feet of the assassin. “To the hells with you!
Without that curio, you would have not beaten me. You are nothing without
it.”
“And yet you, your count, and your brethren fell to me before I had it.”
Koli laughed and knelt beside him. “And curio? Is that what you think this
is?” He shook his head and wagged a finger. “It seems your count was
keeping a secret or two from you, oh loyal avenger.”
The warrior spat at his face this time, but the spittle simply whisked
around his head, caught in the distortion field. “You should know that anyone
can use this eye,” he said, his voice close to a whisper as he tapped it. “But
not everyone should. I did your count a favor by ridding him of it—or
perhaps all the realm. I heard he was rather dashing and intelligent in his
youth before the massacre he took part in.”
“You know nothing of that day,” the other man said. His voice strained as
he attempted to stand, but his limbs were useless to him. “My count did what
had to be done, he was—”
“Yes, I’m sure there is an interesting story there and all, but that truly
does not matter to me,” Koli interrupted and moved his hand to the pouch on
his waist. “I will say I am…well, impressed, I suppose, that you survived,
whether it could be considered an act of the Astrals or not. Still, if that is the
case, it had a rather sorry outcome, didn’t it?” He produced one of his
throwing knives and turned it so the handle faced down and thrust it hard
enough that it stuck in the ground with the blade pointed up.
“What are you doing?” the warrior demanded. “Finish me.”
The assassin stood and dusted his hands off. “I probably should—don’t
make the same mistake twice and all that—but if this is the best you could
muster in all this time, I don’t feel all that threatened.” He slid his hands into
his pockets. “Feel free to hunt me again if you can get out of here, or you
now have the option to put yourself out of your misery. You can take all the
time you need to make your decision. After all, you seem good at waiting,”
His opponent looked like he wanted to yell at him and swear his revenge,
but as he pulled himself forward, pain flared in his arms and legs and his
head sagged with a groan. Koli began to exit the cave and a laugh erupted
from his throat—loud and manic as if mocking the fallen warrior. As soon as
it flared, he clamped his jaw together and lowered his eyepatch, although the
laughter continued but was now somewhat muffled.
It appeared he would need to find appropriate entertainment elsewhere.
Oh, he had forgotten to take his signet. He shrugged it off. No matter, he was
sure Zed would have some to spare.
 CHAPTER FORTY

It didn’t take long for Devol to reach the abandoned town of Reverie, nor did
it take him long to find signs of battle. He had counted at least three corpses
along the way, and various buildings, already in states of disrepair and
weathering, were now either all but destroyed or bore the scars of misfired
spells, arrows, and bullets.
When he reached the mouth of the cave, traces of mana lingered from
fired spells but he found no signs of life. It seemed that whoever had fought
there had retreated into the caves. It made sense. There was no point in
looking around the wide-open areas up top when everyone would eventually
have to enter the caves to reach the finish line. He wasn’t sure Jazai or Asla
was down there. After he tried his a-stone, he realized that they didn’t
connect, for some odd reason, and it certainly wasn’t distance. But given that
they all had to return to the same point, the odds were good that he would
find them there.
He took the path they initially followed to arrive in the second-heart
chamber and hoped to detect their mana during his journey. Although the
caves were vast and dangers lurked below, he knew he could find his friends
as long as he even got a trace of their mana. After months of training
together, he knew their essence well.
As his mana-fueled stride carried him deeper within, he retrieved the
signets he had taken from the archer and warrior, including those the man had
collected from his defeated quarry. With his, he had five in total. With only
one more, he would have the necessary number to pass the trial, which
honestly wasn’t bad for roughly ten minutes of fighting. But as he looked up
again, he also realized that he must have misremembered the directions
because none of this looked familiar. Then again, caves did look rather alike,
so maybe he was still on the right path and he was merely a little confused.
Once he rounded a corner, however, his gaze settled on a small path that
had tracks installed for mines carts—something he would certainly recall—
and he acknowledged that he was lost. He considered retracing his steps to
try one of the different passages when the earth around him shook. A cave-in
seemed a likely scenario, but the noisy rumbling made him check to see if
any golems or large beasts emerged from the dark. Nothing lumbered into
view and a moment later, he sensed mana flaring and animas in battle, which
told him there was combat nearby.
Devol put the signets away and set off quickly in the direction of the
fights. He couldn’t seem to grasp the essence of the mana as it was oddly
diluted. All he could tell for now was that that there were magi nearby and he
wanted to take a look. His path eventually brought him to an open ledge
carved along the top of another chamber. He looked down at two figures who
fought a much larger one. The wildkin who worked with Zed—Asla had
called him Ramah—held a large hammer in his hands and stared at his two
adversaries as they prepared spells to fling at the gorilla.
He snorted, hunched his massive shoulders, and charged forward without
so much as a yell or cry. With surprising calm, he simply stampeded toward
the other two while he held his hammer back. The other two magi fired their
spells. One seemed to lob a volley of mana missiles and the other launched a
group of lightning bolts.
Ramah raised his hammer in midstride and presented his chest, and both
spells pounded into the armor. The mana missiles simply evaporated on
contact and the lightning struck the chest plate and bounced to the side to
careen into the cavern walls.
The wildkin swung his hammer and the head flared purple before it
impacted with the ground and released a wave of magical force. One of the
magi was able to leap away, although the impact of the wave flung him
farther than he had probably planned. The other seemed to attempt to blink
away, but either he mistimed it or something was affecting him because he
had a mixture of confusion and dread on his face as the wave rolled into him,
picked him up, and hurled him and many sharp shards of rock into the cavern
wall behind him. His body hung on the wall, both indented into it and with
several spines of rock bored into his body.
With one of his adversaries dealt with, the wildkin merc looked at the
other magi, who by this time, had recovered and now ran to one of the
passages and threw up a feeble ward to block it off as he continued his swift
retreat away from the massive fighter.
Devol studied the victor’s armor and weapon. The armor seemed rather
plain—a simple silver breastplate and gauntlets over an orange shirt—with
the exception of a small shimmer he could barely make out. It was clearly
enchanted, which most likely made it an exotic. The hammer was also likely
an exotic, but it did not have the unique details of the archer’s bow or the
warrior’s ax. It simply looked like a large mallet but then again, in their age
when exotics came in various fancy forms that would let even the most naïve
magi know their design, perhaps more rudimentary weapons would be more
fitting for a sellsword.
Ramah did not pursue the other magi. Instead, he lowered his hammer
and looked at the man stuck in the wall. He approached the body and placed a
finger on the man’s neck to check his pulse, shrugged indifferently when he
founded nothing, and dug in his pockets to remove his signet. He placed it in
a satchel on his waist and turned his head slowly toward Devol. “Will you
simply continue to watch?”
The swordsman leaned forward and moved his hand to his sword. When
it came down to it, he preferred fight over flight. But Ramah did not lift his
hammer and instead, he placed it against the wall and walked into the middle
of the chamber. “I won’t attack if that’s your concern,” he stated flatly and
folded his large arms. “Not unless you attack first.”
He hesitated. The wildkin’s manner of speech certainly seemed civil and
he even felt his anima subsiding, although it didn’t disappear completely. He
wasn’t a fool, it seemed. After a moment’s thought, the boy dropped from his
view and landed a few meters away from the wildkin. “You do know that the
trial is still going on?”
Ramah flicked a thumb at the body. “You saw me take his signet, right?”
Devol nodded. “But you aren’t attacking me?”
He shrugged. “It’s not in me to attack children, not unless they are
spiteful.”
“I try my best not to be.” The boy’s hand moved slightly away from his
majestic.
The large wildkin chuckled, unclipped a canteen from his belt, and took a
swig. “Then you were raised right enough.” He offered the canteen to the
young magi, who refused politely. With another shrug, he screwed the cap
on. “Tell me, that wildkin with you—the girl—was that Asla Wilekit?”
“You know Asla?” he asked and immediately covered his mouth with his
hand. Perhaps he shouldn’t give that information out so freely.
“I know of her,” he explained and hung the canteen on his belt. “I saw her
a few times in the kingdom when her tribe would come to trade. It’s a damn
shame what happened to them. The bounty on that madman is probably
higher in the wildkin lands than in Renaissance and Britana combined.” He
sighed and rolled his shoulders. “I’m glad to see another of my kind making
their own way. It’s better to live their own lives than in the service of others.”
Devol lowered his hand. “We’re both Templar recruits,” he stated. “She
intends to help people one day and already has, in point of fact.”
This seemed to interest the wildkin, who studied him curiously. “Did she
choose the life?”
He nodded. “She was not forced into this life, but she was brought to the
Order after…I suppose whatever you referred to. She has not talked about it
much.”
“Then maybe I should keep my trap shut,” Ramah reasoned and folded
his arms again. “Let me ask you something, kid—why were you and your
friends working with that creep Koli?”
The swordsman looked at the ground, not completely sure how to answer.
“It was an odd situation,” he said finally. “He tried to kill us before.”
The wildkin snorted. “From what I understand, that’s usual for him.”
“Can I ask you something as well?” Devol requested and waited for a
small nod before he continued. “Why are you working with Zed? I guess I
don’t know much about him, but he doesn’t seem the pleasant type. And you
seem to be rather gentle.” He glanced at the battered body. “In a sense.”
Ramah shrugged and walked to his hammer. “I wasn’t raised for much
more than the life of a mercenary,” he admitted, picked the hammer up, and
harnessed it on his back. “Many of my kind, especially the big ones, are
thought of as little more than muscle, and history seems to confirm that we
are quite good at it.” He dug in his satchel and took out four signets. “How
has your run been so far, young one?”
The boy, despite his better judgment, took his five signets out. “To be
fair, I only defeated two magi so far and—” He looked at the archer’s red
crown signet. “One of them was your friend the archer.”
“Ayade?” the wildkin questioned and received only a shrug in response.
He peered closer at the signets, noticed hers, and chuckled. “Does she live?”
 Devol nodded and stowed the signets securely. “She does. I saw no
reason to kill her. She even helped me defeat a warrior magi…well, before
she attempted to mug me.”
“That’s typical of her as well.” He snorted. “We aren’t close. She’s not a
great conversationalist that one. If you had killed her it would be a matter of
honor, but if she is simply defeated, that’s her loss. I would watch your back
from now on, though.”
He proceeded to walk to the barrier and rested his hands on his hips as he
examined it. “This is shoddy work. Wards aren’t my specialty but even I
could probably manage something like this. I assume he was a little
preoccupied with wetting himself and all.” Ramah made a fist and raised his
arm. The same purple glow surrounded it before he punched the barrier and it
shattered instantly. “I wasn’t even hunting those idiots. I guess they thought I
was nothing more than a lumbering oaf they could eliminate with a few fancy
spells.”
“Don’t you want to fight?” the swordsman asked and focused on the
wildkin.
“Do you?” Ramah looked over his shoulder but didn’t even attempt a
defensive stance.
He considered it. “Well…I think we’re supposed to. But I did recently
finish a fight and I’m looking for my friends now.”
“Same with me,” the wildkin replied and stroked his chin. “Well, my
comrades would probably be more accurate. But either way, there are more
signets laying about, more magi who seem more eager for a fight than you,
and I’m sure that by now, Zed probably has a couple to spare. He might even
have the sister signet and all these others are merely trophies.”
A thought occurred to the boy. “Do you know where Zed is?”
Ramah shrugged again. “I have a rough idea. We were teleported together
but were separated during our fights and he seemed quite determined to go
after Koli.” He turned and gazed questioningly at him. “Why? Do you want a
crack at him?”
Devol shook his head. “I suppose I should as he is using a malefic and it
is our duty to take them, but that wasn’t what I was thinking in this case.” He
retrieved his original signet and showed it to his companion. “Koli has my
sister signet.”
The wildkin frowned. “You have almost enough that you only need one
more to pass, yet you still want that one?” His frown turned into a small grin.
“I can appreciate that.”
“Would you mind me accompanying you?” he asked and hoped to have a
safer passage with a large hammer-wielding magi at his side to keep an eye
on him in case this all turned out to be a façade.
Ramah considered it for a moment. “You don’t worry about me turning
on you?”
Devol put his signet away and shrugged. “I suppose you could, but I don’t
think you would find me an easy target. I’m more than a child.”
The wildkin chuckled and beckoned him to come forward. “It’s almost a
shame things worked out all right for you. Without a doubt, you could have
been a good merc.”
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y- O N E

