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Gwen Song awoke to the melody of _Grande Valse_ blaring with the strength of an air siren. Reflexively, she groped for her smartphone, making the familiar sliding gesture to unlock. Instead, her vague fingers encountered the strange sensation of physical buttons. A moment of frantic fumbling ensured, then a sound began to stream: _“BBC World Service, September 21st, 2001: An ancient Red Dragon has destroyed a section of the London Metro, resulting in over two hundred dead and thousands injured, paralysing the city. Authorities have linked this latest incident to similar occurrences involving Magical Creatures carried out by the anti-tower cabal known as Spectre- Magister Livingstone, Mayor of London, calls the latest terrorist attack a day of infamy…”_ _More terrorism_ , Gwen groaned wistfully. Finally she found the mute button. Slowly, synapses dulled by Moet & Chandon ignited one by one. _Red Dragon?_ _What’s that, a new euphemism for WMDs?_ _Wait—_ Her mind performed a double-take. The date was correct. It was September twenty-first — but the year appeared to be missing a decade and a half. It had been 2017 when she stumbled into bed, but the report had said 2001. Regaining a measure of lucidity, she inspected the brick in her hand to confirm the date, only to be bemused by an alien device constructed of ceramic-seeming material, with a screen that looked nothing like back-lit LED. The only clue that it may be a Nokia was the bloody ringtone. She turned the device over. No logo. No ports. No battery sliders. This isn’t her iPhone. Her brain throbbed. Could she have been roofied? In her office, at her very own corporate party? That would be absurd. Even if she had, there were security guards and staff who were sober enough to send her to a hospital. Concurrently, her joints were on fire. She was dizzy and light-headed, hungry and hollowed out. Additionally, the sickening sting of digestive acids lapped at her throat. But for now, she chose calm over panic. She inspected her surroundings. Firstly, she was sleeping in a single bed. Secondly, she wasn't naked or anything. She wore her PJs, although, for some reason, her silk nightie had transformed into coarse cotton. A sloppy, cheap-looking duvet covered her body. The print was vaguely familiar—a horrid, half-faded floral design commonly used for IKEA curtains. The bedroom felt claustrophobic; the ceiling low and oppressive. Recognition dawned. Isn't this her old apartment? From when she was a kid? Why was she in the bedroom of her adolescence? What had happened to her bayside home? Her French-windows? The bedroom to which she now occupied had existed only in the distant past. She had been in high school, living with her divorced father. “Is this a lucid dream?!" she muttered to herself. Her voice! It was youthful and sweet and without the abuse of all-nighters, scalding coffee, and copious amounts of alcohol. She closed her eyes to think, but the memory of her last conscious hours was a scrambled mess of whites and yellows. Slowly, in fragments, recollections came. Here was her old home. Her original home. The apartment she’d grown up in as a girl-child. Over yonder was the fold-out desk she had piled her clean laundry on. Next to the cabinet was the basket for her dirty laundry. To her right was her study desk, which her father sometimes used as a Mahjong table. She could even see her study guides. But where she expected volumes on chemistry, physics and literature, she instead saw thick bound volumes with strange names. _Allenberg’s Primer for Astral Theory?_ _Otsu's Primer for Evokers?_ Without warning, her head split. "Ow!" A jackhammer ripped through the interior of her skull. Memories flooded her brain, bloating its synapses so that she felt as though two fingers were pressed against her optic nerves. If anything, the sensation was akin to the time she had forgotten to take her quinine tablets in the Amazon and had malaria shitting on her brain for a week. _I have an aptitude test today._ A stray thought boomed across Gwen's consciousness. _No, you don't,_ Gwen dissuaded the voice in her head. _You just had a staff party where you celebrated your consultancy's second anniversary. You drank and danced and forgot all about what champagne could do to a woman who was no longer in her twenties._ Unbidden, another thought solicited her stream of consciousness, accompanied by gut-wrenching anxiety. Her chest convulsed. She couldn't breathe. _Today is an important day._ _I need to go to the Awakening Test._ _Mother will be upset if I fail._ "Ugh!" Gwen fought back the acid reflux threatening to escape her oesophagus. _Jesus Christ_ , she cursed. Was she now suffering from paranoid schizophrenia? Dr Monroe never said anything about MPD disorders! "Shut up!" she threatened the ceiling. The voice ceased. She ran a hand over her forehead and found it drenched with perspiration. "Alright," she whispered to herself. Her mind remained sceptical even as her senses seemed helplessly invested in this new reality. Cynically, she pinched herself hard on the thighs until a welt appeared and her eyes moistened. "Shit," Gwen affirmed her worst fears. “Why is this happening?" Frustrated, she rubbed her eyes. Her fingertips came away with crusty chunks of dried mucus, which she crushed between her fingers. _Shit_ , had she been crying? _Click._ Her internal discourse was interrupted by an intruder. Instantly, her blood ran cold. She was trapped in a strange parallel world, who or what could be coming through that door? The door opened. It was her brother, Percy, who peeped in with a face still drugged with sleep. “Dad called and said you have to get up now,” he informed her. “It's your PMAE today.” She quietly regarded the boy, mindful of any buttons or cross-stitching that would reveal a skin-suit. Percy was her brother, an athletically-inclined adolescent with olive skin and large luminous eyes. He had the thick lips of their mother, taking after the family's mixed heritage. She pulled the cover over her collarbones and scowled at her brother. What kind of an idiot barges into the room of their teenage sister? She was hardly dressed for decency. "Oi! Get out of here!" she yelled angry nothings even as Percy yawned disinterestedly. With her brother gone, she pulled herself out of bed. A full-length mirror ran the length of her built-in-wardrobe. Now that she was up, she had to ensure that all the pieces of her body were present. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. What she saw was the reflection of a dark-haired girl who was a little underfed but reasonably proportioned. She had the pale skin and high cheekbones of her mixed father but had inherited her mother's eyes. Her striking irises, afflicted with central heterochromia, possessed an amber core bound by a ring of dark emerald, hinting at her cosmopolitan origins. Gwen pulled on her earlobes, watching her simulacrum wince. No luck. It wasn't a lucid dream. She was indeed back in her teenagehood. After a moment of deliberation, she removed her pyjamas for a more thorough inspection. When she had struck the big three-o, she had wondered about her adolescent body. Would she have loved or loathed it? Though her answer was ambivalent, what she found queer was her paleness. Her skin was unusually pallid, almost as if she'd rarely seen the sun. By her recollection, she had spent the whole summer of 2001 hawking ice cream at Bondi and learning to surf. As a result, she had been positively caramel. Compared to her old Billabong body, her present physique smacked of anorexia. Still, at a meter-eighty, she cast an impressive figure for a fifteen-year-old. As young as twelve, people had assumed she was older. She had been denied children’s fares at carnivals and accosted by boys who thought her their age. Once, a bloke at Bondi had propositioned her, offering to teach her about her maturing body. Gwen dug through the wardrobe and found something to wear, straight away arriving at a pair of cut-off jeans and a white tapered tee. The door opened again. It was Percy. “Why are you in your Sunday clothes?” he questioned in his youthful voice. “You need to be in your uniform for the Awakening.” At the mention of the word, another wave of nausea bowled her over. "Get out!" she hissed. Percy fled. She held herself against the mirror until the buzzing went away. A little immodestly, she performed a self-examination, concluding that it wasn't that time of the month. "Fine, I'll go to the damned test." She told her reflection. "Happy now?" She searched through her wardrobe again and located her school blouse and skirt. She remembered being horrid at chores, so it must have been her brother who had collected and packed the laundry. Making a note to thank young Percy, she Googled her fragmented memory and found the school blazer hanging in a separate section of the closet. She inspected the result. The Blackwattle High School senior uniform was a little loose around the bust but appeared otherwise handsome and prim. A grey-white tartan skirt, a navy blazer, and a white blouse gave the costume the feeling of a private academy. There was a vest as well, but Gwen had forgone it for reasons of budget. _D-Ding!_ An alarm went off on her phone. “You’re going to be late for the train!” her brother called out. Gwen opened the door to see Percy with a piece of toast packed in foil, the acrid smell of Vegemite and cheese polluting the air. “Thank me later.” He grinned, revealing pearly white teeth. “Cheers,” she replied, her teenage voice sounding strange as it reverberated through her skull. She needed more time to collect herself, but the urgency of having to attend the Aptitude Test hastily drove her through the door. Following an internal compass, she managed to board a train for the city. The streets of Sydney's CBD were the same old familiar concrete and bitumen, but the transportation had shifted from the grumble of fossil fuel into the thrum of humming mana cores. For the moment, Gwen was glad that no airships sailed across the horizon, completing the vision of a dystopian Weimar Metropolis. The journey towards Blackwattle Bay proved enlightening. In her brave new world, trains ran on ley-lines, fed into a network of mana conduits known simply as the Grid. All around her, geo-dynamic mana powered the city's infrastructure, the most important of which were the Shield Barriers. _A shield what?_ She pinched her brows. Shuddering memories informed her that humanity was hardly safe in this world, that despite the rule of Mageocracy over the Earth, much of it remained under the control of Demi-humans and Magical Creatures. Hell, there wasn’t even an aviation industry thanks to the presence of predatory monsters ruling the skies. The average man could only survive in secured enclaves, sheltered against the unknowable world beyond the Shield Barriers. Despite wearing her blazer, Gwen shivered uncontrollably. Apathetic to her distress, the silent carriage dumbly made its way on enchanted rails into the heart of the city. She disembarked at Pyrmont, finding herself among like-patterned uniforms walking to school. The day was Saturday, the day of the Aptitude Test, A.K.A. “The Awakening”. “Awakening” to what though? _Magic._ _M-Magic?! Mages? Spells?_! Gwen shook her head, attempting to make sense of her new lexicon. Where the hell had she ended up? Was this budget Hogwarts? _You’re a Witch, Gwen?_ With great agitation, she trawled her mind again, fishing the flotsam and jetsam of her fragmented memory. One by one, details emerged. Where her old world had had the SAT and the HSC, this world had the dreaded Projected Magical Aptitude Exam, or PMAE for short, undertaken to segregate Mages from the multitudes. As it stood, the vast majority of humanity were non-magical citizens, lovingly denominated as "NoMs". In a world of Spellcraft, NoMs lived in the Mages’ shadow, living diligent lives as administrators, service personnel, labourers for manufactorums and bodies for the frontlines. For the mundane citizen, ascension was improbable. For those with a magical lineage, one could additionally become a Magus or Magister, whose rare convergence of sorcerous, physical and intellectual potential ensured a charmed life. _I can't fail the test!_ _Okay! Fine!_ Gwen assured her spirit of PMAE past. She ruminated on her new knowledge. _So… apartheid._ Gwen bit her lower lip as the unpleasant epiphany traversed her mind. Moreover, her imminent ordeal seemed especially dubious. Was her memory informing her that a single test determined if she would be a worker ant or an august queen? That seemed ridiculous to Gwen, whose old world at least entertained the illusion of egalitarian meritocracy. The PMAE appeared solely based upon manifest destiny. Even assuming she passed, what of the life she had been living one inebriation prior? She had worked tirelessly to build a company of her own, collecting devoted staff over a decade. They’d just had their second anniversary, and she'd only recently acquired the Lendlease account. Fuming, Gwen trudged with resentment towards her destination. In the distance, the Blackwattle campus appeared more extraordinary than her memory served. An entire wing of buildings appeared appended to the existing sandstone facade that loomed over the bay. Concurrently, the Fish Market next door bustled with semi-magical bounty, disseminating an ignoble stench of discarded seafood. “Gwen!” A chirpy voice rang out from the multitude of bobbing heads walking the steep incline up toward the school's gymnasium. She turned to see a spry Asian girl rushing towards her, two imposing masses rioting as she ran, her face plump with adorable baby fat. “Gwen-Gwen!” The girl embraced her before landing a quick peck on her cheek. “Ooo! I missed you so much! I am beyond happy that we're seniors together!" She recognised the overfamiliar girl as Yue, a Shanghainese girl whose family had immigrated from the southern capital. Yue’s china-doll face was milk white and porcelain, punctuated by the small pink of her mouth. Her eyes, two luminous crescents beset by prominent lashes, seemed to swallow Gwen with their softness. The sight of a friend she had not seen for a decade took the words right out of her mouth. Yue Bai had been her closest and dearest friend back in high school, though they had drifted apart when Gwen escaped her home. “It's only been a month.” She smiled back, hiding the fact that the original Gwen wasn't in the driving seat. Though faint and spectral, she could sense her alter ego hovering around somewhere in the dark recess of her brain like the Ghost of Banquo, only she hadn’t done anything to warrant its unpleasant haunting. Beside her, Yue began an endless stream of small talk. Gwen listened as her old friend chittered excitedly about the latest gossip—who had been tested for what; who had been picked for which scholarship; what was the best element was to pair with which School of Magic. When the duo finally made their way into the hall, the rest of the student body was already waiting in the auditorium. The headmaster and the instructors were in militant dress uniforms that reminded Gwen of decorated veterans on ANZAC Day. She scanned the hall for more familiar faces but was quickly shuffled into place by a prefect. Upon the podium, the principal addressed the assembly. “Students, staff, members of the chancellory, welcome to the 2001 PMAE. This exam is carried out statewide on Spellcraft course Year ten students. In a moment, you will be asked to approach the dais and place your hand on the Awakening Crystal…” A murmur spread across the auditorium as the officious announcement reverberated through the air. The principal, a raven-haired man of advanced age, spoke sonorously over the assemblage. She recognised the man as Magus Jules Bartlett, principal of Blackwattle. Under the man's watchful eye, generations of Acolytes came and went, all remembering the ever-present personage that was Principal Bartlett at the gates, 0700 sharp, dutifully greeting each student. Amiable and approachable, the principal was a man fond of oration. “Students! Young Mages! The Path of Spellcraft is glorious but fraught with danger and risk! Upon the Path, many trials shall beset you—forbidden knowledge, creatures horrid and savage, Demi-humans cruel and heartless!" The students broke into a murmur. “For now, your lives are peaceful - but make no mistake, let not your daily comfort confuse you. We are beset on all sides by forces far greater than humanity itself. Compared to the creatures of the Wildlands, we are weak. Compared to the creatures of the Deep, we are few. Compared to the beings of the Elemental Planes, we are mortal!" "Yet WHY is it that man persists upon the Material Plane? Why has man survived the aeons to establish our civilisation on Earth against all the odds? It is because, through the application of Spellcraft, we are _strong_! We, the human race, are united in our mastery of _sorcery_!" Abruptly, the principal’s voice took on a new intensity and volume. "The PMAE is only the first step, but it is a significant one. It will define who you are and what you aspire to be. Do not fret; there is a place in our world for everyone. No matter your talent, you will be appreciated! The survival of one contributes to the survival of all!" Thunderous applause filled the auditorium as the students roared their collective approval. Though confused, Gwen clapped alongside, not wanting to appear the stranger. "All of you already possess magical affinity; your studies in junior high have proven that you are worthy to be Mages,” the principal announced confidently, “Some of you, perhaps, may even become Magus! But know that be you Citizen, Mage, Magus, or Magister: only united, can human civilisation push back the tide of the Wildlands seeking to subsume us." Compared to the earlier clamour, the applause grew demure. Gwen wondered if each student was thinking of their chances at the hands of Fortuna, pondering whether they would awaken to glory or slumber in anonymity. To her understanding, the principal had told a compelling truth. Who would not wish to possess the power of destruction and creation? Who would not desire to wield the raw elements of nature, to freeze one's foes with shards of eldritch ice, to blast apart the monsters that threatened one's home? But it wasn't the old Gwen who now had to face the music. It was her, and Gwen realised she had no idea what was going on. The only sensation she truly felt was numbness—numb for the world she found herself in, stunned by the chaotic emotions smothering her over and over. Survival of humankind? Magic to rule the world? She was in her PJs an hour ago!