After she’d managed to escape the crimson-infested catacombs, Asla now

stood in another large chamber, but this one wasn’t as dark. Directly ahead of
her, a dim light glowed from the top of a steep cliff. Cautiously, she checked
her surroundings to make sure there was no more of the hallucinogenic ore
around before she considered her options.
She could attempt to climb up the stone face, she decided. It was certainly
doable for her, even if she felt weary. Her other option was to walk around
the ravine for another passageway—something that made her nervous given
her last not so casual stroll.
The first option certainly held the most appeal. Her nails extended as she
approached the cliff face. She traced the stones and frowned when she
realized that they were damp, something that seemed incongruous in the
middle of these caves. Curious, she dug her claws into the stone and her
mana-infused nails gained purchase.
Yes, she could climb this with ease, and with the glowing lights above at
least hinting at some kind of hospitality, she was willing to take the chance.
She began her ascent and moved quickly as she ascended to the ridge above.
As she continued to climb, she could detect noises from somewhere in the
caves—possibly other participants or possibly more illusions—but she
ignored them for now.
Something landed on her face and hair. She looked up and noticed drops
of water falling off the edge of the ridge. Most hit the sides of the cliff that
protruded but as she continued to ascend, some landed on her. They felt
oddly refreshing, more than enough to cool her in the humid caves.
Once she reached the top and clambered over the ridge, she almost
slipped on the smooth, wet flooring. The entire area was flooded by a thin
veneer of water. A short distance ahead was a large pond with glowing blue
rocks around it—cobalt, she realized instantly. She walked closer and
checked her mana. There were no fluctuations and in fact, it felt strengthened
so she was not caught in any illusion.
She knelt beside the body of water and slid her hand in. It was cool but
not frigid and she scooped a small handful, splashed it on her face, and
immediately felt refreshed. She took her shoes off, sat on the edge of the
pond, and slid her feet into the water with a contented sigh. A quick respite
was indeed welcome.
The incident she had endured not too long before remained with her, but
this oasis made her recall another memory, one that happened soon after she
was brought into the Templar Order. Freki and a group of other wildkin
Templars had found her alone in the forest. They had initially only brought
her back for safety and to determine what had happened to her tribe. Once
they realized she had nowhere to return to, however, Nauru offered her
sanctuary and the other wildkin watched over her, her mentor in particular.
When the grand mistress had initially offered her a place there to stay, all
she could muster was a nod and for weeks, she could manage little more. She
would eat maybe once a day and seldom left the room provided for her.
Templars would come by to try to talk, tell her stories, and generally try to
cheer her up, but nothing was able to shake the visions of the man who had
taken her parents and friends away from her.
Freki was the one who tried the hardest and eventually succeeded. Even
in her solitary state, she had noticed that he was the odd one. His appearance
was fearsome, a wolf wildkin with dark, wild fur and amber yellow eyes. He
had pointed ears and rows of sharp teeth, and his speaking voice was deep
and growly, but the way he spoke showed someone truly trying to make a
connection with a youngling and being quite inexperienced at it.
One day, he was able to coax her out of her room and took her through a
portal to a scenic riverside somewhere in Britana. Asla had taken baths
during the time she had been in the castle, but they were simply for hygiene,
not enjoyment. When she wandered to the river, she slid her feet into it and
let it wash over her as the sun shined on her after so long.
She had never determined whether what Freki did next was intentional or
not. It didn’t seem like something a skilled hunter would fall prey to so
maybe it was another way to try to cheer her up—one that had worked. Then
again, after she’d come to know him better, she’d realized that he could be
quite a klutz when not on a mission.
The wolf wildkin had scooped a little water in his hand upriver and drunk
thirstily. As soon as he had done so, however, he began to choke before he
spat a fish into the water. His panicked eyes and frantic coughing—almost
excessively exaggerated—had finally teased a laugh out of the youngling,
which in turn drew a smile from the older wildkin.
After that, he sat beside her and they were quiet for some time, and he
was the first to speak. “I know that this may not be much but for now, I’m
glad you have smiled again, youngling.”
Asla was as well. She pressed her knees close to her chest and hugged her
arms around them. “Thank you for saving me. I don’t think I have ever said
that.”
“There’s no need for that,” he assured her and rested his hand gingerly on
her shoulder. “I would never—we would never—leave someone in need in
that position.” He clenched his teeth for a moment. “I’m so sorry we were not
there to stop them.”
She grew quiet again and Freki’s hand loosened as he began to worry that
he should not have brought it up that directly. “You have been so nice to me
—you all have,” she began and looked at him. “But you have checked on me
every day. You seem so concerned and I see sadness in your eyes but also
understanding.” She placed her small hand over his. “Did…did something
happen to you as well?”
His grasp tightened slightly and he nodded. “I lost my tribe as well. I
know what that’s like when you do not live near the kingdom.” He sighed
and shook his head. “When you feel you have nowhere else to go and that
everything has been lost. I had hoped to grow into a warrior who could help
others to never feel the way I had. I have failed in that hope.”
Asla looked into the water and saw their reflections—his regret and her
sadness. “But you continue,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Why?”
Freki looked at her and she met his gaze as he said, “Because when I fail
and others are in pain, I help no one by hiding in my failure. If I did that, how
can I help them? How can I tell them things get better when I do nothing but
wallow in my misery and theirs? If I can save even one, that is a place to
start.”
“How do I—” Tears welled and she used the back of her other hand to
wipe her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “How do I do the same?
How do I leave it all behind?”
His hand left her shoulder and he embraced her. “You cannot, not all of it,
but you don’t have to let that consume you and keep you from living.” He
released her but moved his hands to her shoulders as he looked at her. “You
can keep moving forward step by step. And you can start by making a
promise to yourself, one you will always strive to stay true to.”
Asla nodded and used her hair to obscure her eyes. “And what promise is
that?”
The wolf wildkin gave her another small hug. “I cannot tell you that,
youngling. You have to find it for yourself and once you do, it will help you
on your path back to life.”
The darkness surrounding her did not disappear that day but it was no
longer as suffocating. Each day since, she had walked a path farther away
from it, even if it was slowly.
“Hey, over here.” A voice intruded and she felt a burst of mana that
snapped her out of her memories. She turned as two female magi appeared on
the other side of the pond. They must have blinked in and both seemed as
surprised to see her as she was them.
“What’s she doing here?” the dryad asked and Asla recognized her as
Calipsi, one of the ambassadors Jazai had pointed out, which must make the
human woman with her Mara. “I didn’t sense an anima nearby.”
“It must have been obscured by the cobalt,” Mara suggested and tapped
her staff against one of the nodes. “Or she’s simply very good at hiding it.”
Asla pushed to her feet and stared at them. “Are you here to fight?”
“We were looking for a break, to be honest,” the woman replied, rested
her staff against her shoulder, and folded her arms. “But out of curiosity, do
you mind showing us your signet, my dear?” The wildkin narrowed her eyes
but took her signet from her pocket and held it up to them. Both peered
closely at it and smiled. “The silver star—isn’t that yours, Calipsi?”
The dryad nodded and produced a wand. “Indeed it is,” she confirmed. “It
looks like we found a diamond in the rough.”
Mara shook her head. “Come now, let’s be reasonable. Look at this little
thing. I don’t think she can handle both of us.”
“She made it this far,” her partner reminded her. “But what are you
suggesting?”
The woman held a hand out. “Why don’t you toss it over here, little one?”
she said and gestured with her hand. “We can settle this nice and easy.
There’s no need for things to get dirty.”
Asla glared at them as she put the signet away. “Why are you at these
trials?” she asked and stretched her arms as her anima began to flow around
her.
The ambassadors did the same, Calipsi’s a shade of light-green and
Mara’s one of dark-blue. “We’re here on behalf of our respective kingdoms,”
the dryad replied and pointed her wand at her. “Despite letting the Council
run these trials as they see fit, each kingdom still has a vested interest in it, so
we are here to do our part and make sure only those truly qualified obtain a
mark.”
“You are young so you have time,” Mara continued and held her staff in
both hands. “Let’s not make this messy.”
“Is that it? This is nothing more than a job for you?” Asla growled and
dropped to all fours as the stone in her majestic glowed and her feline anima
appeared around her. Its sudden manifestation shocked the ambassadors.
“This is the next step on my path. I promised myself to keep fighting and to
make a new life for myself!” She hissed as her eyes burned with her orange
mana. “To never be made to feel alone again!” she roared as she leapt at the
elder magi and swiped a large claw of mana.
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y-T WO

“A slashed neck and severed tendons,” Koli muttered as he inspected one of

the three bodies on the ground. He looked at another. “A stab to the heart—
the wound is about the right size so it certainly seems to be Zed’s
handiwork,”
He stood and folded his arms. The bodies were all close together so they
likely had no time to retreat or escape. They probably weren’t pushovers so a
quick ambush would be the only explanation. He shifted his focus to one of
the walls where an arm reached out, lifeless but stuck there, and several feet
down, a female magi seemed half-submerged in the ground. Her eyes were
lifeless and blood dripped from her mouth. Everything below the stomach
was probably crushed and appeared to be the work of a transmuter, probably
his squama friend.
The assassin walked forward and made sure to note all the shadows along
the path, but he didn’t have to go far to find an entrance to a large room. The
inside was completely dark and he smirked. My, he was certainly making it
obvious, wasn’t he? He could feel mana emanating from within—two
essences, in fact, and he could faintly detect Zed’s. It seemed he had chosen
the arena for their real reunion and he hoped it would be interesting.
Koli ripped one of the torches off the wall and walked inside. He’d no
sooner done so when mana surged in the room and the entrance began to
close. Unperturbed, he turned slowly to see the earth beginning to stretch out,
first as dust and sand before it reformed into stone lined with a shimmer of
mana. He chuckled, tossed the torch out into the middle of the chamber, and
noticed that several pillars stretched from the roof about three stories above.
Three platforms were formed out of rock on the west, east, and south side and
he easily detected a presence hiding behind a boulder on the eastern platform
—the transmuter, most likely.
But that was not who he was there for. One dark boot stepped into the
light of the torch before the entire form appeared and coalesced into Zed.
Koli folded his arms and smiled at the merc, who glowered at him in return.
Silence swallowed the room save for the crackling of the flames.
“So, will your friend be joining us?” the assassin asked and glanced at the
platform where the squama hid. A quick jolt in his essence was no doubt due
to his surprise that he had been detected so easily. It faded quickly as he tried
to hide and moved from the western platform to the one in the back of the
chamber. It made Koli giggle.
Zed shook his head. “I told Tiso to keep to himself. I merely brought him
to prepare your gravesite.” He gestured to the chamber around them. “And to
make sure you couldn’t run away.”
Koli’s smile turned to a frown. “Me? You honestly think I would run
away?” He pointed at the merc. “Last time we fought, it wasn’t me who ran,
Zed.” He expected this comment to be met with more angry shouting but
instead, the man did the opposite. He exhaled a long breath, sucked in
another, and tilted his head back and laughed. His hand coiled around his
malefic blade where it rested against his chest as he continued his hysterics
before he shook his head and focused on the assassin.
“It was maybe not my finest moment there,” he admitted and spat on the
ground at the memory. “That humiliation was another thing added to the list
in my head—all the cuts I intend to leave on you.” He held his Ebon Jackal
up and the dagger reflected the fire in its blade. “For every single wrong you
did to me and my company.”
“You are making this entirely one-sided.” Koli pouted. “I lost some
interesting comrades that day and over such a trifle too.” Despite the
seemingly unconcerned demeanor Zed presented, this comment made his eye
twitch. “I have to say, I am disappointed that you seem so dead set on killing
me.” He stroked his chin as his smile returned. “That moment in the cave
against that flayer showed that we can still work quite well together, even
after all this time.”
The statement made the merc look at him with a bewildered expression.
“Are you seriously suggesting you want to come back to the company?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But I could use
a few more contacts currently. I’m rather low on friends and helpful
associates.”
Zed’s hand tightened around his malefic. “I wonder why, you traitorous
rat!”
Koli nodded and sighed. “I wonder that myself.”
The merc flipped his blade and pointed the blade at him. “I told you then,
now that I have you in my sights, I won’t let you get away from me again.”
“There you go with the fantasy history again.” The assassin sighed and
ran a hand through his hair. After his run-in with the Mad Count’s guard,
Zed, and the kids, he had begun to realize that he’d probably left more people
alive than he’d intended to. It was certainly something he needed to correct
going forward because it seemed these avengers all seem to have the same
mindset and by the Astrals, was it tiring.
The merc lifted a boot and stamped it onto the torch. The flame burst
apart and began to dim as pieces scattered on the ground. The man began to
fade into the shadows. “By your bored expression, you look like you could
use some entertainment, Koli.”
The trickster smiled and produced a throwing knife. “I was about to say
something to that effect. I didn’t realize you could read minds now, Zed.”
The merc snickered, his face the only thing still visible, but the darkness
consumed that rapidly as well. “You are merely that easy to read, Koli, which
will make this a short fight but so very sweet.” His threat was punctuated by
the disappearance of his entire form into the darkness as the fire from the
torch finally died.
Calmly, the assassin pointed two fingers into the air. “Illuminate,” he
invoked. Two orbs of light appeared and a bright glow enveloped the
chamber, although there were still numerous shadows around him. A
cracking sound around him drew his attention to some nearby stalagmites that
grew in stature while their pointed heads sharpened.
He glanced to where Tiso was hiding and threw his knife at the wall near
his head, only a few inches away. “Now, now. Your boss said you would be a
good boy while we have our little dance,” he reminded him as he took two
more knives from his belt. “Remember, you are not needed here,” he warned
before he whispered something and faded out of sight to leave the squama the
only one visible in the cavern.
The wait was terrifying for him as he had to remain to maintain the
enhancements on the stone that prevented Koli from breaking out or blinking
through the chamber. But the assassin knew where he hid, even after he’d
moved from his previous position. He placed a hand on the ground and
formed a dome of rock around him to protect him from any sudden attacks
and left only a few small holes for air, but this only worsened the silence in
the chamber.
He had hoped Zed would kill him quickly like he had the other magi he
had eliminated while looking for a good place to set up. It seemed like the
merc wanted to take his time with Koli. At the thought of one cut for every
sin on his list, he honestly hoped Zed was simply exaggerating.
Perhaps he should consider himself lucky that it was simply his personal
list. If it was a list of all of Koli’s sins, he would be trapped there for years—
or, at least, that was what he had been led to believe by the boss’ stories. But
there was no way one person could be that bad, right? He’d have to be some
kind of dark lord from fairy tales or something like that.
But as the silence continued and Tiso waited for one of them—either one
as he did not care at this point—he began to realize that he might have
allowed himself to get caught in a very deadly situation. The clanging of
metal and sudden appearances of mana startled him before silence returned.
This, he thought morosely, would be a game of shadows.
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y-T H R E E

Devol and Ramah had made good progress through the caverns on the way to
Zed, at least by the wildkin’s best estimation. The boy could feel fights
happening throughout the caves. With this much mana flaring and the
topography of the subterranean system, it was hard to detect exact locations
but there seemed to be enough magi remaining that he still needed to be on
guard.
His companion did not seem as concerned. He had been quiet for the
most part since they had initially departed and he would occasionally close
his eyes, probably to better focus on finding his leader. More than once, the
swordsman was concerned that he would collide with something at the high
speed at which they were traveling.
“Tell me something, youngling,” he began after minutes of silence. “That
sword of yours—it is a majestic, is it not?”
“Is it easy to tell?” he responded. At this point, he knew he wasn’t a good
enough liar to make something up. Not even the highest-level exotics teemed
with as much power as Achroma or had such a unique look.
Ramah took a moment to study the sword before he looked ahead. “Is it
an heirloom?”
“Something like that,” he conceded and looked curiously at the
mercenary. “What makes you think that, though?”
“I believe I have seen it before,” the wildkin admitted and almost made
Devol topple as he tried to stop himself in his tracks. His companion halted
and caught him by the back of his jacket to steady him. “Is something
wrong?”
“You’ve seen it before?” he asked, wonder and excitement in his voice.
“When? Where?”
“On a job in Osira a couple of years ago,” he explained, surprised by the
young magi’s enthusiastic reaction. “I didn’t get a good look at the wielder,
but he had slaughtered an enchanted beast I and a group of twenty others had
been sent out to kill. We arrived in a cave system similar to this one to find
bodies strewn everywhere. When we found the main den, the beast had been
felled and the wielder simply turned toward us, nodded, and disappeared in a
flash of light. It was honestly one of the easiest missions I think any of us
ever claimed.”
Devol looked to the side for a moment, his face a mixture of questions
and surprise. “So he does still return to our realm and has done so recently,
but he doesn’t come to see—” He paused for a moment and sighed as he
rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to stop us.”
“No need. I can see it means much to you,” Ramah replied and folded his
arms. “I would guess that this means the wielder is someone who—Zed?” He
turned away to stare deeper into the passage. “He’s close. We need to go.”
“Right.” The boy prepared to rush off with him, only for a familiar
essence to reach out and touch his. “Jazai?”
“Hmm?” The wildkin looked at him. “Are you coming?”
“Go on ahead. I need to check on something,” Devol said quickly and
rushed down another path. Ramah considered following him but another flare
of Zed’s mana made him realize he was in combat. He could feel wrath in
that burst of mana that made him realize that the merc might have found his
quarry.
He pushed forward again, leaving Devol to his path. Perhaps they would
meet again before this was all over, and he hoped it would not come to blows.
He seemed a good kid with a promising future. But that all came down to
whether Zed’s bloodlust was sated or if he was even alive for it to be a
concern.

Devol wanted to call out to his friend. Although he was sure he felt the
scholar’s mana somewhere close by, it didn’t feel like he was calling to him
or trying to make a connection. It felt more erratic, which suggested that he
might be in a fight. He held Achroma in his hand and when he felt a stronger
connection to the other boy, he tried to send out a small pulse of his mana for
him to connect to but received no response.
He found a small opening on the side of the passage that dropped into a
tiny chamber. Cautiously, he peered inside. He felt strongly that this was
where Jazai was, but when he recalled the interaction with the illusionary
miner, he wondered if it was nothing more than a trick.
“Jazai,” he said and tried to keep it muffled. When he received no reply,
he decided to take his chances, climbed through the hole in the wall, and fell
into the small chamber. He noticed an old lantern in the corner and a group of
large rocks, which he crept behind with his sword at the ready. There, he
found Jazai on his knees with his hands on his head as he muttered in a low
tone. He felt both relieved and concerned at the sight and stretched forward to
touch his shoulder as he kept his sword at the ready. A part of him almost
expected his friend to turn with the face of a monster.
When the diviner felt the touch on his shoulder, he whipped around and
pointed his hand at Devol as one of his rings lit up. The swordsman fell back
as a mana bolt streaked past a couple of inches in front of his face and
pierced the rocky ceiling above them before it vanished. “Jazai, it’s me!” he
said in alarm and held out a hand to stop him.
“Devol?” the boy asked. His voice indicated that he was either in pain or
at the very least disgruntled.
“Are you all right?” he asked as his friend clutched his head again.
“What’s wrong? Did you bang your head?”
“In a sense,” Jazai muttered as he shifted to sit and lean against the rock.
“I guess you could say I’m learning that just because you can technically do
something, you shouldn’t without considering the consequences.”
He sat beside him and placed his sword on his lap. “What happened?”
The diviner fumbled in a pocket in his robes, fished a signet out, and
showed it to him. “This is my sister signet. I took it off that hunter I told you
about.”
“Yule?” Devol recalled. “You eliminated him?”
Jazai shook his head and winced as he put the signet away. “Not in the
way you are probably thinking…ah, by the hells, it hurts to think.” He let his
hands fall and placed his head against the rock behind him. “I used diviner
magic, which one would think would have little repercussions given that it is
my best school of magic. But even with that, it’s a little trickier when you’re
dealing with someone who is above you in skill, along with the fact that I
haven’t used it in practice in quite some time.” He looked at his ringed hand.
“No wonder Zier didn’t want me to get used to these.”
“Did something go wrong?” the swordsman asked and gestured around
them. “Your mana is leaking everywhere. I felt it way down the passage back
there.”
“It is?” his friend asked, genuinely surprised. “That isn’t good. Hold on.”
He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. His anima formed around him and
the errant mana condensed closer to his form before he used Vita to control it.
“I guess I couldn’t tell. I’ve had an awful headache ever since I escaped from
him. It was hard to concentrate.”
“I take it you haven’t come across Asla, then?” Devol asked and the boy
shook his head in response. He produced the signets he had acquired thus far.
“I was sent into the forest above the cave and only returned a little while ago.
I wanted to find you both before I tried to get my last signet.”
“At least you weren’t foolish enough to go after Koli by yourself,” Jazai
muttered. The swordsman kept his thoughts to himself for the moment as his
friend rolled his head to look at him. “I’m sorry for shooting at you. I guess
you startled me.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “I assumed as much. Fortunately, you
don’t seem to be a great shot at the moment. I was in almost point-blank
range.”
The diviner rolled his eyes as he forced himself to stand. “I’ll try harder
when we train back at the Order.” He snapped his fingers and his tome
appeared in his hand. “Let me see if I can pinpoint Asla and see how she’s
doing.”
Devol nodded and they both looked at the pages. For a few moments,
they were blank as Jazai struggled to both find her and deal with his current
condition. Eventually, words did appear, along with a somewhat sloppy
sketch of the cat wildkin.
Chase them, hunt them…they attack but are too slow… You can win…
You will win… Never again…never again.
“It doesn’t exactly look like her thoughts are calm or collected.” The
scholar winced.
“Is she in a fight?” Devol asked and looked at him in concern. “Can you
not get a good connection?”
“I don’t write the words, Devol,” he snapped. “Whatever is happening,
she’s in trouble. I can lead us to her—” When they looked down again,
directions were being written on the page. “We need to get to her. If it is what
I think it is, we’ll probably have to talk her down.”
“Do what?” he asked as his friend stepped quickly toward the opening.
“I’ll explain on the way,” he said as he climbed out of the small
hideaway, turned to him, and beckoned for him to hurry. “And if she tries to
claw your eyes out, don’t hold it against her, all right?”
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y-F O U R

Ramah placed his hands against the stone wall and a veil of red mana
shimmered against the rock. “Tiso,” he muttered, formed a fist, and rapped
against the wall with no response. The last time he’d felt Zed’s mana was in
this direction. It was gone now so he was probably doing his little shadow
trick. There would be no need for this much preparation unless he had indeed
found Koli, although given those who had pursued them earlier, perhaps the
merc had come across someone else who needed to be dealt with.
Then again, if the corpses behind him were any indication, it seemed he
had already done that.
The wildkin looked at his fist for a moment. He could probably break
through and even if he didn’t, he would certainly get the attention of those
inside. But he knew the merc leader wanted Koli all to himself, and if his
actions cost him that chance, he would have to deal with his current boss’
anger. The kid had been right earlier. Zed wasn’t exactly a compassionate
man, at least not normally, but he had made a pledge to him for now and
would honor that as long as he kept breathing. He sighed, sat against the wall
with his arms folded, and began to meditate while he awaited a victor. Either
he would walk out of there with his comrades or he’d be the one to avenge
them.