The whole thing feels like a cult, Gwen cynically assessed the assemblage of students and staff. All around her, the cohort separated into rows standing before ten crystal spheres. The 'Awakening Crystals' reminded her of E-meters she saw once on Castlereagh St. These students, who had already had their affinity affirmed, were being tested for their aptitude for different Schools of Magic. The procedure was simple enough. A student stood in front of the stone and placed their hand atop the sigil sensing crystal. The crystal then expanded its magical energies after completing the circuit, sending mana back into the recipient. Whatever Glyph the indicator reciprocated then betokened the student's proficiency in a School of Magic. At least that's what her alter-self recalled. According to her memories, official Spellcraft theorems privileged a trifactor of conditions impacting a Mage's talents: their natural affinity for a particular School of Magic; the Element they attuned to, and finally their natural born intelligence for manipulating Spellcraft. Either of the three could be developed later in life, but as humans had limited lifespans and dubious willpower, those born with a headstart rose to the top of Spellcraft society with accelerated ease. As far as she knew, there were seven primary schools of Spellcraft: Evocation, Transmutation, Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, and Illusion. Each had their specialities, and each manifested a particular arcane phenomenon unique enough to be called a ‘school’. Other schools existed but were unique to bloodlines, cultures, and religious mythos. “OH MY God, Gwenie, I am nervous as hell.” Yue clutched onto Gwen’s arm with a force rivalling that of the proverbial koala, known for having a grip strength many times its body mass. “What do you want to awaken as?” Gwen shook herself from the dizzying remembrance. Spellcraft, Schools of Magic, Monsters, none of it made any sense to her. “Evocation of course,” Yue squealed. “The cardinal rule of all magic is firepower, followed by firepower, and finally, some more firepower!” “That would be pretty nice,” Gwen answered blankly. “Firepower for sure.” “When we go out there during the Field Trip, we can blast away everything with impunity!” Yue’s expression was dreamy and hopeful, her face flushed with enthusiasm. “Field Trip?” “... You know, going outside the Shield Barrier, kicking ass…” “And?” “And KILL SHIT!” Yue made an evil looking grin, probably already dreaming of carcasses flinging through the air after a particularly robust pyrotechnical display. “Muscle-headed idiots,” a voice interjected beside them. The speaker was a bronzed-skinned teen wearing a uniform one size too small. Her tartan skirt exposed her upper thighs, and they could see her bra strap against the taut-fabric of her white blouse. Her hair was dyed with a pink tip, though her natural colour would have been an alluring auburn brunette. “What are you looking at?” the girl snapped. Gwen felt struck by a strange sense of déjà vu. That catty demeanour was almost endearing. She wracked her brain until starcrossed memories of two lifetimes converged, revealing that the hot-topic with the resting bitchface was Debora. Holy shit, Gwen mouthed silently. Debora Jones! Good grief - that takes her back! As far as she could recollect, Debora was the faction leader of what was dubbed the bimbos by the egg heads, and ‘hotties’ by the boys in general. She had been friends with Gwen during primary school, but their friendship drifted apart once puberty kicked in. In her old life, Debora was obsessed with Gwen because they were both as tall as one another, even more so than the late-blooming boys. When Gwen’s parents divorced, Debora had ceased to be a priority. "Debbie-" Gwen began, but Yue was way ahead of her. “I bet you’ll awaken in the school of the whore…” Yue remarked rudely. Her eyes scanned Debora's scandalous uniform. "Slut." Gwen stared at Yue with genuine shock. Only now was she recalling that Yue was a mad dog when it came to cat fights. The petite Asian girl had a temperament like forty-grit sandpaper. She wasn't one to mince words when insults were needed. Her fiery disposition and foul mouth were matched only by her bust. “My uncle and my father are both Transmuter Mages,” Debora retorted effortlessly. “What about yours? Conjuration specialising in boats? People like you should go back to where you come from.” “This stupid Gweilo…” Yue let loose a string of unwelcome syllables that was half Chinese and somewhat English, “I'll awaken as a fire Evoker and burn your whore (whole) house down.” She could probably do it. Gwen perspired nervously. Damn Yue, you scary! “You chicks gonna start pulling some hair, ripping some blouses?” came another voice from beside them. It was a boy with an utterly forgettable face, an acquaintance of Yue’s from the same primary school, one of those faces you never bothered to speak to on the bus. His eyes moved between the girls lasciviously. When he gawked at Gwen, her gaze made him choke on his next words. “Piss off you loser.” Debora scowled cattily. “Come on people, make or break moment here.” A Prefect stepped in between them. “You’re all nervous, I get it, but don't forget your humility and manners as students of Blackwattle.” Good luck with that, Gwen mused at the Prefect's words. Blackwattle was a Government run school. There were no distinguishing hallmarks other than a campus that overlooked the harbour of Sydney's industrial zone. Most of the time, the campus smelled faintly of fish. "Go fuck yourself," Yue added testily before turning away. The boy's eyes met the Prefect's, who shrugged. Gwen and Yue watched as students approached the dais, legs quivering and fingers shaking, placing their hands on the crystal. Flashes of indistinct colour indicated schools of magic and elemental affinities, following which the students had their I.D Cards registered after a brief vis-a-vis with the Instructors. Debora’s name came, and she stepped forward towards the crystal. One could see that despite all her bluster, her well-exposed stalks still shook from anxious anticipation. The surfer girl placed her hands on the crystal and waited. From Gwen's ignorant perspective, a glow entered into Debora's hand and permeated into her body. Then it recycled through the crystal, causing the stone to illuminate. After a few moments, the glass atop the device glowed with a glyph indicating the School of Transmutation, its soft brown halo indicating an Earthen affinity. Debora signed with relief, though she still felt a little disappointed that she was no more talented than her father predicted. She had wanted the School of the Evoker or Conjurer, to be a bright star upon the battlefield, a blazing tempest of power and fury. “Your turn, Shorty." Debora looked over at Yue before walking from the platform. “What an annoying bimbo,” Yue blustered, trying to mask the demons wreaking havoc in her chest. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. “Good luck.” Gwen’s own heart was pounding against her ribcage, quickening her breath and flushing her cheeks bright pink. From what she could gather so far, this Awakening ordeal was an extraordinary moment of exceeding importance. A few more students came and went. When it was Yue’s turn, she made her way to the top of the platform and placed her hand on the assigned crystal. The same glow enveloped her small frame; Yue squirmed as the mana completed its circuit. When the radiance returned, it became a blazing glow of ochre, so bright that it illuminated half the auditorium. A collective gasp emitted from the assembly. “Evocation with a high tier Fire talent!” an Instructor called out incredulously. “It's tier 4 affinity at least!” The news was both welcome and remarkable for the pedestrian populous of Blackwattle. Generally speaking, only bloodlines that had generations of Mages who practised the same style was more prone to producing high-affinity talents. Those with affinities often inter-married, generating greater chances of begetting offspring with ever more prominent sympathies for a school or element. As far as anyone knew, Yue was a regular migrant fleeing the Magical Beasts. For Gwen, the shock was doubly so, as she knew Yue's mother was a NoM. Her friend's common heritage was precisely why she was causing such a stir, could Yue's Awakening mean the rise of a future House? Observing Yue's serendipitous stardom seemed to trigger another bout of anxiety within Gwen. She was glad that a single piece of toast was all she had for breakfast. The room erupted into applause. Yue gave a smug look toward the red-faced Debora, who quickly left to speak to her coordinator. Yue’s fire affinity inferred that with sufficient training, her fire spells would be less costly and more powerful. Though not precisely stellar at lower tiers, should Yue make it to the rank of Magus or Magister, her spells would be stronger, more efficient, and manifest faster than her peers. As for her immediate future, her greatest advantage lied in the fact that Evocation Mages could hunt monsters from the get-go. For Yue, the future was flaming bright. “Congratulations Yue!” Gwen was happy for her friend but found herself thrust aside by the crowd of students and instructors who surrounded the newly crowned Queen of Flames. “Next!” “Evoker, tier 1 Water.” “Oh, God! Please give me another go! I don’t want to be a fireman…” “Remove him!” “Next!” “Abjuration, tier 1 Earth!” “Next!” “No reaction! I am sorry.” "NOOOOO!" “Next!” “Transmutation, tier 2 Air! An Air Mage!” “Yes! Just what I wanted!” “Congrats mate!” "Cheers!" “Evocation!” “Divination!” “Evocation!” “Conjuration! Tier 1 water!” “Oh, hell yeah!” The crowd murmured and congratulated the newly minted Conjurer. Conjuration Mages were extremely powerful once they found their Familiars. In a place with as much water as Coastal Sydney, a Water Conjurer could go far. Gwen felt another bout of irritation stripping her stomach-lining. According to her alter-ego, one's Primary school of magic determined the most synergetic school that would be available to a caster. To train one’s second school required painstaking repetition, and only those with the talent, experience, and luck of surviving mortal combat ever attained the rare opportunity to master a school beyond the first. Most Mages remained between tiers 1 to 5 in a single School, happy with the gainful employment offered by the state's many institutions. The risking of life and limb, after all, wasn't for everyone. The world outside the city might be full of monsters, but behind man's Barrier Shields, they could live in relative peace. “Gwen Song,” called out a voice that sounded to Gwen like a death knell. The moment of truth, Gwen muttered to herself. She made her way to the platform and placed her hand on the crystal. “Relax,” advised the Instructor. You RELAX, Gwen thought, I don't even know what the hell I am doing. Gwen's hand touched the cold stone. In an instant, she felt herself on the verge of collapse. Her clammy perspiration glued her blouse to her pallid skin. She had no idea what was going to happen, and her heart felt as though it was trying to shut itself down. Get a grip! Gwen willed herself, but her body was neglectful of her command; whatever mental synapses that were firing within her physical form was entirely outside of her mental domain. “Don't be so nervous, place your hand firmly on the crystal,” the instructor commanded. With vague and trembling fingers, Gwen gripped the crystal. The mana jolted her hand like a static shock, it travelled red hot up her arm and into her body, invading her spine and filling her veins with molten lead. Her world seemed to expand, her consciousness enveloping the room and extending beyond her physical self. She saw within her mind's eye arcane Sigils that represented the different schools, each cognitive illusions created by her Spellcraft-indoctrinated mind, fabricated by ingrained knowledge to make sense of the senseless, to visualise the incomprehensible. The mana coiled and flowed, connecting her Astral form to her physical body. Evocation! Evocation! Evocation! Come on! Gwen's dearest wish was to stick close to Yue until she could figure this world out for herself. Then a bright Sigil bloomed in her mind. A golden glow. But Gwen had no idea what the visions meant. Then another sigil flared. A bright and piercing beacon of light. What the hell does that even mean? Gwen hissed with frustration. Do I touch it? Or talk to it? Isn't there a supposed to be a voice asking me if I want power? What if she had to go to a different campus? Gryffindor! Not Slytherin! Then another shade, blue this time, and yet another, a bright orange, a purple mauve, a pale lilac- The Sigils were beyond comprehension now; they seemed to amalgamate into a quickened form of crystalline brightness, brighter than anything Gwen had seen. The colours blurred and became a nimbus, a twin world of light and darkness. Then as quickly as it began, light and darkness split. There was now two nebulous figures standing side by side. What the hell is happening? Gwen tried to orientate herself within the light fantastic. What the hell did I Awaken? Some strange new school? I better not have awoken something weird! An abduction by a government agency after less than twenty-four hours in this world would be the worst. Gwen