“Down here, Devol,” Jazai instructed and they dropped into a deep chasm.
The swordsman saw a glowing blue light on the ridge and his friend nodded
as he pointed it out, held the book up, and closed it to indicate that they had
finally found her. The scholar caught his arm and blinked them to the area
with the light. A pool of water with veins of cobalt surrounding it was the
source of the glow.
They saw Asla immediately. Her anima formed the signature feline
appearance around her as she circled a female magi who held a staff out in
front of her to defend herself. A dryad lay seemingly unconscious behind her.
“Dammit, what are you?” the woman demanded. Blood poured from a
tear on her left arm and the stomach of her robes. She looked briefly behind
her to see the two and her eyes widened. “You two, I could use a hand here.”
Jazai snickered and shook his head. “Mara, you do remember this is the
Oblivion Trials, right?”
“Besides,” Devol added and pointed at Asla. “We’re with her.”
She sneered at them and reached for her bag. “To hells with this. I’ll
simply—” The momentary distraction was enough for the wildkin to dart
toward her. Mara held her staff up to block the swipe, although it appeared to
have protected her thus far and was now at its limit. The staff shattered from
the assault and when Asla bounded to the side, she kicked off the ambassador
and knocked her off her feet. Her head impacted with one of the cobalt veins
and the blow knocked her out instantly.
The swordsman uttered an impressed whistle and clapped. “Nice work,
Asla. Now let’s get—” Jazai held a hand out and shook his head.
“You want to give her a wide berth for now,” he stated. They both looked
at her where she remained on all fours. Her anima hadn’t powered down and
she stared at the ground and shuddered as she dragged deep breaths in.
“What’s the matter?” Devol asked and tried to take a step forward but the
other boy pulled him with a firm hand on his jacket.
“It’s her majestic,” he explained and put his tome away. “You might
recall when we first met her that her majestic allows her to tap into her more
animalistic traits.”
He nodded. “Right, but that merely means she’s faster and has better
senses, right?”
“Normally, but that’s because she holds herself back,” the scholar
revealed and pointed to her form. “The more she taps into the power of her
majestic, the more feral she becomes. She’s worked hard to control it, but I
guess her fight pushed her too far.” He released his jacket as they regarded
her with both caution and concern. “It’s a tradeoff—willpower for strength.”
 “So what does that mean?” the swordsman asked and frowned with
sudden anxiety. “That almost makes it sound like a malefic.”
Jazai shook his head. “Majestics bond with their user but that takes time.
We’re…abnormal circumstances, even in this case.” He looked at Asla’s
gauntlets. “Her majestic was sacred in her tribe. It was wielded by the best
warrior they had. When he passed on, it was given to her. She should have
worked up to wielding them but once she discovered that she was compatible,
she almost instantly started to train with them. She’s been growing into the
power but there have been some issues along the way. The last time she lost
control like this, she destroyed a large part of the dining hall in her frenzy.”
“Then how do we help her?” he asked. “What do we need to do? You
stopped her before.”
The other boy nodded. “In a sense. Freki and a few other Templars kept
her occupied until she simply ran out of mana to power it.”
He went slack-jawed. “That doesn’t sound like a solution.”
“It is, technically,” Jazai replied with his gaze fixed on Asla. His lips
pursed. “And it doesn’t look like we’ll have much choice.”
The wildkin had noticed them now and stared fixedly at them as she
began to move forward. He held his hands out to stop her. “Asla, we aren’t
going to—”
She hissed and leapt at them. The diviner caught hold of his friend and
blinked them across the pool of water. She slid along the wet ground but her
claws cut into the earth and slowed her to a stop.
“It’s all right!” Devol shouted while Jazai formed a shield. “No one else
will harm you, Asla!”
“I wish she was saying that to us,” the other boy muttered and finished
the shield as the wildkin crept forward again. “Get your sword out.”
“I won’t hurt her,” he replied and glanced briefly at him but returned his
full focus to her after a second or two.
“And I don’t want you to but you will have to defend yourself,” the
scholar informed him as Asla prepared to pounce. “A shield like this won’t
hold her back for long.”
That was an understatement. Once she leapt at them, her claws slashed at
the mana barrier and ripped it apart. The two boys jumped away and Devol
drew his blade instinctively and held it defensively in front of him as she
turned toward him.
“Come on, Asla,” he pleaded and stepped back as she moved forward. “I
know that you aren’t in total control right now, but you can snap out of this,
can’t you?” Achroma began to brighten and her eyes closed to block the
light. “We still have to finish these trials together, all right?”
The wildkin hissed and slammed her claws into the ground as her anima
grew in size. He worried that he had inadvertently made things worse but a
moment later, her body loosened, her legs fell back, and she pounded the
rocky surface with her fist. Her anima expanded a little more before it finally
dispersed, shook the cave around them, and made both boys slip as it rumbled
and shuddered.
Devol pushed quickly to his feet and ran to her, picked her up, and shook
her lightly. “Asla, you all right?”
She muttered something he could not hear and her eyes fluttered for a
moment before she simply nodded and fell into a slumber. He sighed with
relief and looked at Jazai, who approached more slowly. “It looks like she’s
out but all right. That wasn’t so hard—did you even try to talk to her last
time?”
“She wasn’t exactly in the mood,” the boy replied sarcastically. “And I
think it was more than merely a pep talk. Back then, she was still new from
what I was told with no real connections with anyone. I guess she was able to
collect herself enough to recognize us.” He looked around the cavern. “Still,
she released a ton of mana. We need to get out of here. I’m sure that will
draw someone to us.”
He nodded, shifted to drape Asla’s unconscious form over his back, and
hoisted her up. As he walked to Achroma to pick it up, he caught a small
glint in the dark from something perched on a piece of jagged rock across
from him. He lifted the blade and blocked an incoming arrow, then jumped
back as Jazai fired a volley of mana missiles to blow up the area as the figure
vaulted off, landed in front of them, and aimed a crossbow at the scholar.
“Are you kidding me?” the young magi growled as his anima charged.
“This is that hunter from before,” Devol stated as he held both Asla and
his sword.
The diviner nodded and cursed himself for not being more careful. “Yeah,
it is. It looks like he stalked me all this way.”
“It was a clever ruse earlier.” Yule growled belligerently as he began to
squeeze the trigger of his crossbow. “But I don’t like anyone playing with my
head.”
Jazai motioned for his friend to run. “Get Asla out of here Devol.”
 “I won’t leave you,” the swordsman proclaimed.
“I didn’t say to not come back,” his friend responded and the rings on his
fingers began to light up. “I’ll need your help to finish this.”
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y-F I V E

Yule fired an arrow at Jazai. It flashed with green mana and several more
arrows appeared around it. The boy activated one of his rings quickly and
created a shield to block the projectiles as his adversary reached behind him
and took a circular blade from his belt. He tossed the chakram at Devol, who
stepped back and knocked it away. It hung in the air, spun rapidly, and
launched itself at him again at double the speed.
He dove out of the way but slipped due to the slick ground. Both he and
Asla tumbled close to the edge and she almost slid off before he threw
himself closer to her and caught one of her arms before she fell. The assassin
pointed his crossbow at the prone swordsman but Jazai dropped his shield
and pointed at him. “Immolate,” he invoked. The man yanked his hat off and
tossed it at him, and it caught fire in midair when it intercepted the spell.
Without looking at the blaze, he fired the arrow.
Devol was able to pull Asla up with one arm as he swung Achroma to
launch a mana slash toward the arrow. It destroyed the projectile and
continued toward the hunter magi. Yule ducked under the attack and fired
more arrows at him in rapid succession. Mana arrows simply slotted in and
the exotic crossbow automatically pulled the string back.
He hoisted Asla onto his back again and deflected the arrows as he had
done with the dryad archer before. Unfortunately, he was soon overwhelmed
as the assassin could fire them much faster than she could.
Jazai held a hand out and a cone of frost blasted out of one of his rings.
Yule whipped his cloak off and threw it in the way. He ran out of the
scholar’s path as he pointed a finger at him. His chakram came back to life
and flew toward the boy, who pointed at it. “Missile.” A mana missile
streaked into the enchanted weapon and blew it apart.
Their adversary moved closer to Devol, who swiped at him with
Achroma. The man ducked below the attack and placed his palm against his
chest.
“Pulse,” the hunter invoked the two friends were launched off the
platform and into the ravine.
“Devol, Asla!” their friend called and launched a wave of lightning from
his rings. The assassin turned and fired a white arrow that burst apart to
reveal a brilliant white light. Jazai was blinded for a moment before an arrow
pierced each leg. He cried out and fell to his knees as something restricted his
arms and legs. When the light vanished and his vision began to return, he fell
on his side and realized he had been bound in mana chains.
He struggled against them as Yule walked ominously to him. “Do you
hold a grudge?” The diviner grunted and tried to disperse the binding chains,
but it appeared that this hunter used more than enchanted weaponry to
achieve his reputation. He was no slouch in conjuration magic.
The assassin kicked him onto his back and placed a heavy boot on his
chest before he pointed his crossbow at the bound scholar. “If you had stayed
in the shadows, I would have passed you by,” he stated as he placed an arrow
in his weapon. “But you did manage to get one over on me so you deserve to
be treated as an opponent, not merely some kid.”
“Should I take that as an honor?” Jazai snapped, checked his rings, and
realized that he had no more spells prepared. This could be the end but he
wouldn’t go out begging.
“I suppose that is up to you,” Yule said as he began to press the trigger. “I
think it was foolish.” The boy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he
waited for death. A second later, he felt a familiar anima flare and heard a
crack and a surprised shout from his opponent.
He opened his eyes and focused on Asla, who fought the hunter with
tooth and claw. Her fast movements made her a difficult target as Devol
climbed onto the platform and hurried to his friend.
“I see Asla finished her nap,” the diviner muttered and powered his anima
in an attempt to blow away the chains.
Devol swung Achroma and destroyed a few of them. Lessening the bonds
allowed Jazai to finally free himself. “Yeah. She woke after he shot us off the
cliff. I yell quite loudly according to her,” he stated and helped his friend up.
The diviner’s legs were still wounded and blood spurted from his left calf.
“Did he get you?”
“Lucky shots.” The scholar grunted and used his mana to try to repair the
wounds as quickly as possible. “I don’t need my legs for spells, though. Are
you ready to end this?”
The swordsman nodded, raced toward the hunter, and arced Achroma into
a surprise attack. Yule had no choice but to use his crossbow to block the
strike but the blade drove through it with a loud snap. The man leapt back
and drew a pair of daggers as Devol and Asla prepared to attack together.
They both attempted an assault on the assassin, who ducked under the
boy’s strike and parried a blow from the wildkin. He was able to inflict a
small cut on the swordsman, but Asla bounded off the ground and kicked the
hunter with sufficient force to almost topple him. Yule recovered and
sprinted toward Devol with both daggers held back for a decisive blow but
mana chains wrapped around the weapons and connected to the floor,
courtesy of Jazai.
Devol pointed his majestic at the hunter and used its magic to extend the
blade. Yule released his daggers, rolled under the blade, and attempted to
retaliate with a punch to the boy’s gut. The wildkin leapt in with a flying kick
and he hurtled back into one of the cobalt nodes. The diviner blinked in front
of him and pointed his hand in his face as lightning crackled around it.
The assassin looked at him, not with hate or fear but an eerie calmness.
He looked down and chuckled. “Respect,” he muttered and opened his hand.
Two orbs fell out covered in red markings.
Jazai jumped back and formed a shield. “Explosives!” he shouted a split-
second before they detonated. Yule flung himself away as the explosion
rocked the caverns. The diviner increased the field of the shield until it
formed a barrier around the three friends as rocks began to fall from above
and the pillars cracked around them. “Cave-in!”
Mara and Calipsi finally began to awaken amongst this chaos and the
dryad checked her robes. “Where’s my signet?”
“You’re worried about that?” her partner demanded and rummaged in her
bag. “We need to get out of here! To hells with this contest.”
“But we can’t teleport in these caves. The crimson—”
“Is not a problem,” Mara declared, retrieved two black marbles, and
tossed one to her colleague. “We’re leaving these caves for good. Let’s go,”
They both crushed the marbles and disappeared in bright flashes of mana.
Jazai watched this whole exchange and almost wanted to hit himself for not
realizing it earlier.
“Of course. It’s those damned stones.” He sighed, lowered his hands, and
extended them to his teammates. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t simply try to run?” Devol asked but took his
hand as Asla did the same. “I thought you couldn’t teleport far.”
“I’m not going that far,” the boy stated and closed his eyes as he tried to
focus. “Although this is only a hunch so you may want to start praying.”
“Do what?” his friend asked but as a large rock collapsed on the barrier
and destroyed it, the three were whisked away through the caverns. In one
blink, Devol saw collapsing rocks and cracking earth and the next, he stood
in a dark hovel, seemingly the one he had found Jazai in earlier. “Wait, we’re
back here? How did you manage that?”
The diviner sighed wearily as he collapsed against the large rock and
rubbed his temples. “I overheard those two talking about the crimson. This
entire cave system is flooded with it and the longer we’re here and the deeper
we go, the more it disrupts our mana and weakens us. I was able to bring us
back here because my…issues earlier left a ton of my mana residue
everywhere in here so I could pinpoint the location easier.”
“Seriously?” Devol asked as he sheathed Achroma. “I guess that worked
out for the best, huh?”
The other boy chuckled. “That’s the optimistic way of looking at it,
yeah.”
Asla knelt beside the scholar and checked the injuries on his legs. “It
looks like they are healing well.” She looked at him and Devol. “Thank you
for finding me.”
Jazai nodded. “Thanks for the rescue,” he replied with a weary grin. “Did
you snatch their signets off them after kicking their asses?”
The wildkin stared blankly at him for a moment before she checked her
bags and pockets and fished out three signets, hers and the two ambassadors’.
“It would appear so. It looks like I was in a right enough mind to remember
to take them.” She closed her hand around them and looked at Devol. “I’m
sorry you had to see me like that.”
He looked away sheepishly. “Hey, we all have bad days, right?” He
chuckled before a reverberation through the cave caught their attention.
“What now?” the diviner sighed and almost bashed his head on the rock.
“That felt like it came from the south—the path Ramah went down,” the
swordsman commented and Asla’s ears flicked at the name.
 “You ran into Ramah?” she asked. “Did you fight him?”
The boy shook his head. “No. He was going to look for Zed who was
looking for…oh.” His voice faltered for a moment when realization dawned.
“He probably found him.”
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y- S I X