opened her eyes and looked for her instructor. Maybe he could provide some guidance as to what her affinities are. “Oh My God!” “Eek! Aeeee!” “I can’ believe it!” “Why God? Why not me!!!” The room became wild with excitement. Though it wasn't for Gwen. Gwen’s instructor regarded her colourless crystal. “Er…” “We have a Biomancer!” someone positively shrieked. “Elvia can tap into the Plane of Positive Energy!” A green glow was fading from the other side of the auditorium, the student body crowding around a small girl even shorter than Yue. From her timid posture and gentle face, Gwen recognised the girl as Elvia Lindholm. The bookish blonde girl had been the invisible sort, though now her presence captivated the auditorium. A Biomancer. Clerics were a rare bird in any neck of the woods as it required simultaneous affinities for both Evocation and Conjuration Schools. The essential caveat though was possessing the Positive Elemental trait. Elvia - made special by a twist of fate, had become a cherished class of individuals existing beyond social strata, for the Frontier was always short on healers. “O happy day!” the Principal harkened loudly. "Congratulations! Miss Lindholm!" There had not been a natural healer in the school for almost a decade. Having a healer like Elvia meant Blackwattle would receive a funding boost. The administration would have to hire a specialist to teach her, and the Education Department would be obliged to provide the very best. A school with two healers, a master and student duo! They would be the envy of almost every other school in the district! Usually, only the Selective class of schools had trained arcane healers. The regular school nurse was just a quasi-Cleric trained in applying remedy gels and administering potion-injectors. Back in the real world, Gwen's instructor faced her with an awkward, apologetic expression. “I am sorry Gwen.” Her crystal possessed a transparent glow that was more daylight than any distinct colour. “You have very low affinity…” the man noted. "Furthermore, I don't see a Sigil or an element...” What? What do you mean you don't see a Sigil? I saw them! I saw all of them! Those squiggly worm-like arcane marks, right? The things that looked like hieroglyphics married into the Hebrew alphabet. “It's strange but not unheard of,” the Instructor continued. "We're all made differently." The instructor’s unwelcome decree was like a death sentence. Gwen felt a cold shiver of dreadful premonition hang over the nape of her neck like a raised guillotine. “Well, the transparent nimbus shows that you can tap into the Planes and channel mana,” the Instructor stated with a tone of surety. "But you don't have any affinity, it seems. I am afraid you have what we call a null-base." Not synergistic? Gwen searched through the brief impulse of her memory. In a moment the anxiety attack that had been kept at bay by her curiosity returned with a crippling force, striking her as though a concussive blow had been dealt. Gwen had to hold onto the pedestal to keep herself steady. Synergy was a matter that related to how fast a Mage was able to progress in their schools. It also determined the variability of hybrid magic that Mages mastered as they choose their second, and eventually third schools. A poor synergy meant poor mana conversion efficiency. No matter how hard Gwen trained, she would be far behind those with innate talent. "Careful now." The instructor arrested Gwen's shoulder. A flood of memories assaulted her conscious. Her family was still reeling from a messy separation; her father was a useless waste of space. Her mother had fully expected Gwen to awaken in something rare and precious. What was this absurd plot twist? What difficulty had her rebirth been cranked? Try as she might, the compelling force of conditioned biochemistry held fast her trembling body. Wasn’t she supposed to be overpowered? Why isn’t everyone shouting and screaming that she was the Girl who Lived? Gwen beheld at her instructor, dumbfounded. “I am sorry Gwen,” the man repeated with a sympathetic face. "But it looks like you’re just a common Mage.”

“So, what do I do?” Gwen's trembling lips begged for an answer. By now, her eyes were moist with the distress of her devastating evaluation. The pitiful look she projected gave the instructor such a pang of guilt that he felt his iron mien falter. After all, the girl's future was nothing if not bleak. But the crystal told no lies. Whatever it had presented at its conclusion, was whatever the poor sorceress drew for her lot in life. “You should be able to cast basic spells without issues,” the Instructor attempted to soothe her confusion with a delicate tone. "Having no affinity also means you have no real drawbacks for accessing different schools, so you could work on being a utility Mage, maybe a machine operator?" The look of chilling despair on the girl's frail, white face bespoke her desolation. “Look.” He glanced over at Yue and Elvia, still being congratulated by her fellow students. “You’re close friends with the Fire girl right?” “Yes Sir,” Gwen replied, still stunned by her commonness. What was the point of being taken from her perfectly fine life, only to be thrust into a mediocre role in the midst of a eugenic apartheid? Gwen couldn't help but be reminded of an old Bard's musing - that as flies to wanton boys are mortals to the Gods, they pull our wings for sport. Was it mere chance that she was plucked from the apex of her life in Sydney and deposited into this depressing canyon of despair? If there was 'sport' in it, it was certain at her expense. “I'll put you down as Evocation since you will have access to it. It's also the cheapest and most time efficient to train, but from here on out it's going to be just you. The school will provide what we can of course, but…” The look on the instructor’s told her more than she needed to know. It was no concern for the school to include her as a low-tier student. All low tier students received the same resources anyway until they could somehow distinguish themselves. She would be one more in a sea of nameless faces that dotted the place like the decor. “Thank you, Sir,” Gwen answered finally, unsure if her Instructor had helped her or prolonged her suffering. The Instructor nodded and jotted down in his scribe pad her new classification. Gwen Song - Tier 1 Evoker. “Good luck.” The rest of the grade soon passed their examination. The junior Mages were assigned to their respective Schools of Magic. Gwen was in Class II. As promised, she was in Yue's class. To their surprise, the new darling of the grade, Elvia Lindholm, was also included in class II. Thankfully, Debora was in Class III. Looking around, Gwen saw vaguely familiar faces who ignored her. The snub was unpleasant. Her unique family drama over the last two years meant that she seldom had time for friends. For now, however, she had bigger problems, like the fact that she was a wayward soul stolen from across space and time then untimely deposited in a delicate body. She was one amongst thirty students who were Evokers. It was, after all, the staple of Mages everywhere. Beside the group were the rarer Mages, an assortment of Abjurers, a few Transmuters, two low-affinity Diviners, one low-affinity Enchanter, and so on. The specialists who emerged were: Yue, tier 4 Fire Evoker Jasmine, tier 2 Ice Evoker Owen, tier 2 Earthen Enchanter Juergen, tier 2 Water Illusionist Patrick, tier 1 Water Conjurer And of course, the creme de crop, Elvia the Tier 2 Biomancer. The whole thing seemed absurd to Gwen, whose old world was driven by the basic tenet that everyone got a fair shake of the sauce bottle. It was all well and good if one won the genetic lottery, but what about the NoMs? What about people like her whose talent sucked? Were they doomed to be forever denied a spot in the sun? She wanted to say something snide, to express the displeasure and frustration that was ripping her chest apart - but she became struck by yet another epiphanic revelation. Humanity wasn't alone in this world. This world never had significant wars fought between humans. The Great War was against an Undead incursion that saw the loss of almost twenty per cent of Humanity's land mass to Necromantic Magical Beings. Conversely, the Second World War happened in the 70s, triggered by the awakening of an ancient dragon. In that bout, Humanity lost another swath of cities and fortresses, effectively cut them off from the Pacific Ocean and isolating man into City-states. In the three decades since a few fallen cities had been reclaimed and stabilised with barriers, but Man had never escaped the existential crisis of being wiped out by an attack from the great unknown. In fact, her current residence, the Frontier City of Sydney, was one such reclaimed port of call. Originally lost in 1940 to the Coral Sea War, the coastal areas of Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne were returned to human dominion by the might of the Commonwealth Mageocracy, lead by an English-Chinese-American expedition. The city became thus repopulated by refugees and volunteer forces from the Commonwealth and the diasporic Micronesian nations. As with all Frontiers, supplies were constrained. Maintaining the Shield Barriers served as the primary preoccupation of any city. What meagre resources remained were then channelled into the city's systems to be redistributed. When Gwen underwent her junior examination, she had shown no particular aptitude for Magic and had to attend a regular school that taught basic level theory and prep. That had proved a moment of significant disappointment for her mother, who'd expected her to be a prodigy. Her brother Percy, conversely, had the making of something special, registering a mana signature as young as 10. He was enrolled currently at The Sydney College of Magic for Boys, a 'Selective' government institution. All in all, what it meant was that she would be starved of resources, which made escaping mediocrity yet more difficult. In the old world, Gwen had been no stellar student either, but that never stopped her believing that she would do well in life. There was always merit in networking, taking risks, and catching the right business opportunities. In this world, however, Gwen felt her insides atrophy. What the hell was she supposed to do? Virtually everything in this world relied on some knowledge or affinity for magic. Even the wealthiest of the NoMs served a particular House, Clan or Faction. Self-sufficiency for one without immense talent was nigh-impossible. “Gwen!” A familiar voice shook her from her nightmarish introspection. It was Yue. “We’re both Evokers!!” The jubilant Asian girl hugged Gwen’s arm gleefully, sinking Gwen's bony elbow between pillowy mounds. With a tier 4 affinity, her friend's future was as bright as a fireball. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Was it possible to eke out a living away from Spellcraft? As with all clickbait rhetoric, the answer was 'no'. If she gave up Spellcraft, she would be a woman of no importance, a worker ant in a hive of indifferent activity. Without background and lineage, she would be transparent. Her only worth would be as a pretty face in the crowd. When the creatures come for the cities, she would cower in the bunker with the other civilians, awaiting death or salvation. What kind of stupid life would that be? Who aspires to become cannon fodder, behaving as the wind behaves? Feeling Yue press against her icy body, Gwen stifled a sigh. She hugged her friend, stealing some of Yue's warmth. It was stupid to give up so soon, Gwen informed herself. Hadn't the years already taught her that? She wasn't a girl-child out of home for the first time. If she could strike out alone at sixteen and make it then, she could surely do it again. Isn't that what Ol' Blue Eyes said? If I can make it there. I'll make it anywhere? So what if life gave her lemons? She's going to make lemon sorbet and key lime pie! She's going to work it until she spewed blood. No one was born an Archmage. The Path, as they say, was three-quarters risk and reward and one-quarter talent. If she died, then hell, maybe she can wake up back home in her bayside bed! A plan began to form in her mind. “I agree, Yue, it's going to be great,” Gwen announced to her friend, who was already daydreaming about the academic term to come. “Yeah!” Yue grinned from ear to ear, caring not in the slightest the look of dour jealousy and calculated guilt staining Gwen’s brow. “We’re gonna be the dynamic duo! The Evoker sisters of Blackwattle!” Yue uttered jubilantly. "Dynamic Duo!" Gwen echoed, swallowing her pride. The newly formed classes slowly converged into their assigned groups. Now that aptitudes results were assigned and recorded, classes would resume in their new configurations within the week. For Spellcraft students, boarding on campus was compulsory. The weekend was so that they got to return home and sort out parental notifications. To Gwen, the ordeal reeked of overreach and authoritarianism. Should a parent deprive the State of a much-needed body, stiff penalties applied. With a feeling of ambivalence, Gwen said goodbye to an unwilling Yue and returned home to deliver; she supposed, the bad news. When she once again boarded the tram, Gwen realised the day was still young. As it was still mid-noon, she decided to take the opportunity to engage in some academic research on her current condition. She switched trams for the State Library, northward of Hyde Park. As a Spellcraft student, her new I.D card allowed her limited viewing of closed resources on magical lore. Not knowing where she must begin, Gwen withdrew several rudimentary tomes to dispel some of her ignorance. In the past, she had been a troubled high school student, though university quickly saw her talent for academia blossom. She quickly scanned through the necessary volumes and found that she was already familiar with the knowledge. It was more so that she couldn't coax her long-term memory to regurgitate the information she needed. The reading of basic lore, therefore, acted as a trigger to bring forward a decade of schooling. As knowledge new and old agonisingly conjoined, she came to realise that she was in one hell of a pickle. First of all, in this world, Spellcraft was kept behind closed doors. Beyond the first few tiers of magic, there existed little to no information on an efficient method of training. Knowledge beyond the high school syllabus was well restricted in a world without Wikipedia, or an Encyclopedia, for that matter. Here was a world where tertiary level knowledge was given exclusively to those who were meritocratically proven. In the old world, she could Google in five minutes the theory behind nuclear fission. In this world, she had better make it to university before learning anything beyond tier 3 magic. All in all, there were 9 tiers of Spellcraft, classified as spells, rites, and strategic-class rituals. Thanks to modernised Spellcraft theorems, elemental affinity directly impacted the effect of spells. Moreover, magical phenomena were transmogrified by Spirits and Meta-magic, creating a vast array of spells near-impossible to document. By the same measure, professional instruction came in the form of Master and Apprentice. For one in Gwen's present condition, the Instructions given to the masses served only to produce fodder Mages necessary for filling gaps in the battle lines. Even when one was lucky enough to employ a Master, few Magisters were willing to teach the secrets of their craft to anyone but a legitimate heir. Nonetheless, Gwen kept on reading. Spellcraft was the manifestation of magic. Casting a spell was achieved via incantations. Incantations, consisting of both oral and somatic components, served to trigger mnemonic procedures necessary for shaping arcane energies. The source of a Mage's power was their Astral Soul, perceived in deep meditation as one's Astral Body. An Astral Body's affinity for specific Schools of Magic manifests as Sigils. One's Sigil shaped the mana from the Elemental Gate. From Fire, Water, Earth, to more exotic powers such as Dust, Magma and even Radiance. Thus a Spell begins in the form of raw spiritual energy or Mana emitted by the Astral Body. The Mage's elemental affinity supplements this energy through one's Elemental Gate. Simultaneously, invocations shape the energy as it courses through a Mage's mana conduits, exiting the body as the desired phenomena. The process was simple enough in theory, but the problem lay with the exponential complexity of spells as they increased in tiers. A tier one spell was a little more than a single incantation. A tier two spell had three incantations. A tier three spell had nine, and tier four spell a whopping twenty-seven. Each existed as a highly complex pattern of thought that must be fluidly delivered through the correct pronounciation. If a spell failed, the Mage suffered mana burn. Usually, failure resulted in dizziness and nausea; with higher spells, the caster could be incapacitated. At its extremity, the invoker may be reduced to a blithering idiot. In this manner, complex phenomena were incredibly challenging to manifest, as the mana requirement was proportional to the risk of failure and self-harm. Gwen tried to imagine an Archmage casting a legendary tier nine spell, using old world algorithms to crunch the numbers. 6561 incantations, performed mentally without failure or pause. By Pythagoras! She sucked in a cold breath of air. No wonder there were only a handful of these individuals in the world. A dozen Mages out of five billion human beings were capable of becoming arcane Super Computers. Gwen read on. There was a section on affinity for Schools of Magic. It would appear that Mages were born with affinities for particular forms of magical phenomena. Evokers, the most common, were adept at releasing energy. Conjurers were best at coalescing and calling forth objects and creatures. Abjurers could create solid matter as barriers. Any attempt at using a School of Magic in which a Mage lacked affinity would require excessive concentration, risking mana burn. On the other hand - possessing a Sigil - a talent Mages tend to be born with, made invoking that School of Magic almost second nature. Gwen closed the book despairingly. So that was why her instructor had told her that she could only be a utility mage - a third-rate healer, a spotter for the Evoker battalion, a controller for the levitation transports, an operator in the Divination department. It was because she couldn't cast spells in the heat of combat. When she turned the page of another Primer, she saw that there was a cantrip on the page before her - something so simple it didn’t even require a Sigil. These simple spells were called Cantrips. She closed her eyes and began the chant. "Mage Hand!" In her mind's eye, she felt the flow of mana race through her body, tingling her skin as they passed through her body's conduits. She envisioned a hand, an invisible astral limb, holding up the book she was reading. "Mother! Look!" Gwen's moment of serenity was interrupted by the cry of a child. The hefty tome fell into her lap. She was still in the midst of the library and that the pale glow of mana emitted by her indiscretion had caused a stir. There was a child who stared at her wild-eyed, pointing a rudely erect finger toward her face. "Samuel!" The mother retracted the child's hand. "It's rude to point!" She turned to regard Gwen with a frightened, apologetic face. "I am sorry, Mistress Mage," she intoned with a voice that trembled. "It's fine," Gwen promptly responded, her face flushing a shade of scarlet. “Miss, no phenomena in the public space please.” Came a voice from behind them. It was a librarian whose face scrunched with displeasure. “I am sorry,” Gwen apologised. "It won't happen again." "Thank you, Ma'am!" The woman apologised again. To be so afraid of even a worthless Mage like me, Gwen thought sadly. This world was a two-tier dystopia. Here the Mages were nobles, and the nonmagical population the serfs. Such was the difference in their natural endowment. She wondered what compelled the Mages to live beside the NoMs? Noblesse oblige? Though Mages and citizens had agreed to abide by the metaphorical Magna Carta, it was self-evident that Mages occupied a position irreplaceable by the NoMs. A system of Nobility based upon genetic meritocracy? Gwen shuddered. A eugenicist's wet dream. Again, her alter-memories reminded her that when survival was at hand, the handing over of power to a small and elite group of individuals seemed natural and unquestionable. When the creatures of the Wildlands came, a party of combat Mages could defeat a hundred monsters. A single Magus could annihilate a hoard infestation in a single large-scale assault. A Magister could take on a General class magical beast. A Magi? They were more akin to nuclear deterrents in Gwen's old world. They kept the balance of the world and its fragile peace. We won't nuke your monster Necropolis if you leave our human Metropolis alone, Gwen mused acidulously. To be a Mage in a world where magic ruled. The aptitude test was a watershed moment; when the Schrödinger's cat was finally out of the box. Most of the time, the cat died. Sometimes, the cat lived. Once in a blue moon, what came out was a Displacer Beast. But until then, all children were Tabula Rasa. 'Ping!' An announcement echoed across the library. "We will be closing in ten minutes..." Gwen closed the books. It was time to face the music.

When she was eleven, Gwen's parents separated. Custody, alimony, property splits, embittered family taking sides and caustic dialogue all took their toll. It had been a terrible time for the teenage Gwen, who through it all, tried to take care of her brother Percy. In the end, she powered through and believed herself stronger for surviving the drama. She suffered a few psychological tics- but it was nothing a North Shore therapist couldn't resolve, especially aided by pharmacology, the 'magic' of her old world. She had believed her past behind her, yet here she was, ambushed by her second adolescence. The district they lived in, Forestville, was primarily for working class Mages and NoM civilians. The streets were narrow and cramped, and her area of the neighbourhood, lovingly designated Zone 11, was filled with stifling habitat blocks smothering one another’s access to sunlight, ensuring that the vast majority of residents lived in permanent shadow. "Oi, Lover!" "Give us a kiss sweetheart!" "I could play with those legs for days!" Catcalls from the locals were a common occurrence in Forestville. The district was, after all, filled with unemployed NoMs and luckless Mages half-hanging out of windows in their sweat-stained shirts. Gwen hastened her pace and made for the apartment. She paused in front of the gates, attempting to recollect herself. Now that her talent was set in stone, she had people to disappoint. At the thought of her mother, Gwen shuddered involuntarily. Her memory threw up the vision of a fierce, beautiful, vivacious existence offset by hare-brained schemes and bouts of irrational jealousy. Mid-life crisis combined with a bi-polar personality had ensured that the old Gwen lived in abject terror of her mother's slightest displeasure. Her alter-self couldn't understand why her father - Morye Song - a half Russian, half Chinese Abjurer, a ‘success story’ migrant, chose to remain in her mother's orbit. But Gwen did. The reason was simple. Economic reality was a bitch. The apartment under which she stood belonged not to their father but their mother, or more accurately, her Clan. It was only by their mother's charity that their unambitious, skirt-chasing father could afford a comfortable lifestyle for the kids. Simply put, the economic impetus of a roof over their heads bound Gwen and Percy to their mother, likewise serving as a Sword of Damocles held over the head of her ex-partner. She pushed through the gate and entered the complex. The six-storey building did not possess a Levitation platform. The physically demanding ascent gave her more time to catch up with memories of her alter ego. Her parents had met while studying, catching on like a house on fire. By Gwen's recollection, it should have ended there. Yet, something alike to opposite attract seemed to have found one another, and the easy-going Morye Song married the rebellious Helena Huang. Of course, the brightest candle burns only half as long, and her mother was gunpowder. By an age alter-Gwen was old enough to understand, their different upbringings had made them less in kin and more in malice. Helena was an ambitious princess, Morye was a laidback bloke. It was all very Edward Albee. When Gwen grew up a hale and mundane, tested to reveal precisely nothing by the divisive age of 10, the marriage had reached its limit. “Your blood is weak,” her mother had announced one day, long before her brother Percy displayed his potential. The argument escalated, and more than just dinner was destroyed that night. Then revelation came that her mother had found an old flame, a former admirer, an industrious tier 4 Earthen Enchanter-Magus who had a lingering crush on the vivacious girl of his dreams. Rationally, it was a reasonably prudent and pragmatic choice. For if and when the Shield Barrier failed, would one prioritise some no-name Barrier Abjurer, or would one preferably be escorted to the nearest Freight-Carrier as the partner of a vital Fabricator? She ascended the last flight of stairs, out of breath and feeling torn. How should she deal with her parents? Could she even see them as her own? Certainly, they were the biological parents of this body she now inhabited, but- Gwen turned the handle. Was her father home? She wondered. Discerning his work schedule at the Barrier Station was difficult. After the divorce, Morye had found rebirth in playing with younger women. Was a little payback for her mother's possessive ownership over his children? Then again, Gwen reminded herself, in this world or the last, Morye's priority had always been himself. She arrived at the door, turned the keys, and entered. Percy was chewing through Allenberg’s Primer for Astral Theory on a desk covered with notes. From the looks of his copy, her brother had sunk far more hours into it than she ever did. “I am back!” Gwen announced to the world. “Welcome back Sis,” Percy addressed her. Gwen dropped off the books in the cramped living room, then slumped into the decaying foam of their two-decade-old couch. “What you having for avo-tea?” She asked. “The usual, Sambal Eggs.” “I'll have it on bread.” “Do it yourself ya lazy bum!” her brother replied tartly. "Make it for me! Please?" "Arrrgh! Stop pinching me!" Percy made afternoon tea, and the two shared a meal of dubious eggs. “So…” Percy said finally, “how goes the aptitude test?” "Evoker, null element," Gwen admitted with a bittersweet tone. "Congrats!" Percy raised a fork to toast, then realised what his sister had said. "Oh." "It's fine." Gwen put on a wane smile. She supposed it was better than being a NoM. Percy went to a Selective High School, where the guy that no one wanted to pick for a ball game would be minimum tier 2 something. Percy himself was probably tier 3 at worst, higher if he got lucky. Telling him that she awakened as a no-element Evoker was akin to the old world version of informing a peer on the U Syd Med-track that you managed to get into an Arts degree at a vocation college. She felt embarrassed just saying it. The peppery-chilli eggs turned to ash in her mouth. "I am happy for you." Percy tried to say something comforting, but he was just a kid with an adolescent's emotional quotient. Percy's education placed exceptional emphasis on talent, privilege, and the promise of a holier-than-thou future. From the look of consternation on his face, Percy appeared abashed and confused. Gwen knew that Percy of all people would be aware that once they were on their career tracks, he would never see her again except for Christmas dinners. After all, the exact thing happened in their old life together; this world may be different from old Sydney, but many occurrences ran on parallel rails. "It's okay," Gwen said finally after a moment. "Thanks for caring." "I'll be in my room, got a lot of work to cover,” Percy replied in kind. He packed the paper plates and dropped them in the bin before returning to his room. "You do the pans." Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Gwen growled. This world or that one, she HATED doing the washing. Gwen pulled her face from the Primer manual spread out in front of her. After another more hours brushing up on theory, she once again felt the itch for some practicum. Their apartment was built on the top floor and had access to the rooftop, thanks to fire regulations. Gwen recalled the feeling of trying to summon the Mage Hand and found herself a comfortable spot in the sun. She opened the manuscript of Black’s Transmutation Cantrip for Beginners and turned the page. **Mage Hand** Conjuration, Cantrip Casting Time: 1 minor Incantation Range: Visual, up to ten metres Components: Somatic Duration: 1 minute + variable _The caster creates a hovering hand capable of manipulating small objects._ Gwen could see why the process was considered arcane. Beyond general advice, there was almost no indication on how to manifest the phenomenon; her manuscript was particular to the author. If she were to peruse different editions, they would possess different annotations. She calmed her mind and tried to think of nothing, banishing her anxieties and worries for the moment. Invoke the Sigil. Channel the mana. "Mage Hand!" And Release! In her mind's eye, she caught sight of a School-less Sigil, requiring no astral attunement. She felt something pour from her thoracic diaphragm and traverse under her skin. A tingling sensation exited her fingers with a lilac spark, then in front of her, a semi-transparent hand manifested. No, not a hand. It was more like a ‘presence’, a constrained force that was moulded and shaped by her will. She imagined it lifting up her manuscript, and felt the phantom feeling of weight upon her fingers. So that’s why it’s Phantom Hand, Gwen realised. It was much easier to replicate the arcane phenomenon by drawing upon physical synaesthesia. So that's somatic casting, Gwen mused to herself. Most spells required at least one free hand to indicate direction and expression. It took years of practice to forgo the somatic component, longer to forgo the verbal component. She played with the telekinetic hand for a minute, lifting and moving pots and plants that littered the rooftop, noting the diminishment of the spell’s effect over time. She wished that there was a numerical value to mana, but apparently, that was too difficult to apply systematically and universally. Additionally, as the spell drained mana from her Astral Body, she could feel the onset of a mental fatigue like the brain drain one felt when trying to solve a complicated equation for too long. Alright, she told herself. Not a bad start. Satisfied, she produced another textbook, Otsu's Primer for Evokers, and turned to the only level one Evoker spell without any elemental affinity - the ubiquitous Magic Missile. Magic Missile Evocation Casting Time: 1 Major Incantation Range: Visual, about 30 - 40 metres Components: Somatic Duration: Instantaneous. Launch three or more projectiles of force at a designated target. When used in its default capacity, this spell possesses line-of-sight target seeking. If she registered as a tier 1 Evoker, she would need to be sufficiently proficient in demonstrating an Evocation spell. Once again, Gwen uttered the invocation for the Evocation school. It felt stupid completing her invocation with a boisterous 'Magic Missile!', but she had no other instructions to follow. With measured confidence, her mind tapped into the celestial conduit of the Evocation Sigil. She tried to envision three objects of force, each shaped by a keen edge. Invoke the Sigil. Channel the mana. "Magic Missile!" And Release! The expectant thud of three projectiles chipping concrete did not manifest. Instead, a sudden, dizzying sickness overwhelmed her. With a violent start, she doubled over and retch up a serving of fried eggs, curling up upon the concrete pavement like a cooked prawn. Gwen groaned, keeping her head perpendicularly rested on the side as to avoid choking on her vomit. Insufficient ability to tap into the pathways of magical schools meant that unspent mana fed back into her body, the book had stated as much. After a quarter of an hour, she returned to the kitchen and washed out her mouth. No more chilli eggs before practising, Gwen reminded herself. She then returned to the rooftop and hosed down the area with the garden sprayer. The Primer inferred that the only way to overcome mana sickness was efficient activation of the Sigil, and that came with experience and talent - ideally a combination of the two. Gwen steeled her spine, settling again into her mind’s eye. Another episode of gut-wrenching nausea followed her second attempt. Right, no solid food before practice, Gwen cleaned up after herself. She felt the slow onset of despair as denial turned to anger. By her third attempt, Gwen failed to manifest the Sigil. She was mana drained, or as the popular parlance would have it- she was OoM, out of mana. No blue, no spell. An exacting law of Spellcraft. Three spells and I am out. Gwen thought to herself, feeling her mana recollect slowly. The more she failed, the more Gwen grew frightened of what her failure implied. Driven by tenacity as much as anxiety, she continued to experiment well into the evening, choosing to push past the toll it took on her physical body. When finally the last drop of stomach acid had been dry-heaved, she sat back in a daze and pondered the possibility of accepting her traumatising reality. She turned again to her books, trawling through every word and paragraph to find some clue. Had she been the scion of some great, influential house, they would have found Tutors, associates and allies to teach her, but Gwen was all on her own, and only she could be the instrument of her metamorphosis. 'Clang!' The mesh door opened behind her. The baritone voice of her father pierced through the threshold. “Good Gods!” Her father's eyes widened at the terrifying state of the rooftop, filled with scrunched kitchen wipes and the contents of his daughter’s digestive tract. “Hey Dad,” Gwen replied weakly. “Gwen! What are you doing! You little Idiot! You can’t rush these things!” Her father’s voice unusually worried and tender. He extended a hand and Gwen took it, feeling her father's affirming grip retrieve her from the floor. “I know, Dad. I had a long day, that's all,” Gwen returned. She regarded her other-father in the light of the mauve, dying sun, and saw in his eyes genuine worry. The Morye of this world was ruggedly handsome, with a chiselled jawline and high cheekbones carried over from his Eastern European heritage. His eyes, two dark brown orbs, were soft and gentle. Curiously, he was a few centimetres shorter than his teenage daughter, although considering her six-foot height, his limited stature was barely noticeable until they stood side by side. An imperturbable man of carefree nature, there was a quiet masculinity in Morye that seemed to attract particular types of women. “Thanks for asking,” Gwen answered softly, struggling to erase the edge in her voice. “Don’t be so cold,” her father responded, sensing the distance in his daughter. “Come on. I bought some wonderful stuff for dinner.” She returned with him down into the apartment, where Percy was setting up the dinner table. “Roast wild quail,” her father stated. “From the Wildlands. It should help you replenish your mana.” Unlike domesticated beasts, many of the flora and fauna that lived beyond the human cities possessed qualities beneficial to Mages. The culinary fare was another point of disparity that made Gwen’s desire to equalise her position more difficult. The scion of a wealthy Magus family would have consumed nought but quasi-magical diets throughout his or her life, and in a world where every ounce of mana counted, it made a significant difference. “Let's eat,” Percy begged. “I am a growing kid!” “Alright, go ahead." Gwen chuckled, sliding into her seat as her family dug into the food. “I am happy that you made it as a Mage,” her father said when the quail had gone the way of the dodo. “I am glad too,” Gwen remarked, unconvinced. “So, an Evoker huh?” Her father grinned. "It’s a great school for progression, pretty good for getting out there into the Green and Orange Zones.” “Yeah.” Gwen nodded, wondering if she should confess to her father that she was not technically a true Evoker, merely registered as one. “If there’s anything you need…” her father began. As her memories continued to meld, Gwen felt torn by a dissonance of logic and emotion. Her unbidden memories threw up a brief vision of her father disinterestedly watching her mother dash their dinner to pieces, sardonically putting an apathetic cigarette to his lips as she screamed and raged. The whole while, Percy hid in her room while Gwen had peeked from a gap in between her bedroom door. “It's okay Dad." Gwen recovered from the disturbing recollection. “I’ll manage, and I’ll let you know if I need anything, I promise.” “Alright.” Her father smiled wearily, unsurprisingly breathing out with evident relief. "You’re a big girl. You let me know.” With dinner over, Gwen wanted to return to the rooftop, but her father disallowed it, citing the disturbance it would cause to neighbours if they saw disorganised, impulsive flashes of mana blasting from their building. “Hey, before you go…” the man continued. Gwen could see her father's Adam's apple bobbing back and forth. It was a tic, her father always did this when he was forcing himself to commit to something. “Your grandfather gave me this when I came into my talent.” Morye removed a jade pendant in the shape of a Kirin, a mythical chimaera. “I want to give it to you, now that you too have become a Mage.” Gwen took the pendant in her hand and felt the residual warmth remaining on the jade. “Thanks, Dad, I'll cherish it,” Gwen replied, feeling surprised at her father's offer. From the corner of her eye, she could see Morye staring at the jade longingly for a moment more. When she looped the pendant on her neck, he seemed to resign himself to his decision. “I am glad to give it,” he said finally, giving Gwen the expression of one releasing some great burden. “Is it special in any way?” Gwen asked gingerly, testing the waters. “It brings fertility and fortune.” Her father laughed to himself. “Please be serious,” Gwen asserted coldly. “I have no idea.” Her father shrugged. “It's a keepsake from the old country.” “From Grandfather?” Gwen pushed the question a little more. Her father had very few triggers - though questioning how their family had become lost in the Old Country was one of them. “Go get some rest.” As expected, her father 's answer became evasive. A look of weathered annoyance spread across his scowling face. “You have a big day ahead," he warned her. “You need to report to your mother.” Her supper immediately threatened rebellion. "I am going to sleep." With dinner concluded, Gwen retired to her room. She slipped into a hot shower, summoning the meditative Zen of shower thoughts. _What a day._ She woke up firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place. Despite her best and most ardent attempts, it was impossible to invoke that damn Evocation Sigil. She had spent so much of her time reeling from illness, that she could not successfully evoke a tier 1 spell. A tier 1 spell! Gwen baulked at the thought. What would happen when she had to practice spells with two-digit incantations? Would her head explode like a crushed melon? Little wonder, so few people make it past Magus, she thought to herself. The mental toll could crack one's brain like an egg. Exhausted, she returned to the same bed from which she awoke, its sheets still unmade. Hopefully, when she woke up again, it would be beside seaside Sydney.