“This is maddening.” Tiso wisely kept the thought to himself. It couldn’t

have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes since Zed and Koli began their
fight, if one could call it that, but the pace was glacial and in that darkened
cavern with only the two orbs of light the assassin had made to illuminate a
small area, the squama had to rely mostly on his hearing to judge what was
happening inside his personal rocky shell.
They were not fighting one another in an all-out brawl but as two
assassins. This meant an occasional strike here or there. Zed would also
seemingly strike at random areas thinking he had a mark on his adversary,
but to no avail as he would hit nothing and disappear into the shadows again.
Whatever spell Koli had used to hide, he was a master of it. Tiso could
not find him through either feeling for his mana or vibrations in the earth. At
one point, he tried to shift the rock in the room to chisel away at some of the
pillars and larger rocks he could have been hiding behind only for a chunk of
his shell to be broken or a blade to strike close to his feet, warning him of his
promise. Any attempt Zed tried to make to capitalize on this met with
disappointment as the assassin would once again disappear before the merc
could strike.
The orbs of light began to fade. The squama peeked through one of the
small holes in his shell to look into the arena and was shocked to see his boss
appear under one of the lights with his arms outstretched. “Come out, Koli!”
He bellowed a challenge at the trickster. “This is supposed to be a test of skill
and power, not this glorified children’s game.”
Tiso began to panic, uncertain what Zed hoped to achieve. Koli could
easily capture him now using his malefic if he had a clear line of sight on
him. Did the man know something he did not? At this point, after listening to
the mercenary captain’s ramblings all this time about the assassin, he had
assumed he knew about as much as he did, but he must have missed
something.
Perhaps Zed wanted his adversary to use his malefic. It would require a
great deal of mana on Koli’s part, which would make him an easy target, but
it meant the merc would have to be able to escape the distortion ability to
make use of it. The squama tried to decide if his boss had a plan and if so,
what it might be.
Zed’s arms lowered and he spun the dagger in his hands. “Do you feel
scared now, Koli?” he taunted and looked slowly around the darkened room.
“Why don’t you make use of that eye of yours, huh? Could it be you’ve
already used it too much?” He smiled deviously. “Are you at your limit? Do
you honestly think you can fight me without it?”
“I do indeed,” the assassin replied from above. Tiso and Zed both looked
at the top of the chamber, where dozens of throwing knives hovered in the
air. Koli stood above them, his legs planted on two stalactites side by side
that prevented him from falling. He smiled as he pointed at Zed and the
knives streaked toward him in a deadly rain.
“Pathetic,” the merc growled and pointed at the knives. “Redirect,” he
invoked and the weapons halted instantly in their trajectory and spun to
retrace their journey. The assassin pointed at the shrinking orbs of light and
clapped sharply. They collided with one another and created a large
explosion of light that blinded both Tiso and Zed, who looked directly at it.
Koli dropped out of his position and snapped his fingers, and most of the
knives vanished in bursts of mana. He snatched one of the few real ones and
landed a little to the side of his adversary and lashed forward with the blade
to end this fight with a single strike to the neck.
When Tiso could see again, the assassin had his arm outstretched in front
of Zed and he feared the worst. The trickster frowned, more curious than
angry, and struggled to free his arm. The merc had caught the blow in one
hand and seemingly tried to crush his wrist through brute force alone.
“One of the drawbacks about using my malefic,” Zed muttered and
opened his eyes to stare at his opponent, “is that I can’t see too well when I’m
in the dark. I’ve had to work on my Vello and Vita all these years to
compensate so even blind, I know where you are when you finally show your
face.” He grinned as he drew his dagger back. “I said this would be cut by cut
and I think I’ll start with this arm.” He swung the dagger to hack the
appendage off. Koli let the arm go slack and ducked as he drove his leg into
the man and tripped him as his arms crossed. He flipped and forced himself
out of Zed’s grasp.
The assassin jumped back, but the man turned and rushed toward him. He
threw the knife, which Zed blocked with his dagger. Although he landed a hit
directly on the man’s face when he was close enough, this did not halt his
manic charge. Instead of attempting to stab or cut his foe, Zed grasped his
vest and dragged him to the shadows. As Zed stepped in and vanished into
the darkness, Koli seemed truly concerned for the first time when he
understood what this could mean for him. He planted his feet to attempt to
pull himself out of his captor’s grasp but to no avail. The effort only delayed
his descent.
He reached toward the light, closed his hand slightly, and made it expand
rapidly and shift the shadows around him. Part of the merc’s face was still in
the light, and when he looked back to see what his opponent was doing and
saw the light drown the shadows out, his eyes bulged for a moment before he
released the assassin and disappeared into the dark.
Koli darted back and straightened his vest as he regained his composure.
He smiled as he noted the divide between the light and shadow, picked the
knife up from the floor, and twirled it in his hand. Still smiling, he extended
the other hand, turned the expansive light into an orb again, and made it
hover above him.
Tiso knew this was bad. It seemed Koli was well aware of Ebon Jackal’s
weakness. While someone seeing it for the first time could deduce that Zed
needed darkness for it to work if they lasted long enough in a fight, there was
another drawback that was far more lethal to the user. If the assassin knew
that and could exploit it, Tiso could easily see the end of this match. He had
no choice and had to give Zed an advantage. If the trickster chose to simply
hunker down in that position, his boss would have to be the one to set the
pace.
The transmuter planted a hand on the ground. He would drop the
stalactites onto the assassin, force him out of position, and give Zed his
chance to strike. He could do it quickly. After all, he was simply breaking the
earth, not reshaping it, and he would be able to do it before Koli even realized
that he was.
“I believe I have given you sufficient warnings now,” the assassin said in
a suave but disapproving tone. Tiso heard it behind him and outside his shell.
He looked to where Koli had been but he had vanished. Startled, he tried to
recall when he might have moved without him noticing.
The shell he was hiding in was crushed as a hand reached in, caught his
neck, and pulled him out before it thrust him into a wall. The assassin placed
his dagger against his neck. “And I assume you know what I have to do now
that you’ve broken the rules, little lizard.”
“Z-Zed!” Tiso choked and his eyes widened as an arm and dagger
appeared out of the darkness behind his captor. The trickster smiled and
lowered his knife as Zed leapt out of the dark and attempted to run his blade
through his head. Koli simply tilted his head to the left. The blade passed him
but skewered the squama between the eyes. His body instantly went limp.
The merc leader glared at him for a moment before the transmuter’s mana
that lined the cavern walls disappeared as he released the body. Ebon Jackal
split the head open as it fell through the blade and onto the floor. The assassin
made a disapproving sound and clicked his tongue against his teeth as he
turned to the mercenary leader. “Now, Zed, is that how you discipline all
your underlings?”

Ramah felt Tiso’s mana fade. He had no doubt that he was dead. The wildkin
stood, picked his hammer up, and held it in both hands as he stared at the
wall. Zed had been given his chance and it had cost them one ally already.
This needed to end. He raised his hammer and prepared to drive it through
the wall, ready to end it himself.
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y- S E V E N

Zed shouted in fury as he swiped at Koli, who simply ducked under the
clumsy attack, placed one hand on the ground, and flipped back several
paces. “I must certainly give you some credit, Zed,” he commented and
twirled his knife. “You have started to use your malefic more imaginatively,
but you are still quite predictable since you seem so keen to deal decisive
blows. I thought you said you wanted to savor this?”
The merc lashed out and swept his dagger in front of him although he was
still far away from his target. The assassin saw his arm disappear and
immediately noticed it protruding from the wall in an attempt to slice into his
stomach. “There you go,” he teased as he stepped back. The dagger cut into
his vest and shirt but not his skin.
His adversary dove into the shadows of the wall and vanished from sight.
Koli looked both above and below him and reminded himself that he needed
to get into the light. His foe could come from any direction. He held a hand
up. “Illuminate,” he invoked and fired several small orbs of light into the air.
This wouldn’t block out all the shadows and darkness but it gave him more
room to maneuver.
“You keep taunting me and goading me to use my malefic,” Zed said
belligerently and his growled tones echoed inside the chamber. “But what
about you, Koli? Is this another way to mock me, not using your malefic? Or
are you simply too much of a coward? I’ve heard about the eye and I know
what happened to that count. Are you afraid the same thing will happen to
you?”
The assassin was about to respond when he felt a small tremor as
something pounded against the earthen wall across the chamber. It seemed
someone was knocking.
“Every malefic makes you pay a price for its power, Koli. Have you paid
up yet?”
“It’s a shame yours seems to be the need to chatter incessantly,” he
mocked as he bounded to a pillar, caught hold of its side, and hung about ten
feet up as he looked around the chamber for any signs of where Zed could
attack from and made sure to keep his back in mind. It seemed increasingly
obvious that the man was giving up the piece by piece or cut by cut nonsense.
Although, despite his confidence, the merc leader’s words had some
effect. He had to ask himself why he had not ended this miserable farce
already. Admittedly, his opponent had at least put up an enjoyable fight, but
the more enraged he became, the more Koli felt that this would dissolve into
a simple brawl, and that was no fun at all.
He recalled the warrior he had killed shortly before he found Zed and that
at the end of that fight, he had begun to feel somewhat more…jolly than
usual. He shouldn’t have been so surprised or displeased because it wasn’t
like the feeling wasn’t enjoyable. But he had always prided himself on his
control. His decisions and actions were his own. While he might be an evil
person in the eyes of many, it was his choice to be so and he neither despised
nor reveled in it. Quite simply, it was how he lived his life.
This meant that the one moment in which he did not make a decision of
his own volition…well, it was understandable that it annoyed him to some
extent.
He felt his enemy’s mana behind him, which wasn’t at all unexpected.
But when he turned and threw his knife, it pierced a wall and he realized it
had been a distraction. He felt it again below and looked down to see the
merc launch himself out of the shadows toward him. Koli kicked off the
pillar as Zed hurtled past him to the ceiling, where he disappeared amongst
the shadows cast by the pillar.
The assassin reached out to the orbs of light, shifted them, and tried to
maneuver them so most of the shadows were in his line of sight.
Unfortunately, this proved to be a little more difficult to execute than he had
hoped. That squama could certainly design a cave, it seemed. He then saw
Zed for only a moment as he faded from the ceiling into a patch of shadow on
the ground, and again when he headed from one wall to the other and gained
speed. Koli jumped into the center of the cave, picked up two of his discarded
knives, and held them ready. It seemed his opponent intended to try to best
him in a test of speed. Well, at least he was trying.
He checked his shadow, thin and stretched in the light. That was one of
Zed’s weaknesses. He could move his body through darkness and shadow,
but if he wanted to move his whole body through, the space had to be big
enough and his large frame hampered that. The obvious solution to this was
to thin himself out so his ability to use his power was more convenient, but
Zed chose not to do this. It made the assassin almost sorry that the Ebon
Jackal had fallen into his hands. He certainly did not use it to its full ability.
One of the orbs was snuffed out and Koli looked as Zed vanished into
another wall and then lunged from the ground to slice through another orb
before he disappeared again. It was somewhat clever, but creating light
demanded almost frivolous amounts of mana. He could simply create another
batch before his adversary could destroy those already in existence.
The assassin spun as his adversary surged toward him. He attempted to
dodge the strike and was mostly successful but felt a pain in his arm as the
merc’s dagger sliced into it. While it didn’t sever the arm as he probably
wanted, it left a deep wound.
Zed disappeared into another wall before he fell through the ceiling,
destroyed one of the orbs, and shrouded the area around Koli in shadow as he
attempted another strike. The trickster met the attack with his dagger but
Ebon Jackal simply cut through it and the blade shattered in his hand and
flung shrapnel into his face and hand while the merc disappeared into the
now shadowed ground.
Koli moved the remaining lights around him quickly as he picked out the
pieces of blade lodged in his skin. At least he was landing strikes now. As he
made the lights swirl around him to ensure that the man could not get close to
him, he heard his laugh echo through the chamber.
“Do I have your attention now?” the merc mocked and his laughter
echoed the pounding against the rock wall nearby. “Come on, Koli. All that
talk before was only having a little fun. Now, you are merely trying to hide
from me, but you know what my Ebon Jackal can do.”
The assassin’s vest pushed outward and a hand ensnared his neck while
another appeared holding the dagger. His adversary was using the shadow
created by the clothes on his body. “I own any darkness near me!” The arm
swung viciously to stab him in the eye and he managed to tear his clothes off
as he ducked to the side to avoid the strike that nicked the side of his head
and ear. He flung the garments away as the arms disappeared.
 In the next moment, something draped across his shoulder. He grasped it
and realized that his eyepatch had been sliced off in the scuffle. Startled, he
ran a hand through his hair as it stood slowly when his distortion field formed
around him and his malefic awakened.
“There we go.” Zed chuckled. “I want this to be a real victory. I want to
crush you at your best to let you know you stood no chance against me after
all this…” His words trailed off when Koli laughed, but not the casual, jovial
laughter he normally used in conversation. This was far more wicked than
usual, more like the laughter one would utter after killing someone they
despised. It was what Zed might do after his enemy fell to him, but Koli
hadn’t killed him yet.
“It looks like you got what you wanted, Zed,” he announced and
surprised the merc as his voice was much louder and higher pitched than
normal. He had never heard him speak in anything more than a
conversational tone and he wondered if it was merely a bout of bloodlust.
The assassin snapped his fingers and all but one of the orbs of light
vanished to leave him beneath the last one. This one shrank so there was
barely enough light to cover his form. Zed peeked out of his dark world to get
a closer look at his foe, who looked down with his arms folded and his face
obscured in shadow. The ever-shifting lights of his Madman’s Eye were still
visible, however. His shoulders jiggled up and down as he continued to
giggle quietly. “But I guess that getting what you want means you won’t get
what you truly wished for.”
What in the hells was he on about? The merc leader slipped into the
shadows. His adversary had surely lost it. He was right and the eye was
getting to him. Perhaps the reason he hadn’t used it after all was because he
was weaker now when he used it. Zed’s hold on Ebon Jackal tightened and he
smiled at the thought that he would finish this. But as he moved about his
dark space to a wall directly behind his target, Koli’s head snapped toward
him with a devious grin that struck him with sudden fear.
His foe pointed directly at him and said, “I see you.”
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y-E I G HT