Turbulent thoughts tormented Gwen through the night. Why was she here? What happened to the teenage Gwen of this world? In fact, now that she thought about it, what about her thirty-year-old body? Would her secretary, Becky, find her boss in a state of decomposition? Would the Sun Herald report on her mysterious demise with the headline, 'Woollahra Woman Mysteriously Dead: Face eaten by her two Cats! Pictures Inside!'? Hovering above and watching herself below, her body began to writhe on the bed, softly whimpering as if taken by a night terror. Within her mind, her twin animus folded upon themselves like origami. Collapsing, collating and condensing until her consciousness became obscure and ambiguous. The scene of her Awakening once again flashed upon her inward eye. Little squiggly Sigils crawled across her vision, manifestations from a feverish brain. In anger, she reached out and grasped at the illusive glyphs, tearing from the celestial nebulas handfuls of stardust. Once again, there were two of her: one crackling with energy, the other glowering with obsidian malevolence, consuming one another like dissolving twin-stars. Whenever a sliver of shadow broke from the confines of her body, a stab of lightning banished it below the surface. Where the light had filled her to the point of bursting, the shadow consumed it for fuel. Her existential struggle continued until it assumed the shape of a lithe female silhouette, an obsidian glass sculpture. Slowly, her consciousness settled back into her body, forever anchored to its host upon the Material Plane. Gwen felt as though she had witnessed the tapestry of the universe, an interplay of Eros and Thanatos. From one came two, from two came three, then from three, came the COSMOS. Gwen awoke in the late morning, exhausted by insomnia. Every bone in her body felt sundered as she lay in bed, paralysed within a pool of salty perspiration. Jesus. Gwen pressed her swollen eyes. Had she been crying? Her lips were parched, and her tongue was on fire; she needed a drink desperately. Painfully, like lifting a dumbbell, she moved an arm across her chest. With a grunt of wilful imposition, Gwen threw herself from the bed in a moment of dizzying weakness. She struck the carpet below, taking deep lungfuls of air, each gasp sending electric shocks through her torso. Was this the price of training foolishly and unwisely? Gwen tried to recall her actions from last night. Was it was impossible to overcome talent with effort? Leaning against her nightstand, Gwen stood; her trembling legs may as well be wet spaghetti. She checked her clock. 11:00. “Aw shit,” she cursed. She was going to be late for her mother; a direr prospect than trying to move her battered body. Forcing herself into the shower, Gwen leaned against the cold tile and let the warm water run over her. The steam soothed her bruised tendons and eased the dryness in her throat. When was the last time she cried? Gwen herself did not recall having such moments of emotional vulnerability, at least not since her old world family had gone their own way. But her youthful body was only fifteen, a vulnerable, hormonal flesh and blood biochemical construct undergoing puberty. She felt the dissonance between her helpless psyche and her temperamental physique distinctly, making her simultaneously young and old. Gwen turned off the tap. Now, she must meet her other-mother. Within a particular section of her wardrobe was kept all the presents gifted to her by her mother. By Helena's decree, whenever they met, Gwen should publically display her appreciation for her mother’s “tender loving care”. A dizzying array of dresses presented themselves. With a sharp eye, she picked out a blue Miu Miu one-piece pleated skirt with rounded French collars and a pair of Mary Janes which the old Gwen kept polished to a dazzling shine. From another draw, Gwen unfolded a velvet package and retrieved a leather handbag she couldn't possibly afford. The selection suited her skinny, adolescent body well. After brushing down her defiant hair and touching up her brows and lashes, she flew down six flights of stairs to the tune of clicking heels. As she staggered out the door, Gwen observed that her alter ego disliked the feeling of having her legs bared to the world, fearing that her long and shapely limbs drew unwanted attention. Presently, however, she cared little for such immature self-consciousness. A woman's beauty was her own; she could damn well do as she pleased. The station was only a few minutes away from her habitat-block. The Forestville to City-Circle was far more crowded than Gwen expected, and by the time the 'all stop to Central' pulled past Redfern, it was jam-packed. Lulled by the beat of the train's wheels against the tracks, she thought of her mother and how she would broach the subject of her lack-lustre, uncompetitive Awakening, hopefully not giving herself away in the process. In this world or the other, her relationship with her mother was tumultuous at best. Gwen knew from experience that behind the facade of their cordial monthly meetings and trendy, expensive dinners was the expectation that she would not fail her mother’s Great Expectations. "Erh..." A reflexive moan issuing forth from her lips took Gwen by surprise. She quickly turned her body against the crowd of impatient passengers to hide her flushing face. The mere thought of Helena's frigid face made her want to suck in her gut. Get a grip girl! Gwen commanded her unruly teenage body. Was she ever this emotionally unstable? “!” Her meditative introspection was rudely interrupted by a tactile invasion creeping up her thighs, sending goosebumps up the entirety of her torso. There was suddenly the horrid, slimy sensation of a foreign appendage pressing against her buttocks. Her immediate reaction was to freeze up like a deer caught in the path of a Fireball, her body turning rigid as paralytic shock overwhelmed all awareness. Gwen! GET A GRIP! Through sheer force of will, her all-consuming rage restored some of her mobility. This assault on her person was an outrage! She was being invaded and violated. She required the immediate expulsion of her offender from the world of the living! Slowly, she turned her face, bringing the full force of her heterochromatic hazel eyes to bear. 'CRACK!' An odour of ozone filled the air. Unbidden, the tension drained from her body. Gwen felt the snap of something unleashed, a violent flash of mana igniting the conduits of her body, accompanied by the dizzying sensation of mana drain. A Tyrian-purple shunt of electricity ran along the metallic door of the carriage, crawling across its surface as a fissure of lightning. Above, Lumen-bulbs grew several magnitudes brighter before bursting in a shower of sparks, sending its diffused mana all over the cabin. An alarm screamed through the carriage as the public display panel began to screech. “Spells are forbidden on public transports.” “Violation of the Transport Safety Act is a federal offence.” “Remain calm as officers will momentarily be onsite.” “Remain still. Scrying spells are in effect,” a chirpy female voice informed the passengers. A circumference of space cleared around Gwen. Murmurs of disbelief passed between passengers. It was evident who the miscreant had been. A young man with a terrified mien and Einstein-hair sat on his bottom, a wet patch on his pants where a single pulse of electricity had made him instantly incontinent. “Spare me please,” the offender moaned. “I didn't mean it, it… it was an accident.” “Holy crap did you see that?” “A Quasi-elemental Mage!” “What an unlucky bastard…” “That's like assaulting a Magical Beast in public…” someone joked. “God, I wish I awakened as a Quasi-elementalist.” A passenger sighed. “I hope there's not going to be a delay,” a more pragmatic voice joined the first. Below her, the young man whimpered. “I didn't know! I didn't…” her assailant grovelled. A feeling of disgust aside, Gwen was just as shocked as her offender. What the hell was that!? Gwen tried to recall the last ten seconds. The man's filthy paw and touched her buttocks, then sparks were flying every which way. Gwen quickly searched within herself and felt an absence of mana. She had invoked something, no doubt about that, but how had she done it?! The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The far side of the carriage slid open, and a path was made by the crowd to admit the attending officers. Their uniforms revealed them to be RailCorp Mages, both conductor and guard. “Alright, clear out,” commanded the lead officer in his navy uniform. “Who cast the lightning spell?” When they saw that the crowd had made a circle around Gwen, their attitude became incredulous. “G’day.” One of them tipped his hat. “Can someone tell me what happened here?” A dozen voices spoke at once, with the two officers taking note of the consensus. “What do you have to say for yourself?” One of them questioned the offender, having already framed the occurrence within his mind. “It… it was an accident…” the young man maintained. “NoM.” The senior the Officers pinched the bridge of his nose. “You better be sure of what you’re saying, because of two reasons. One, you just assaulted a Mage, and Two…” He turned to Gwen. “Miss, we are going to need your student I.D.” “Yessir,” Gwen replied demurely and produced her I.D from her handbag. “… and TWO, you assault a minor.” The man’s face was ashen and dripping. “… which means, for either infringement, we’re authorised to use Mind-Magic on you.” The officer smirked smugly, “So, NoM, what'll it be?” “I tried to touch her inappropriately…” Her offender confessed, yielding like a bag of soaked ramen. “Now then.” The Officers noted each other's acknowledgement before turning to Gwen politely. “Your I.D please young lady… You’re not in too much trouble, but it is still a crime to use a spell on the public transit system.” Gwen recognised in the Officer's halting tone that there was wiggle room in the man's edict. In addition to the trouble that would come with being charged with a public offence, having a record would impress her academic record poorly. While pondering her next course of action, Gwen felt a breeze pass between her legs. Her alter ego would have burst into tears, but Gwen was no shrinking violet. Men, particularly men in positions of power, responded very well to vulnerability. “I am sorry.” Gwen made herself smaller, leaning a little against the pane of the door so that it accentuated her long white legs. She looked up at the officers with downcast eyes moist with distress. “I didn't know that someone would grab me by the… the…tooshie…” She opted for a more juvenile lexicon. She was just fifteen, after all. “I was so scared… I lost control; I am not very good at spells… I had Awoken yesterday…” The Officers' faces grew full of empathy and compassion. This poor girl! Such a sweet little thing! To give her a record would surely ruin her life - all because of this scum sucking NoM! Some human garbage no better than fodder for the Goblins! “We’ll just take a record, Miss.” The senior of the two seemed to have made up his mind. “There will be no charges. Anyone can see that it was a genuine accident.” When Gwen put her hand on her chest and felt her heart flutter, she was no longer acting. The mind was competent, but the body was inadequate. “Thank you,” she replied sweetly, her face glowing with happiness. Aww, the crowd cooed. The assembly within the carriage nodded in satisfaction. Justice had transpired. This incident would make a pleasant luncheon conversation, accompanied by smashed avocados. When the train pulled up to Central, the officers took down Gwen's details. Gwen bid them a G'day before realising with renewed dread that she was now indubitably late for her mother's appointment. Exiting Central, she began to sprint. Clicking, clacking and turning heads wherever she went. Gwen soon arrived at Sheraton by the Park, where undoubtedly her mother was on the verge of burning down the hotel. "Ma'am?" A footman gazed over's Gwen's panting form appreciatively. Gwen straightened her hair with her hands and followed the footman into the cafe. She didn't have to look far for her mother. Helena Huang always occupied the most conspicuous space. Helena sat at the bar with a too tight dress that hugged her curvaceous body ridiculously. Her mother was tall and voluptuous but had a way of carrying her sumptuous flesh sensually as some women can. Even indoors she wore the classic brown Gucci shades that covered her face, framed by a mass of cascading black ringlets. Her scissored legs revealed toned, tanned thighs still supple and tight, her bosoms pressed to create an intrusive cleavage that drew furtive glances from men and women across the room. “I am sorry I am late!” Gwen declared with a distinctively sweet voice that escaped her lips reflexively. Helena swivelled in a manner that made it seemed as though there was a camera somewhere. Her mother took off her sunglasses with a swish of her voluminous hair to reveal dark eyeliners and too-thick lashes framing a vivid pair of eyes. “My lovely Guinevere,” her mother intoned in that sickly-rich voice of hers, full of promise for exciting things. Gwen’s real name was the same, but her mother would have liked it be something with more, ‘culture,’ as she put it. Crossing the floor, the sensuous woman embraced her lithe daughter, forming an enviable arch of femininity. A blooming teenage, a loving mother, a backdrop of flowers and desserts at the high tea room of the Hyde Park Sheraton - that was Helena's perfect world. Despite being an hour late, the Maitre d’ micromanaged a free table for the two, at which point mother and daughter settled down to cakes, cups, and ices. Watching her mother leaving a perfect lip print on the china gave Gwen heartburn. The high tea was a rare treat, though right now, even Royal Earl Grey turned her stomach. After struggling to deliver a strawberry shortcake to her lips and failing to swallow the tarty dessert, Gwen opted to just come out with the truth. “So…” she coughed politely behind a serviette, “I got tested for aptitude yesterday, and I am an Evoker.” Her mother’s hazel eyes were two balls of amber-green ice. “That’s wonderful dear,” her mother spoke in a manner filled with indifference. They said that the worst form of neglect wasn't aversion, but the cessation of care. "And?" “Just… Evoker.” Gwen willed herself to look, but her body dared not meet her mother’s eyes. Helena's irises were even more striking than Gwen's, a rarified green with concentric yellow rings which delivered the terrifying impression of a tigress eyeballing its prey. “I … see.” Her mother smiled, but it was a smile with teeth. They drank the tea in silence. Gwen wondered what went through her other mother's head. She knew that her maternal Clan was very wealthy in Sydney. Helena's brother and his wife were mediocre Mages, but opportunistic real estate brokers. Their son, Richard, attended The Prince’s College, the premier private magical institution in Sydney as a Water Conjurer. Gwen's widowed grandfather was once a famed Enchanter, though now dangerously senile. Helena must have hoped against hope that Gwen would give her something to brag about to her brother, but that daydream had now died a dog’s death. “Mother, I was groped by a guy on the train,” Gwen said suddenly, the words blurting out of her mouth as though possessing a mind of their own. “I managed a spell discharge…” “It's getting late,” her mother interjected suddenly. "Mother..." “Gwen. It is rather late.” Helena repeated herself, her tone frosty with rime. When Gwen regained control of her body and attempted to salvage some dignity, her mother's expression soured. Did Helena think she was lying to diffuse her anger? Trying to score pity marks? Not even her original mother had been this bad! You selfish bitch! She wanted to shout. Her body responded by cramping up. “Next time?” Gwen heard herself bleat, her guts pantomiming a pretzel. Jesus, I am a grown woman… Her face flushed red with frustration and distress. What had Helena done to this poor girl? The Pavlovian response from her teenage body was beyond Gwen's mastery. “I’ll call.” Her mother replied, her eyes already in another place. "Goodbye." Gwen made it as far as Hyde Park before she felt the impulse to tear off her expensive dress and gift her Chanel bag to the nearest hobo. She wanted to cry; God knows she could use a good scream and howl. The soft fabrics of her expensive attire irritated her skin. She stood under the iconic cypresses that lined the World War I memorial and tried to recollect herself as logic and psychosis jostled for control. The struggle proved futile. Her whole body shook uncontrollably; she wanted to vomit. Something unspeakable bubbled forth from the dark recess of her tenebrous psyche. "Blurrgh!" Up came the high tea, together with a resonating eruption of mana from her Astral Form. A feeling of self-loathing overwhelmed her as an inexplicable hunger course through her body. A shunt of dark energy, visible only at the edge of vision, encompassed her immediate surroundings. The lush lawn beneath her feet began to tear and disintegrate as abrasions lashed the trunk of the giant cypress, gouging grooves across the blond flesh. The effect seemed to last only a second, but her vitality was drained beyond measure. Her world began to spin as she slumped against the cypress, collapsing in a heap against its withered roots. Gwen sat with a start, her body aflame with aching joints and tender flesh. She shivered in her sweat-soaked mini-dress. Did I lose conscious in the middle of the city, in a public space?! Gwen marvelled at her inopportune epilepsy. She’s damn lucky she didn't get assaulted or worse! Instinctively, she felt for her bag, the absurdly expensive, near one of a kind handbag from her mother. Naturally, it had found a better, more astute owner. Now she felt like crying, and not on behalf of her alter-ego either. This despair was her own, trying to come to terms with the succession of fucked up events that seem to pile on without end. First, she Awakened to become trash. Then, she gets molested on the train. Now she falls unconscious and gets robbed. Maybe she'll get groped on the way back too, completing the fucking quad-factor. Gwen felt that if she cried right here, right now, there would be no shame; she deserved a little emotional bloodletting, grown woman or otherwise. Not to mention she was indeed bleeding. Her Message Device, her 'phone' was gone as well, as was her cash. Thankfully, she still had an ID, a currency card, and a train ticket in her skirt-pocket. Gwen stared blankly at the battered tree in front of her, some asshole had vandalised the park. Nothing was sacred in this world. She looked about her dazedly. It was only her second day and already she could do with an overdose of Celexa and Buspar washed down with a double shot of Don Julio. Her dress was soiled, her shoes dusty and the leather scuffed. Her exposed thighs were covered in goosebumps, unprepared to face the cooling dusk. Her wounded knee stun. She just wanted to go home. She had her ticket, that was good enough, for now. She stumbled to her feet, her hands brushing down her dress. It would need to be dry cleaned. More money, more costs she couldn't afford. Like the blood, her mood consisted of a rusty, oozy melancholy. I guess this is how people get suicidal, Gwen thought to herself, watching the trains pull in. What a fucking day. She stopped by the police box in Central and made a report. She left the Officers her father’s Message Glyph, then stumbled her way toward the platform for South Sydney. On the train, she hugged herself tightly against the pane of the double doors, the very picture of pity. With her blemished dress and a freshly scabbed knee, she must have thoroughly kindled the imagination of her fellow travellers. By the time Forestville rolled around, she had politely explained to several Samaritans that she was alright and was now going home. At Redfern, she had threatened to call the Railcorp guards when a salacious salary man assumed she was homeless and wanted to know her nightly rate. When she finally opened the door to her apartment in what felt like a return trip to Mordor, sans Eagles, she was faced down by the surprised expression of her father. “I got a call from the police…” he began, but Morye's face wasn't one of worry. It instead carried a look of guilt, like a child who'd been caught red-handed. She was being rude, Gwen knew, but she was too mentally and physically drained to deal with her father right now. She pushed past Morye and made for the kitchen, where the family kept the medicine box. “Hey! Go to your room...” Gwen looked toward her father. A woman called out from the kitchen. “Morye, is everything alright?” It was a voice she had never heard before. Gwen was very good with voices. Fuck! Gwen heard herself scream internally. FUCK! She was moving out next week, but this fucking guy. This selfish piece of shit! Would it kill her Dad to wait five fucking days before fucking a woman in the living room? Where the fuck was Percy? Why isn't he saying anything? Unwashed and no longer giving a shit, Gwen stumbled into her room while her father commanded her angrily to stay. Slamming the door, she locked it behind her. What new fucking wonders would tomorrow bring? Gwen thought to herself bitterly. Her body struck the bed, and her mind became full of darkness.