Koli looked directly at him and the shock made Zed move away. He traveled
through the shadows to a position on the ceiling overlooking his opponent.
The assassin didn’t move at first, but he finally turned slowly and looked up,
again directly at the mercenary leader, and his demonic grin never faltered.
Beyond the first time he had used the power of Ebon Jackal, he had never
felt any unease in his private dark world. Admittedly, he could only peek at
the outside world from within, but he had overcome that in short order over
the years. After enough time, he had grown to feel comfortable within the
shadows and it became almost something of a sanctuary, even during combat.
But as the Madman’s Eye bore down on him and stared into his wide
eyes, he felt compromised. Concern that bordered on dread made this a
sanctuary no longer. He would not let his adversary change the flow of this
fight. While he had delivered some minor strikes, he needed to end this
before his enemy was able to find a way through—something he had thought
impossible until now but given the situation, he had to think it probable. He
had to strike fast and with most of the area around his target hidden in
darkness, he could attack from anywhere. It provided a ludicrous advantage
normally, so why did he hesitate?
He hefted his dagger and snarled as he darted to the area behind Koli,
lunged out of the darkness, and attempted to backstab the trickster before he
had a chance to turn. But something was wrong. His body shifted and his arm
moved to the left beside his target’s ribs. The limb came down, now trapped
by his adversary, who flipped him and landed a kick to his stomach that
hurled Ebon Jackal’s user into a rocky wall and knocked the air out of him.
Since when the hell was Koli this strong? Zed wheezed for a moment as
he forced himself to his feet and sank into the shadows, while the assassin
simply stared at him as he took refuge in darkness. The merc had not feared
him since the day he had betrayed him and his brother. Hate had taken any
feelings of terror or sadness when he envisioned the man, but looking at him
now, his face looked more like a twisted mask than that of a human. The
sight stripped away the confidence he had in his power and that fear began to
return.
Zed traveled to the ceiling again but stopped midway. His first thought
was that something was wrong with Ebon Jackal.
“What’s the matter, Zed?” Koli asked and twisted his head against the
strain of his suddenly immobile body to where his enemy stared at him with
his hand outstretched. “I thought this was what you wanted, so why run?”
The assassin yanked his arm back and the abrupt gesture pulled the merc
from the shadows toward him. He raised his other arm and as soon as Zed
was close enough, hammered it into his cheek and caused it to rupture from
the force, and drove him into the floor. The man’s consciousness almost left
him as a result of the strike and he tried to push past his bewilderment. His
adversary was an assassin. He was physically strong, certainly, but even with
Vis, he’d never had this kind of might.
The merc got to his knees and stood shakily. He tried to retaliate with a
hard kick to Koli’s stomach, only for it to be ensnared by the distortion field
of the malefic eye. The assassin prodded the boot for a moment.
“You need to keep your anima up, Zed. Are you nervous?” he asked as
the boot slowly began to turn. Zed attempted to focus and empower his anima
when he felt his foot about to break. “Because if you don’t, it’s easy for me to
do this.” The boot spun suddenly in a full circle and a series of loud snaps
and cracks resulted in a severely mangled foot and he uttered a pained yell.
Koli let the foot drop and Zed lunged at him with his dagger raised. With
frightening ease, his adversary caught his hand, flipped him, and thumped
him into the ground again. “I’m starting to see why you rely on hit-and-run
tactics, Zed,” the assassin mused as the merc began to crawl away. “It seems
you are not man enough for a face-to-face fight.”
“To the hells with you, Koli!” he snarled and again attempted to dive into
the shadows as the other magi raised a hand. He had managed to get all but
his mangled foot into the darkness but a searing pain made him cry out before
he was forced out of his refuge to sprawl in the pool of blood that formed
around his legs. The area was incredibly bright now and Koli walked closer
and picked something up from the ground. A moment later, the merc
recognized the object as his foot.
“Well, that’s one guess that turned out to be true.” His adversary
chuckled and showed the severed appendage to the merc leader. “I shifted the
light as you made your little getaway, which caused the shadows to move.
Your foot was still on this side while the rest of you hid.” He tossed the foot
to the side. “It seems it was caught between the darkness and the real world—
much like closing a portal on someone while they travel through, it
eviscerates the body,”
The merc turned and thrust Ebon Jackal through his own shadow, one of
the only pieces of darkness left around him. He planned for it to pierce Koli’s
shadow and skewer his leg to wound him in some fashion and break his
focus. Instead, he felt something pierce his ribs and he hissed in pain and
looked down at his blade that now dug into him.
When the assassin pointed above, the merc rolled back to see a distortion
field above him. Koli shifted it so his shadow was now under his opponent. “I
saw that coming.” He snickered, grasped him by the neck, and lifted him to
look him in the eyes. “I’m mad, Zed, not a fool.”
Zed felt the field encircle his head but was powerless to react. He had lost
so much blood now and the pain of his wounds made him lose focus. His
anima faded and he could feel his head begin to turn.
“This must have been a win-win fight for you, Zed,” Koli stated and his
demented smile returned to more to the casual, teasing one his enemy was
familiar with. “If you won, I was dead and you got your vengeance.” The
man struggled against the force around him. “And if I won, you got to see
your brother again.” The light above began to fade and the cave darkened.
“Tell him I said hello and no hard feelings, I hope.”
The merc spat on him and in an attempt at one final attack, tried to ram
Ebon Jackal through the side of Koli’s head. The assassin knocked the blade
aside, although did get a small cut above his ear in the pointless exchange. He
smiled at the man in acknowledgment. “Respect,” he stated before Zed felt an
immense pressure that forced his head around completely and the light and
his life were extinguished.
Ramah delivered a final blow to the cavern wall. Tiso must have fortified it
with more than only his mana for it to be this sturdy, but Zed must be within
and he could surely hear that help was coming. With the last empowered
punch, the wall finally cracked and crumbled away to reveal a dark cavern
within with no noise or signs of struggle. The lanterns lighting the cave
illuminated the new space for only a few feet as the wildkin held his hammer
in his hands and debated about whether to step inside or not.
His deliberation ended when a figure walked into the light. It was a man
with long violet hair and a narrow face, who wore an eye patch and was
putting his shirt and vest on. He noticed the mercenary after he’d pulled the
garments over his head.
“Hello there,” he greeted pleasantly and twirled something in his right
hand. “And who might you be?”
Ramah looked at the object in this stranger’s hand. The dark dagger with
an ornate hilt was unmistakable—Ebon Jackal. “You are Koli,” he stated.
The man chuckled and nodded. “I am indeed, but that’s not what I
asked.”
“So you killed Zed then?” Ramah asked even though he was certain of
the answer.
Koli shook his head before he nodded. “You truly don’t know how
questions work, do you? Although yes, I have…ah!” He snapped his fingers
and pointed at the newcomer. “You’re the wildkin in Zed’s little troop, of
course! You must have been the one making that racket.”
He did not nod or move at all and the assassin lowered his hand and
scratched the underside of his chin with the back of Ebon Jackal. “So, will
you be another avenger? I should give you some advice and say that I’ve run
into two today and both did not fare well.” He looked at the blade and it
caught his reflection. “I should also tell you I have made something of a
promise to myself to not leave any survivors to hunt me in the future. It’s
become a nuisance, I have to say.”
In a somewhat dramatic gesture, he placed a hand against his heart. “But I
will promise to leave you alive as the last one before I enact my new rule,
assuming you promise to not target me in the future. Think of it as a kind of
lucky prize for coming at the right time—or wrong time, I suppose. It
depends on your outlook.”
Unmoved, Ramah continued to stare at him and Koli frowned. “Are you
still contemplating the whole revenge scenario? Was Zed that dear a friend?
Even when he didn’t want me dead, he wasn’t what I would call a good
man.”
The wildkin drew a deep breath and nodded. “He was not. I agree with
that but I do not think he was irredeemable.” He slung his hammer over his
shoulder as he continued. “He was an angry, bitter man when I met him but
he was not soulless. More than once I saw him give to the less fortunate,
particularly children, and he would do jobs like running bandit camps away
from small villages for no pay.”
“Truly?” Koli sounded genuinely surprised. “This is the same Zed who
used to take pleasure in torturing people for information and who would beat
his men on a bad day?”
Ramah shrugged. “I never saw him do those things. Perhaps he did, but
he would say that his brother would do the same when I asked why he did
certain things.”
The assassin paused and nodded after a moment. “I suppose he did every
now and then. That one was a big softy. I suppose his death had an effect on
him, which means I did as well.”
His gaze suddenly hard, the wildkin ground his teeth for a moment to
keep from shouting. “My hope in life is to help people like that become better
—to atone for my misdeeds that one inevitably has in this profession. But I
could see that he would never move on until he had dealt with you, which
was why I was able to call in a few favors and have the Council invite you to
these trials to get you into a place where Zed could deal with you.”
Koli was genuinely surprised. “Wait, that was you?” He began to chuckle
and it broke into a long, loud laugh. “I truly admire your dedication. I hadn’t
even considered it could be a trap of some kind, at least by someone from my
past.” He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I commend your
tenacity, although I suppose this did not work out as you had expected.”
“I could only hope,” Ramah admitted and closed his eyes a moment in
regret. “Which was all I could do with Zed as well.”
He folded his arms and focused on the larger warrior. “So then, where
does that leave us?”
Ramah opened his eyes again and a few moments of silence passed
between the two before he took his hammer in both hands and stared at him.
The assassin sighed and nodded. “I suppose that is how it works with
your kind, isn’t it?” he muttered and seemed disappointed. “Hopefully, the
next person won’t simply dismiss my hospitality.” He paused to think for a
second before looked at his possible opponent again. “You don’t know me as
well as you did Zed, but when you look at me—and knowing what you do as
I assume your boss gave you an earful—what do you see? Am I irredeemable
in your eyes?”
The wildkin frowned and took a moment to study the assassin before he
spoke. “I used to believe there were very few who could not be redeemed.
Deep down, we wish to do better and be better, but the circumstances of our
lives force us down dark paths and corrupt our very souls,” His hands
tightened around his hammer. “But seeing you now and how you seem so
unbothered by everything that has happened, not only today but in your
life…” He exhaled a long breath through his nostrils. “I cannot say you even
have a soul. You live by your whims alone, no matter who it hurts, and your
drive seems to be only malicious. If anything, I would say there is nothing to
you but a desire to see death and destruction in your path. You are not even
human but a vessel of chaos.”
Koli considered this for a moment before he nodded. “I would agree with
you. I have to say you are quite good at reading people.” He took a step back
and held Ebon Jackal up. “Very well then, at least make this entertaining, all
right?”
Ramah lifted his hammer and uttered an angered battle cry as mana
coated his weapon and he swung it at his adversary, who disappeared into the
shadows.
 C H A P T E R F O R T Y-N I N E

The three young magi ran down a path strewn with bodies. This put Asla and
Jazai on high alert but did not seem to worry Devol, who continued to race
down the hall.
“Devol, what are you doing?” Jazai demanded, then gritted his teeth when
he remembered to keep his voice down in case there were enemies nearby.
His friend didn’t respond. He was too focused on what was in front of
him. Large quantities of mana indicated that someone was either producing a
massive spell or there was a fight in progress. If the corpses were any
indication, it was the latter.
As he turned the corner, he saw Ramah’s massive back and the two ends
of the hammer he held in his hands. He was momentarily relieved and almost
called to him before he realized that he felt another familiar mana. His friends
caught up to him as the wildkin mercenary fell back, his body marred by cuts
and wounds. He drew one long breath before he closed his eyes as his mana
faded from his body.
The three looked at the large warrior magi in shock and surprise. The
swordsman felt a twinge of remorse. He had certainly not known him long
but he deserved a better fate than this, even if it was almost inevitable in these
trials. Jazai placed a hand on his shoulder and pointed directly ahead. Devol
looked up and his eyes widened. Koli leaned against the cavern wall while he
balanced a dagger nonchalantly on his finger.
The assassin looked at them, his face partially obscured in shadow, but it
couldn’t hide his satisfied grin. He tossed the dagger up and caught it before
he focused his attention on them and put his other hand on his hip. “Well,
hello there, young ones,” he said cheerfully and walked a few steps toward
them. “I wondered if I would run into you again before the end. This is such a
happy coincidence.”
Jazai and Asla both dropped into defensive positions while Devol
remained unmoved and simply stared directly into Koli’s eyes. “So you killed
him then?” he asked and gestured at Ramah’s body. It was obvious, certainly,
but he wanted to hear the man say it.
He was happy to oblige. “I certainly did,” he confirmed and looked at the
dagger. “It was interesting, mostly because I had to get used to this dagger,
but he lasted far longer than I would have guessed.”
“That’s Zed’s malefic,” the diviner. “You can wield both?”
“It’s honestly not that difficult,” Koli said and he chortled and rolled the
dagger in his hand. “Although I have to say I’m not sure how I feel about it.
You would think that as an assassin, it would fit me perfectly but there is
something wrong about it.” He frowned but eventually shrugged and looked
at them again, although he remained thoughtful. “So, how have you fared? I
hope you are ready to reach the finish. I would suspect that at least a couple
have already arrived in the chamber.”
None of them responded as they waited for the trickster’s next move—or
more specifically, to see if he would take the opportunity to attack. Koli
shook his head after a few seconds of silence before he vanished, seemingly
into the ground. They all jumped back in surprise.
Devol felt something touch his pockets. He turned as his friends checked
their pockets and bags as well and both paled. Koli emerged out of one of the
darkened walls and looked at something he held in his hands.
“I see the cat girl and the bookkeeper both have their sister signets,” he
commented, glanced behind him, and lobbing the signets at the feet of their
owners. “And there are six left. Look at that—enough for you to get in as
well.” He focused on the young swordsman as he slid his hand into his vest
pocket and produced his signet. “I suppose you don’t need mine, then?”
The boy reached for Achroma’s hilt. “I may not need it but I want it,” he
declared and drew the sword. “I want to see what the difference between us
is.”
Koli made a face that at first appeared to be surprise but soon settled in an
expression that suggested he was almost enamored with the swordsman.
“You are fantastic, little Devol,” he all but purred, took the boy’s signet out
of the pile, and added his own as he tossed them to the young magi, who
caught them in one hand.
 “What are you doing?” he demanded as he examined them warily.
“Oh, don’t make such a fuss,” the assassin said in a jovial tone. He chose
one of the signets at random and let the rest fall. “I only need one to stay in
this game. I can collect more and I intend to.” He began to walk away and
before his friends could stop him, Devol leapt at the assassin who simply
disappeared into the ground again before he appeared above him and
thwacked him with a powerful strike to the back that drove him to his knees.
Before his two friends could retaliate, Koli disappeared and reappeared
behind them to rest a hand on each of their shoulders. “I think I worked it
out,” he mused and tapped the dagger on the diviner’s shoulder for a moment
before he walked past them. “Why this dagger doesn’t agree with me. It
makes things rather boring for me.”
He stopped beside Devol and planted the blade in the ground before he
moved on again. “Take it back to your teachers. I’m sure they can do
something with it,” he suggested as he began to walk into the darker parts of
the passage. “I’ll do my best to hurry to the finish line, but I haven’t had
enough fun yet.” He snapped his fingers and vanished.
Jazai and Asla hurried to help their friend up, who plucked the dagger out
of the ground and looked at it, then at Ramah’s corpse and into the darker
chamber behind him. He focused on the signets in his hand and grasped them
tightly as he sheathed Achroma.
“Come on,” he said brusquely. “Let’s finish this.”

It did not take them long to reach the chamber where the trials had begun and
it turned out that Koli was right. Two figures waited and sat with a fair
distance between them. The first was one of the wildkin hunters Asla had
pointed out earlier, although he did not look triumphant but crestfallen.
Neither of his teammates was with him so it was easy to guess why. The
other, surprisingly, was Jett, but none of his men were present. The bandit
captain looked at them with a flicker of recognition in his eyes but he simply
sighed and looked away.
Karrie appeared but spoke no instructions and simply extended her hand.
They gave her their signets and she looked carefully at each one before she
nodded. “Well done. We await the rest until the final hour. For now, relax.
You have earned it.” With that, she vanished and appeared on the ledge with
Mephis and the other council members.
As Devol and his friends found a place to sit, each retrieved any food and
drink they had left and ate silently. There wasn’t a sense of pride or victory
among them but fatigue and a bittersweet feeling of resolution.
Hours passed and a few more magi did come through. The first, who
appeared about an hour after the youngsters did, was Yule. His armor was
cracked and he was missing some of his pouches and daggers. After he’d
handed his six signets to Karrie, he looked at Jazai and nodded as he walked
to the other side of the cavern and sat, folded his arms, and tucked against the
wall.
About two hours after he arrived, a dwarf appeared. She seemed to have
lost an arm during the trials as the stump was bundled in a cloth and cuts on
her face and armor indicated that she’d had a long, vicious path to the end.
Her expression almost blank, she gave Karrie her signets, moved to the
middle of the cavern, and collapsed from exhaustion. The wildkin hunter
approached her and they talked briefly before she presented her arm and he
tended to it with healing magic.
Finally, about another hour after the dwarf appeared, Koli made his
return. He gave Karrie his signets and whispered something to her before she
simply disappeared and he smiled at the trio as he passed them and leaned
against the wall. It was soon after he arrived that Mephis and the rest of the
Council stepped forward on the ledge and looked at the magi present.
“With this last arrival, this year’s trials are concluded,” he announced and
looked at those gathered as he raised a hand and eight small circular objects
floated above him. “It is my honor to present you with your marks for your
success and for outrunning oblivion.” The marks drifted to each of the
present magi. Devol plucked his out of the air and studied the black coin with
an “O” emblem stamped inside.
“As you can see, they are made from obsidium,” one of the council
members stated. “It can hold mana in a similar manner to cobalt but cannot
release that mana or have it be overwritten. The coin has a small amount of
mana from one of our council members,” he explained as he gestured next to
him. “But you must infuse the emblem with your mana. It will be bound to
you and to you alone.”
“You have gained special privileges with this mark and you are one of
only a few,” Willard declared and took a moment to look at each of the
victors in turn. “But should you abuse those privileges, we will make sure to
correct our mistake in giving you this opportunity.”
Devol looked at his friends. They clutched the coins in their hands and
nodded before they let a trace of their mana flow into the coins. The
swordsman’s sparkled silver in the “O,” while Asla’s was orange and Jazai’s
blue.
The other magi in the room did the same and soon after, the council
members bowed and disappeared—all but one who jumped down to the
middle of the chamber. Most of the trialists stiffened, ready for one last
“test,” but he simply held a hand up to calm them and said. “I am here to
provide a portal to any destination in the realms you wish to return to if you
want one,” he stated and lowered his hand to the side as it began to glow.
“Do I have any takers?”
“You aren’t much for ceremony, are ya?” the dwarven woman muttered
as she approached him. “Send me to Anchorage. I need to see the dwarven
king,”
He nodded. “Certainly.” A portal appeared with a vision of golden halls
with some kind of red liquid flowing through them. She nodded in thanks and
walked through. Yule stepped up next and requested Osira. Jett took his place
and muttered the name of a forest before he hobbled through.
“I enjoyed our time together.” The three friends startled when Koli stated
this from behind them. “But it seems it is time to depart.” He walked between
them but halted after several steps. “I hope we can meet again but it will be…
different next time, I’m sure.” He peered at the swordsman. “Get stronger,
okay, little Devol?” Without waiting for an answer, he approached the portal-
maker and whispered something to him. The man nodded and created a portal
with an image of what appeared to be the interior of a quaint cottage that the
assassin strolled into.
The council member looked expectantly at those who remained. The
wildkin shouldered his bow and shook his head. “I’ll walk,” he stated as he
began to pack his belongings. “I need time to myself.”
“I agree,” Jazai half-whispered so the others heard him. Devol nodded
and waved the portal-maker away. He nodded and closed the gateway before
he vanished. Asla hurried to the wildkin’s side as her friends packed their
belongings.
“Well, we made it,” the diviner stated as he rearranged the contents of his
bag. “How do you feel?”
 “I think I should be more joyful,” the swordsman admitted and his gaze
scanned the empty arena. “We didn’t lose anyone and the three of us got
through together but… Can you count this as a pyrrhic victory even if we
didn’t lose anyone?”
Jazai closed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Not technically, but I
know what you mean.” He clapped him on the shoulder and the two walked
to Asla and the deer wildkin.
“I don’t know where to go,” he said, his voice almost a sob. “They were
my brothers and now, I’m alone. I have no place to go.”
“I know a place,” she replied and held him close. “You can make a new
start there, exactly like I did. You can’t hide in your pain. If you can save one
person, that is a place to start, even if it is only yourself.”
The wildkin and her friends looked at her in surprise. He attempted to dry
his eyes. “I’m not sure when I will get there,” he said, his voice breaking.
“But you are right. Those are wise words for someone so young.”
“They aren’t my own,” she admitted and drew him in for one last hug
before she pulled back. “But they are indeed from a wise person.” She looked
at her friends with a soft smile. “We should return now, yes?”
They both nodded and Devol offered a hand to her as he said, “Yes, back
to the Order. Perhaps there we can truly feel we succeeded.”
“Or if nothing else,” Jazai added, “we can have some kind of
celebration.”
 EPILOGUE

“All right, you stuffy bastards!” Pete roared as he stood atop one of the tables
and held two tankards in the air. “We’re celebrating three of ours coming
home from the trials! So if yer not getting smashed, I’ll be doing it for ye!”
“I don’t think that came out how you meant it to.” Acha chuckled and
lifted a glass to his lips.
Pete leapt off and fell into a seat beside him. “Maybe not, but hic, I’m a
wee bit drunk.”
“More for the table?” Rogo asked as he placed a loaded tray on the long
surface.
Freki winced. “Oh, come on now. He doesn’t need more for—"
“I don’t mind if I do!” Pete said and helped himself to another tankard.
Freki and Acha looked at his two now empty tankards in astonishment.
“Weren’t those full?” the wildkin asked and pointed to them.
Acha shrugged and finished his drink. “He’s a dwarf man. Besides, he
does have a point. This is a celebration. I would think you would be one of
the most relieved that they have returned, or at least drink to stave the jitters
off.”
“I have done so for the last two weeks,” the wildkin admitted as he
frowned at his mostly full beer stein. “I’m worried the collective hangover
might kill me.”
“Don’t you collect a piece of any animal or creature ya slay?” Pete asked
as he wiped his mouth. “Does that mean the beer will get a trophy?”
Acha snorted. “We’ll hang it over one of the kegs in the back.”
“Hilarious,” Freki muttered but took a larger sip of his stein.
“Does anyone want to head to the arenas for a brawl?” Wulfsun called
from where he stood on his chair. “My apprentice has boasted about his tales
from the trials and it’s getting my blood going!”
“He’s no longer your apprentice, Wulfsun,” Koko chided as she picked
up some of the empty glasses and tankards. “With that mark earned, the
grand mistress has chosen to make them all fully-fledged Templars.”
“Yer right!” he said with a loud laugh. “Even more of a reason to
celebrate!”
“I wouldn’t say I’ve boasted, Wulfsun,” Devol reasoned and tried to pull
him into his chair. “Maybe more like recounting or regaling, at best.”
“Regalin’? Now that’s a proper word. It’s all part of your legend now,
Devol!” The Templar captain cheered. “He brought not one but two malefics
with him as well, so he’s already upholding the Templar way.”
“And you are doing a commendable job showcasing Templar dignity,”
Zier said sarcastically and drew a chuckle out of Jazai. The elder scholar
raised a hand and a blue pulse flashed out and knocked Wulfsun’s chair over.
The large man tumbled and his beer splashed onto his head. “Have you
cooled off now?”
“That’s a start,” the Templar captain muttered as he stood again.
“Although I might have to pull you into the arena myself now.”
“It looks like they are breaking the mead out,” Vaust interjected and
pointed to a couple of the chefs who entered with a tray that held several
bottles.
“Oh, hold onto that thought for a moment,” Wulfsun said as he strode to
the chefs, snatched two of the bottles, and ignored their attempts to stop him.
The mori chuckled and sat beside Devol. “I haven't seen him this excited
in quite some time,” he commented and nodded at the large man before he
took a sip from his gourd. “He was quite worried once you set off. Even
when he went to claim the malefic, he was still concerned as you had not
reached the cavern at that time.”
“I’m glad I could show him that his training paid off,” the boy replied
with a small smile and studied the mori with interest. “Hey, Vaust, do you
know some named Kiara? An angeli perhaps?”
His companion considered it for a moment. “No, but I have interacted
with only a few hundred of them over the years. Mori and angeli are not at
each other’s throats like we once were, but it’s still better that we don’t
interact on a regular basis for the most part.” He took another sip before he
regarded him curiously. “Why do you ask?”
 “Ah, no reason. Someone I ran into mentioned someone like that, I
think.” He changed the subject quickly. “Hey, I ran into a female mori—one
of the council members.”
Vaust nodded. “Yes—Karrie, I assume?”
“You know her?”
The mori Templar nodded. “She was the one to nominate me when she
got onto the Council. We have a little history but I haven’t seen her in quite
some time. I’ll have to check in again now that I have an excuse.”
“Hey, Devol,” Jazai began as he approached his friend. “Have you seen
Asla?”
He nodded and pointed to a table in the corner. “Yeah, she’s with Veni.”
The scholar’s apprentice looked to where she at a table with the other
wildkin to welcome their new arrival. From what Devol had overheard, he
had not made a decision to join the Templar yet but being around some of his
kind again seemed to help his spirits, even if only a little.
“It’s quite a step for her,” Jazai said in a low voice before he sat next to
his friend. “So, Grand Mistress Nauru said she would give us time off to go
out and see the world and find our place and all that. Have you given it any
thought?”
He sipped his juice and shrugged. “I’ll go see my parents for now—I’ll
leave a while after the party dies down—but other than that, not so much.”
He smiled at Vaust and Jazai. “I don’t need to ‘find my place.’ I know I
belong here.”
“That’s good,” the mori responded, lifted a filled wine goblet off the
table, and brought it to his lips. “That means I filled my recruitment quota.”
“Do what?” Devol asked and looked at him in surprise. Vaust snickered.
Jazai knocked his shoulder with his fist. “It’s a joke, man,” he stated and
rolled his eyes at the mori. “As for me, I’ll go see my father. It’s been a
while. I’ll be back after a few weeks.”
“And what about Asla?” the swordsman asked and watched her as she
and the other wildkin helped to console Veni. “She lives here, right? Does
she have any plans?”
“Well, you can always ask her yourself before you leave,” Jazai pointed
out. “But I heard her mention that she was considering a visit to the wildkin
lands, so she might do some traveling,”
A wry grin appeared on Vaust’s face as he leaned closer. “She might fall
for some strapping cat boy or another. You might wanna consider that.”
 “Huh, why?” Devol asked and the diviner rolled his eyes again.
“Man, none of you are setting a good example, eh?” he chastised as he
flicked the mori’s wine glass.
“Oh, we certainly are,” the older Templar retorted and lifted the wine
glass to his lips. “That you should always celebrate a victory.”
“Our victory,” Jazai clarified and pointed a finger at himself and Devol.
“Correct, but we are all comrades in the Order so your victory is our
victory,” Vaust reasoned and downed most of the goblet.
The swordsman chuckled. “He has you there.”
His friend folded his arms. “Maybe so, for now.”
“Besides, do you think you can out-argue a drunk?” he asked and pointed
to Vaust’s gourd. “He takes a sip from that every few minutes, it seems like.”
The mori coughed like he was about to spit his wine out. He wiped his
mouth and looked at him. “You thought this was wine?”
Devol looked at him in confusion. “Yeah, if not that, then what is it?”
His two companions chuckled and the mori smoothed his hair. “I forget
how naïve you are when it comes to other realmers.” He popped open the top
of the gourd and tipped it toward the boy, who looked inside and saw some
kind of dark liquid with a faint glow to it.
“What is that?” he asked as Vaust closed it and put it next to his chair.
“It’s called amrita. It’s a liquid form of mana. My kind need it in other
realms as we are not as…adept when it comes to channeling the mana in the
air to replenish our stores and we can’t regenerate it as fast as you can.
Although I wonder sometimes if that is simply because you hold so much
less.”
“You seem to drink a lot of it,” Devol noted. “I didn’t see Karrie drink
anything like that, or anything at all, I suppose.”
Vaust shrugged. “Some of us have more of a taste for it than others and
more of a need.”
“You aren’t helping the comparison to an alcoholic, you know.” Jazai
snickered.
“All right, let’s break out the real good stuff!” Pete shouted as Rogo
hoisted him on his shoulders. “We probably won’t have another feast like this
in a good while, so let’s celebrate. Who’s with me, aye?”
Many in the crowd shouted, “Aye!” and some even went into the kitchen
and down to the cellars, much to the dismay of the chefs and staff. Jazai stood
and looked at one of the tables. “There is still more than enough food, but
once all that liquor truly gets to them, it will go fast. I think I’d better fill
another plate.” He looked at his friend. “Do you want anything?”
“I’m good for now. I think I’ll simply relax for a while.” He leaned back
in his chair.
The diviner nodded. “Good idea. You certainly deserve to,”
As Jazai walked away, he closed his eyes for a moment and drew a
contented breath.
“We all deserve to.”