There's blood on her sheets. That is, Gwen's scraped knee had bled over her sheets. Pulling the gauzy cotton painfully from her skin, she stripped the linen from her bed. The last thing Gwen wanted to hear was her father's new bimbo having a crack at her bloody sheets. Gwen took a moment to compose her thoughts. Yesterday was behind her, and today was a new day. Shit happens. At work, at home, at the bar. But life had a habit of going head regardless. While discretely dealing with the evidence, she mentally listed critical events moving forward: 1\. Register with the school's dorms. 2\. Sort out accommodation, hopefully with Yue. 3\. Move stuff to the dorms and leave Morye behind forever. 4\. Prepare for two years of Spellcraft boot camp. 5\. Attend University - AGAIN. Become the greatest Mage of her generation. 6\. Earn millions or billions, whose's counting? 7\. Buy a new bayside house and retire with two cats. MAGICAL ONES. 8\. Life, back on track! Well, she snorted. Maybe just the first four for now. That, and she needed a hot shower. The tap screeched; a torrent of lukewarm water brought back her motivation for living. Gwen washed off the grime and dirt, making sure to pick apart her wounds for whatever part of Hyde Park that came home with her. Her mangled dermis stung like a bitch. Knowing that her father and brother were out, she allowed herself the liberty of walking around the apartment in her towels, enjoying a glass of cold milk as her injury aired out. The cramped abode had no large windows and thus offered no risk of unwanted exposure. When she had sufficiently dried herself, Gwen folded away her Miu-Miu dress for dry cleaning, packed away her shoes after applying some fix-it polish, and dressed in a cheap linen skirt hanging droopily just above her wounded knee. I was a wizard once, but then I took a Magic Missile to the knee. She mused alone before becoming even more depressed. She rummaged through her closet and found the school diary, an old thing that they gave out every year. Gwen scanned the pages, found Yue’s number, then dialled it into the ancient corded phone that they kept near the kitchen. "Yue, it's me." “Hello? Who's this?” Yue’s voice sounded suspicious. "It's me, Gwen," Gwen appended just in case. "Bloody hell, Gwen," Yue groaned. "I've been trying to call your Message Device since yesterday! Did you hear about our dorm arrangement?!" "Dorm arrangement?" "YEAH!" Yue's voice blasted her over the speaker. "It's bullshit!" "Wha?" Gwen was now thoroughly confused. "Didn't you check your phone?" Yue asked, "They sent out a Message yesterday." "Ah...." Gwen knew then that she had to share. "My phone. Right. Well, I got a hell of a story to tell..." The Message had informed students that they had to find a roommate or be assigned one. Furthermore, registration was on a first-come, first-serve basis. Thus far, barring three misfits, all the students had already registered. Misfit One was Yue, who had been waiting on Gwen, who had been AWOL. Misfit Two was Gwen, who was having suicidal thoughts. Finally, there was misfit Three, the quiet Elvia, whom despite her sudden, unexpected fame, had no friends with whom to share a room. As such, the trio received the use of a staff room where all three would have to share a common area, with the advantage of having an ensuite to themselves. The news would have been a remarkable boon for Gwen and Yue, but now they had a tag-along - Elvia Lindholm. Yue continued to rant in that endearing but offensive vernacular of hers as Gwen searched her memory for information on their third wheel. Elvia was the kind of girl that was ever present but never seen or heard. She tried to recall the girl's face, but remembered only long, ash-blonde bangs that covered her eyes. She seldom spoke, and rarely interacted with others except when necessary, when she did, her soft voice that made one strain to hear. She was short for her age, maybe edging past a meter-fifty, skinny too, giving the impression of one much younger. That was it. That was all Gwen knew about this girl. A vague idea of what she looked like, and her unassuming hairstyle. "Right? RIGHT?" Yue demanded on the other end of the phone. "Yep, total bull," Gwen replied, having missed about half of what Yue had just splurted. "So how about you?" Yue asked, her voice becoming tender. "Shit's pretty shitty, but it doesn't stop us from having a nice meet up on the city right? Wanna talk?" "I think I had enough of the city," Gwen replied. "Love to meet up though, what you got in mind?" "Wanna check out the dorm then?" Yue replied. "You gonna bring any furniture? I think the mail said all the usual furnishings are standardised, but you get to bring some crap along anyway, I wanna see how much room we have." "Its close to the school, yeah?" "Pretty much, its the apartment block directly behind it." Gwen thought about it. She could walk to the station and catch a bus direct, as it was a weekday. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Alright, see you there in an hour?" "Cool, I am shouting you lunch," Yue added. "No need." "Too bad," Yue insisted sweetly. "After what you went through, you could use some sweet, sweet calories." Gwen smiled. There was a reason she thought of Yue so often, even after they went their separate ways. “Cheers, luv. See ya." Gwen hung up and felt far less fatigued than before. She was ready for a bit of that soulful healing they sang about in songs. Unlike yesterday, it only took her a few minutes to get ready, no need for makeup or lashes, just a dab of lipgloss, a quick hammering of her unruly long hair, and she was out. Ignoring her smarting knee, Gwen pushed past the pain and made haste for the familiar comfort of her dear friend. When the bus pulled up to the school gate, Yue was already waiting for her. It was break time for the juniors, and the fire Evoker already had a dozen of them making moon-eyes at her. The ones closest to Yue and trying to strike up a conversation were all girls, adorable juniors who wanted to know the secret of her Awakening. The boys hung back more apprehensively - Yue's reputation for having a barbed tongue preceded her. "Gwen!" Yue breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey." Gwen waved back. "Who's that?" Someone asked. "Gwen Song." "A nobody..." "I heard she’s a NoM." "What a nuisance," a girl added unkindly. "Shut your pie holes!" Yue shouted at the juniors, silencing them at once. "Stupid fuckwits." Had Gwen done what Yue just did, some of the juniors would have demanded to duel her. Yue, however, possessed the countenance of a Conjurer barking orders at her summons. "Let's go." Yue urged Gwen to move. "Are they staying together?" a student demanded incredulously. "That's so unfair," a junior wailed. "I want to room with Yue..." Yue dragged Gwen along until they were out of sight. "You alright?" she asked, a little guilty for the display. "Yeah, I am fine," Gwen replied, glad to be out of the limelight. The duo made their way past the schoolhouse and into the residential zone that Blackwattle had prepared for its Spellcraft students. It was an old apartment, likely built in the first reclamation in the 80s, with a distinct Brutalist facade which said, come wind, rain, or Thunder Elemental, I am here to stay. The building's levitation platform was a freight-lift, rumbling unhappily up the shaft until it reached the top level. The staff room was no penthouse, but it offered a beautiful view of the city and the Barrier Shield that extended into the harbour. At the entrance of 1201, they were surprised to find that the door was unlocked. The girls exchanged a glance, then turned the handle. What greeted them was the small figure of a girl with ash blonde hair, holding a dress in one hand and a coat hanger in another. Their intruder stared back, eyes wide with shock, the very picture of a doe the moment before it was incinerated by a Scorching Ray. “… ...” there was a silent scream. The girl had made the right expression but what emerged instead was a kind of half choked, half muffled yelp. “Hello there…” Gwen said. “…” “I am Gwen Song." “…” We are going off to a good start. Gwen thought. “You a mute or something?” Yue asked suddenly. “…” Gwen pulled her friend's elbow. Elvia is a healer! She's a koala bear! You (Yue) can't go around bullying koalas. “…. No.” A soft voice whimpered, sharp and high pitched, like the trill of a nightingale. “You got like, a condition or something?” Yue kept on with her interrogation. “Don't you think it's good form to ask our permission before you start unpacking your things?” Elvia looked up; her eyes brimming with apprehension. To their surprise, their intruder had a small face that was alluring and white, pale like milk; possessing a button nose that gave her the impression of a pixie or a fairy. Her lips, pink and delicate, was also pale and bloodless. Combined with her luminous ocean-blue eyes, she reminded Gwen of those uncanny character-actors who played Disney princesses. Gwen's heart melt like Devondale butter under a December sun. The stunned expression, the soft eyes, the pale face - her maternal instincts were tripping every alarm in her body. Yue was an only child, and she couldn't possibly understand how Gwen felt. Gwen had raised Percy in her mother’s absence and desired more than anything to have a cute little sister she could hug and adore and cuddle. Without a word, Gwen reached out to Elvia and pulled her to her chest. “Yue, not another word.” Gwen made eyes at her friend that said she'd take care of it. Yue maintained her cynicism as Gwen felt Elvia’s rigid body stiffen. The petite girl only reached her shoulders; her head was just the right height for Gwen to rest her chin. There was a delicious scent of expensive shampoo. “There, there,” Gwen comforted the frightened little creature, gazing into Elvia’s eyes with her most sisterly expression. There was an attraction there, nothing unbecoming of course, but an attraction nonetheless. Gwen felt strangely drawn, as though something about Elvia completed her in an inexplicable way. “I am sorry,” Elvia stammered. “I didn't want to be a bother when you two are moving in.” “Is that right?” Yue demanded sceptically. “It's fine.” Gwen gave both of the girls a reassuring glance. “We’re here to have a look at the room. You’re no bother. I am Gwen Song, and this is Yue Bai, her name means white moon.” “The fire Mage?” Elvia asked, her eyes lighting up. “The one and only.” Gwen nodded. The girls measured one another with their eyes. “I am Elvia Lindholm,” Elvia answered after an eternity. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” The diminutive girl looked up at Gwen. “Where are you from?” Elvia asked in that soft timbre of hers. It was not an unusual question. In an overtly multicultural city like Sydney, people were often inquisitive about where one was from, at least originally. “I was born here, but my family came from all over,” Gwen satiated Elvia's curiosity. Her eyes, her height, her hair, nothing seemed to come as a racial set. “My mother is mixed South East Asian, my father is Russian - Chinese, from near the Sino Fault.” Elvia’s mouth formed an ‘o’ of wonderment. “You're so pretty.” Elvia blushed adorably, then noted that Gwen held her shoulders protectively. “So tall,” the girl added enviously. Yue coughed, thrusting out her best features. “You’re … very pretty too,” Elvia added, her eyes becoming as large as ping pong balls. “I love your… erm…blouse.” “I think we'll get along fine,” Gwen concluded with confidence. “Like a house on fire,” Yue added with a grin that showed her pearly whites. Elvia glanced at Yue shudderingly before being assuaged by Gwen that all evidence aside, Yue was not a deranged pyro. Greetings accomplished, the girls went on to conduct the business of sharing a room. The spacious common area was divided into three sections, with each side having a bed, wardrobe, wall mounted cabinet and a study desk. The foot of the bed had an enchanted storage chest linked to their mana signature. The third wall contained the shared bathroom. The room furthermore possessed a small kitchenette, the kind one found in served apartments. The girls soon agreed on their respective areas of privacy. "Oh!" Elvia interjected. "Gwen! You're bleeding!" Gwen looked down. "Ah bugger," she cursed. Her wound was indeed weeping. "Don't touch it." Elvia stopped her before Gwen could dab her knee with a tissue. "I can help." Kneeling in front of Gwen, she placed her hands just above Gwen's wound. "Healing Touch!" A ticklish, tingling sensation crawled up Gwen's leg. "Oh!" Gwen fought an impulse to kick out. The itching grew unbearable. "All done!" Elvia stood back proudly. Gwen looked down. The scab fell away, revealing pink flesh. HOLY SHIT! Her mind rioted. REAL LIFE HEALING MAGIC? "What do you like to eat?" Gwen asked the girls, flexing her knee. "My shout!" After some deliberation, the trio made for Market City, where cheap, greasy food was sold daily by the ton. "I don't usually eat out..." Elvia confessed, expecting mockery and displeasure. "Yeah, I usually just eat home too," Gwen confessed in turn, somewhat misreading the sentiment. “It's much cheaper just to have toast." "Oh, Gods," Yue, who was a foodie, rolled her eyes, "This one time, Gwen placed a piece of soft bread between two toasted multigrain bread, and called it a sandwich..." "That sounds... delicious?" Elvia envisioned the spectacle in her head. "But can't you put something else in the middle?" "This one time I put leftover stir-fry, it was awesome." Gwen’s morale had now recovered enough to revealing her culinary secrets. Her knee was 100% recovered. "Its even better if you can cram some SPAM in there." Yue made a gagging motion, which made Elvia laugh. Her new roommates were far too comfortable with one another. The pacing of their interactions threw off her mental metronome immensely. The girls made their way around town and were on their third serve of sweet nothings when Elvia announced that any more food and she would burst at the seams. Beside her, Gwen and Yue continued to eat. Elvia shuddered. The appetite of her new friends was a terrifying thing!