When Devol opened his eyes again, the dining area had lost a couple of
dozen or more people. Some of the remaining Templars were asleep at the
tables and others chatted to one another. He realized that he had fallen asleep
in his moment of ease and when he looked beside him, both Jazai and Vaust
were gone. There were sounds of battle outside and he assumed Wulfsun had
eventually got his wish at some point.
He looked to his left. Asla picked at a piece of fish and she greeted him
with a wave. “Hello. I’m surprised you could sleep through all that chaos.”
“So am I,” he admitted and stood to stretch before he sat again. “I guess I
was more tired than I realized.”
“We were awake for almost two full days on top of everything we went
through during the trials,” she recalled and finished her fish. “I’m surprised
I’m still awake, honestly.”
“I’m glad you are,” he said, retrieved his glass, and filled it with the
remains of one of the containers of juice. “I wanted to say goodbye before I
left.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked. The shock in her voice made him realize
that he needed to clarify his somewhat open-ended statement.
“Only to Monleans!” he blurted and jerked his hands so fast that his juice
almost spilled. “To see my parents and maybe train with some of the guards
if I have the chance.”
“Oh, okay,” she said with a nod. “I had a feeling of dread there for a
moment.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He sipped the juice to lower the level of the liquid
from the rim before he placed it carefully on the table. “No, I know I belong
here. I wouldn’t have come this far otherwise. But I’ll be gone for a while
since the grand mistress is giving us a holiday.”
“I might be as well,” she revealed. “Veni needs to close the agency he
and his brothers were using. Freki and some of the others will go with him
and we might go to the capital after. It has been a long time since I’ve seen it
and I’m not sure what feelings it will bring.”
Devol sloshed the juice in his cup. “Would you like me to be there with
you?” he asked and surprised the wildkin. “I’m not sure what happened to
you before we met, but if you’re worried about…I don’t know, anything,
maybe I can help.”
“But what about your parents?” she asked.
“I can wait or maybe meet up with you later if you decide to go,” he
assured her.
Asla smiled at this and nodded. “I think that will be nice. We don’t depart
for a few days, so if you would like to join us then, I would like to show you
the wildkin kingdom.”
“That sounds great,” he said with a nod and pushed to his feet as she did
the same. “I told Jazai I’ll leave tonight and now seems as good a time as
any, especially since Wulfsun would probably rope me into a fight if he knew
I was awake.”
“Most likely,” she agreed and to his shock, pulled him into a hug, but it
was far from unwelcome. He returned the embrace and they took a moment
to look at one another before he nodded and extended his hand. Achroma
teleported to him from its position against the wall.
“I’ll be back soon, all right?” he said. She nodded wordlessly to him with
a smile as he put his jacket on and snuck out of the dining hall. He passed the
arena where Pete and Wulfsun were sparring. Nauru watched the bout and
nodded to the departing swordsman as he waved to her. The moon was out
and bright. He would arrive home fairly late and he wondered if his parents
were still awake.

“Devol!” His mother swept him into a strong hug. “What were you thinking
doing those trials?”
“What?” he asked as her warm embrace soon became bone-crushing.
“You knew?”
“That would be my fault,” Victor admitted sheepishly. “I talked about it
to some of the other guardsmen and forgot that Xena and your mother talk at
the market in the mornings.”
Lilli studied her son suspiciously. Fortunately, he had already been healed
at the castle or her worry would only have grown. “Well, you look all right.
Did you win?”
The boy nodded, took the marker out, and showed it to his parents, Victor
took it and examined it. “Is this your mana in the ‘O?’” he asked and he
nodded. “It’s so bright, exactly like Elijah’s,” he commented and flipped the
coin toward Devol, who caught it.
“I’m sorry about keeping it a secret, Mother,” he said as he put the coin
away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I should say!” she said, still fuming a little. “Making you trek through
those caves to find some beast to kill—that is extremely dangerous, Devol.”
He looked quizzically at her before his gaze darted to Victor, who held a
finger to his lips. It seemed his mother did not know the whole story, which
was probably best for now, even if he had survived.
They continued to talk as he was led into the dining room. It was a good
thing he hadn’t eaten his fill at the castle as his mother had also whipped up a
feast. Although they spent some time talking about the trials, Devol left out
most of the latter half and his run-in with Merri. He did tell them how he and
his friends all completed the events and were currently on holiday and
mentioned his plans to join Asla on a visit to the wildkin kingdom.
“Seriously?” His father looked thoughtful and stroked his beard. “I
haven’t been there since I was a lieutenant,”
“And you are going with Asla, correct?” Lilli asked, a coy smile on her
lips. “Well, that sounds wonderful.”
“What are your plans after that?” Victor asked. “You mentioned that the
grand mistress had decided to make you an official Templar now, but do you
have any plans for the near future?”
Devol considered this for a moment and thought about something that had
been at the back of his mind since before the trial. “Maybe not the near future
but something down the line, perhaps.”
“And what is that?” Lilli asked, served some cobbler onto a small plate,
and handed it to him.
“I’ve been thinking about Elijah—or rather the Astral Wanderer,” he
revealed and glanced at Achroma in the corner.
“And you want to meet him?” Victor asked. “It makes sense. After all, he
is your father and—”
“You are my father,” the boy said firmly and pointed to him. “Don’t
forget that, Guard Captain, all right?”
The man smiled, bit his lip for a moment, and turned away. “Still, I might
be able to send a letter and get him over here to—”
Devol shook his head. “I’m sure both you and the Templars could do that,
but if he hasn’t stopped by himself in all this time, he must be doing
something important.”
“Most certainly,” his mother agreed. “Then what were you thinking
about?”
He picked his fork up and cut a piece of cobbler off. “I think, in time, I’ll
go looking for the Astral Wanderer myself.”

The End
 S K H A R R D E AT H E AT E R

Are you reading the Skharr DeathEater Series from Michael Anderle? Book
one is The Unforgiven, and it’s available now at Amazon and through Kindle
Unlimited.
A lone DeathEater has forsaken his clan.
Leaving behind his previous life, Skharr starts
building a future next to a dangerous forest in an
unknown land.
He tells himself it is better than taking gold
for questionable reasons.
A lone old man traveling with a donkey offers
him a choice: Continue this farm life, or trade him
Skharr’s just finished home and tilled land for a
map.
A map that Skharr can use to live large for
years… If he survives.
The old peddler watches him.
Realizing the intelligence, the polished actions
of the huge man is but an act. A carefully
orchestrated semblance of civility, and shudders.
Of all the Barbarian hordes, the rumor was to never, ever upset a
DeathEater.
And he had come here to unleash this particular DeathEater back
into the world.

Grab your copy and start this epic adventure today!

A U T H O R N O T E S - M I C H A E L A N D E R LE
 JUNE 4, 2021

Thank you for not only reading this story but these author notes as well.
Following up on the results of the annoying protagonist of the last author
notes, I’m happy to say that book 02 and book 03 have turned out very
enjoyable.
At least for that character.
My collaborator threw another one of the main characters into the fire as
a reaction to something she did in book 02. So now, I had to stress out as I
watched her jump too far ahead and potentially put herself in dire danger
because…
Well, I can’t share that yet.
But she could die and die horribly. I’m starting to worry that maybe her
home life is screwing her around, and she is taking it out on the characters.
Not that I would be surprised if she had.
This is the end of this trilogy and the end of these stories at the moment.
Joshua Anderle (who also wrote The Animus series of 12 books) wanted to
write a story like this and I was game because ‘you never know what the fans
want.’
As a publisher, you need to keep pushing the boundaries (if you publish
as many stories a year as we do) just to see if you can uncover a great
connection between story and another group of fans to read it.
Besides sales, we have no way of knowing if these books are enjoyed by
you, the reader, unless you provide reviews or mention your enjoyment
through social media or email. I know Joshua (D’artagnan Rey) reads or
watches a lot of similar stories (manga etc.), and we wanted to see if we
could find an audience for a bit of a different storyline.
 THANK YOU so much for enjoying this trilogy. I’ll be working to find
the audience that loves it to give us another shot at doing books 04-06!
The Cover was a Pain.
Just as a side note. All of those flowers are hand-drawn, and our artist
provided much bit@#ing about how it took all day to paint it up. Since I love
the cover, I think it was time well spent. He likes the cover, but I think he
wished there was a faster way to accomplish his results.
I told him ‘Photoshop it.’
Isn’t that the answer to all things image? Like when you were in school
and got hurt. The PE coach told you to walk it off.
Like that was supposed to fix every pain?
Doubtful.
Do check out the Animus project with Joshua and I collaborating. It’s
available at Amazon and through Kindle Unlimited. Book one is Initiate.

See you later!

Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
B O O K S B Y D'A R TA G N A N R EY

The Astral Wanderer

A New Light (Book One)
Bloodflowers Bloom (Book Two)
The Oblivion Trials (Book Three)

Revenant Files
Back From Hell (Book 1)
Axeman: Cycle of Death (Book 2)
Jazz Funeral (Book 3)
 B O O K S B Y M I C H A E L A N D E R LE

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C O N N EC T W IT H M I C H A E L

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