The week came and went, then it was time for Gwen to go. With her father's latest lover still lounging in the living room, Gwen felt no obligation for an amicable departure as the last of her boxes were packed. Her only regret was leaving Percy. Her brother seemed precociously aware that in a few years, the distance between himself and his sister would only continue to grow. As such, their parting the night before had been bittersweet. The guilt of having left her little brother in her past life, combined with the sentimentality of her usurped experiences, made the moment melancholic. They would always be siblings, of course, but this was a world far more meritocratic than her old one. Already, even at the tender age of thirteen, she could sense the wane kindness in his face. He possessed a natural arrogance born out of necessity and circumstance. Percy attended a Selective High School. Their Aunty once said that if he awakened 'properly', she would move him to Prince's with a paid-tuition. When Gwen tried to impart her worldly wisdom for the last time; Percy had the glazed look of someone who thought very little of her advice. No heartfelt hugs, no thunderous dramatics. Just a wry smile. "That all Miss?" The Removalist topped up his three-wheeled trolley and asked for final confirmation. Gwen looked back at the Forestville apartment and saw her father still fuming in the kitchen, her brother's door slightly ajar. "Yeah." She shut the front door. "That's it." The last of the boxes were pressed and packed for recycling as Gwen sat on the single bed of her new home for the next two years. Yue wouldn't be here for another day. Elvia said she would be moving in on the first day of the new term, the following Monday. For the moment then, Gwen had the place to herself. She resented these moments, for idle minds grew anxious. I was one traveller, long I stood... looked down one as far as I could... Brambles permeated her path, and she had no idea where the road bent in the undergrowth. A week into her new life, the wisdom of her old world was all the evidence she had of her former self. If she were to re-live her teenagehood, how was her old world knowledge going to help her Spellcraft? Magic ignored every rule of natural philosophy she knew; she couldn't just pull a wonderful Wizard of Oz, could she? Would scientific charlatanism be enough to walk the path of Spellcraft? On that note, Gwen sighed. The more she learned about the road ahead, the less confident she grew. She had a year and a half of senior education which she had to complete. Within that time, the Mages who were talented and those who were mediocre were divided again into separate vocations. Those with talent sought higher education, entering Mandatory Military Service as junior officers. Those without the talent joined foundational training in industries beginning their military service as grunts. Mandatory Military Service. She had baulked when Yue began to boast about how much she looked forward to her rite of passage. Actual combat? Against Monsters? Gwen struggled to visualise the event. She's going to be Spellfodder, Gwen moped. Think positive, think positive! She reversed gears, chanting to herself like a mantra. There was nothing to be done now, nothing but the coming on of human sleep. Yue arrived in a day later, accompanied by her father who acted as her manual labourer. Mr Bai had known Gwen since they were young and so had asked her to look after his hot-headed daughter. Together they unpacked and waited for their third member. "Where's your Mum?" Gwen asked. "She doesn't like to be in a place full of Mages; you know that, right?" Yue pushed a box under her bed. "My mom's pretty sensitive about her NoM status. My talent has got her in a good mood though. She's been bragging to her family for the last week. I think the whole neighbourhood knows." "Hahaha," Gwen chuckled. Even in this world, Yue's boisterous mother was the same. 'Ding!' A Message spell bloomed beside Gwen's ear. "Looks like Elvia's here early," Gwen remarked. "She's down below." A gargantuan Mercedes S-Class pulled up at the front of the apartment. A manservant opened the door for Elvia as another, the driver, took out her luggage. The vehicle would not have caused such a stir if they were in Pineford’s Ladies College up the Shore, but here was Blackwattle! It was a government-sanctioned Spellcraft school with blue-collar kids. Even the staff were a humbled bunch, been retired Mages from different government industries, as well as the Military. To the dismay of the academy cohort, Elvia exchanged cheeks with Gwen and Yue, then together, the trio made for the ‘penthouse’ suite. Chinese whispers ran rampant within the hour. Tales told of Gwen worming her deceptive way into the friendship of her better peers. Others declared that Gwen was a rebellious gal who ran a gang and imperilled the two into accepting her. Another contested that Gwen was, in fact, the bastard daughter of a politician who used his influence to set her up with illicit means of success. The truth behind the schoolyard jealousy was of course, merely one of pragmatism. During the summer semester, the school held a government-sanctioned live-combat examination, known euphemistically as the Field Trip. For this field assignment, Mages were set up in 'Parties' of five. Naturally, everyone wanted to be on the team with a Healer and the top damage dealing acolyte of the academy. All the A-team needed to add was an Abjurer, and they were good to go. How had Gwen Song ingratiated herself into the A-Team effortlessly? Who does she think she is? The academic term plodded along, bulldozing forward without a care for the student's natural abilities. Blackwattle was, after all, a Public School with no time to spare for those who faltered. As for Gwen, her classes underscored current magical theory, progressing through a dozen topics interchangeably given by staff and guest speakers. Gwen marked off November with an impending sense of dread. Every waking hour had been spent studying by herself, or with Elvia and Yue, who supplemented her work. **Astral Theory** **Theory of Mana** **Senior Spellcraft 101** **Enchantments and Constructs** **Study of Magical Creatures** Amongst the all-important subjects were also the necessities of life in the modern world. Arts, Natural Philosophy, and Home Economics - a topic insultingly catered only for the girls. Furthermore, Spellcraft students received two vital but limited resources: Low-Density Mana Crystals identified as LDMs and an allocated time in the Cognisance Chamber. LDMs were used to replenish mana quickly, allowing students more practice with aligning their astral presence, drawing upon the elemental planes to manifest phenomena. Invocation practice was an all-important daily ritual for most students, as the constant process of draining, using, and channelling mana made one's capacity for Spells higher in both volume and flux. The instructors described the process as akin to physical training, wherein only by pushing oneself to exhaustion with constant strain and repetition can one's proficiency for affinity and Sigil increase. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Conversely, the Cognisance Chamber was a quasi-magical chamber constructed to allow Mages to see within themselves and visualise their links to the elemental planes to which they were interconnected. As it was impossible for the average Acylote to comprehend Astral Theory, the chamber cognitively generated Illusion, allowing the Acylote to 'interact' with their Astral Bodies. The education wasn't holistic, but the Frontier's purpose, after all, was to put bodies behind mana engines, barriers and factories, not produce scholars. Pushing herself to study, Gwen voraciously acquired an entire lexicon during her remedial, chief of which was an understanding of 'Affinity'. Talent Affinity signified the ease of manifesting phenomena from a particular School of Magic, as well as reducing spell fatigue. Elemental Affinity increased power and reduced cost. When queried, Yue anecdotally drew upon the ubiquitous Fireball, her most desired Evocation. "The higher my affinity, the hotter my flame, the more penetrative my strike, and the larger my area of effect. Concurrently, I got lower casting cost and therefore lesser risk of mana burn." Additionally, Mages could attune themselves with Elemental Spirits, further compounding the manifested phenomena. A low-tier Element Sprite could add a single tier of effectiveness to a Mage's spells. At higher tiers, sapient Sprites manipulated spells in unique and unimaginable ways. Element-shift was likewise a post-industrial Spellcraft staple. A neutral Shielding Abjurer generated an invisible magic barrier. An Earthen Mage, however, manifested a Stone Shield. A Fire Mage created a Fire Shield which burned melee assailants. A Water Mage produced a circulating cascade, a self-replenishing Shield capable of nullifying lesser elemental effects. The mechanical limitations of Spellcraft, therefore, was why Gwen's reputation as a null-Element preceded her. When her turn in the Cognisance Chamber came around, her peers jeered and joked as she made the inevitable walk of shame. It had only been two months into the academic term, and she was already infamous. Her intimacy with Yue and Elvia served only to add fuel to the fire. She was very much the tall poppy. As a semi-giantess at six feet, she was instantly recognisable a block away. Her only saving grace, Gwen noted bitterly, was the absence of a scarlet 'A' on her uniform. But her social suicide wasn't her only problem. Her most vexing irritation was that in two months, she had yet to cast a single spell successfully without feeling utterly sick with mana burn. Her incompetence made no sense, as many of the elementary spells were without an element. Meanwhile, Yue had already managed a flame channel. She showed off by playing around with a dab of flame that danced harmlessly around her hands. Elvia, apparently born ready, effortlessly managed Healing cantrips. Plagued by self-doubt and misery, Gwen made her way through to the Cognisance Chamber, jeered by cold glances and mocking faces. She was the last to visit the Chamber. The arrangement was that students with more 'potential' were allowed to used the chamber first. Tellingly, it took two fortnights of micro-management to affirm her appointment. "Don't worry Gwen," Her friend had comforted her. "Once you're in there, you'll know what's wrong." "I am hopelessly optimistic," Gwen replied with a wane smile. "You can do it!" Yue declared. "Try harder!" “You’re reading way too many propaganda pieces," Gwen observed wrily. If wanting something badly enough made it happen, Humanity wouldn't be half as desperate. "I have confidence in you!" Elvia added, straddling a pillow between her legs and her chest. "My dad says I have excellent magical senses, and you don't feel like a squib to me." Gwen winced. A 'squib' was a NoM born into a Mage bloodline. They were rare, but fate liked to play silly buggers. At the door, a staff member scanned her ID card. "You have an hour. Your student card should record any changes in your abilities," the middle-aged clerk, a NoM, informed her expressionlessly. "Thank you, Ma'am," Gwen replied politely nonetheless. Inside the chamber was a platform for her to stand. The whole set up reminded her of a 60's space module, but bigger. Gwen positioned herself, then waited for the Enchantment to activate. Slowly, the room dimmed, its dimensions transforming into a grey, edgeless space. A reflection expanded below Gwen's body, refracted by Illusory glyphs to appear above, beside, and around her. According to the student guide, each Sigil the Acolyte gained appeared as glowing nebulas. Gwen by now had two months of study under her belt. She was no longer blindly guessing at arcane phenomena. Floating through the darkness, she made sense of the pseudo-space before beginning her navigation. Not far, she spotted an illuminated space. Gwen willed her Astral Body toward what was hopefully her Evocation Sigil. Yue had tried and failed to describe to Gwen the indefinable phenomenon, but the sight now had Gwen's heart pounding. When she came closer to the nebula of starlight, she could see it pulsing with a familiar twinkle, blinking and winking as though signalling her. "Hello?" Gwen thought out loud, her pulse quickening. This better not be the precursor to something worse, she thought. That would be a bloody lark. She was a Generalist, possessing no talent and no affinity. Theoretically, seeing a Sigil with such distinct illumination was impossible. "Fuck it." Abandoning all care, she thrust herself violently into the stardust. "!" Her Astral Body grew incandescent. Inexplicably, she understood Evocation. It was as though she had always known how to use Evocation, as profoundly as one dextrously employed a limb, balanced on a wall, or caught a ball. The knowledge was instinctual and habitual, it was thinking in abstraction. "Magic Missile!" The mana conducted splendidly through her body. There was no puzzle, no mystery. Where she had blindly groped for guidance on the open planes of potential, there were now distinct paths she could take, solutions that were self-evident. Breathless with excitement, she yelped. As her Magic Missile faded into the distance, a fissure of light swept through her Sigil. Her newly visualised Evocation Sigil tapped into its elementally aligned gate. 'Crack!' A flash of lightning danced through the illusory star-field, filling the uncertain space with cobalt-blue and Tyrian-purple. "Oh my God!" Gwen wailed with affirmation, overcome with relief and joy. The folks on the train were right! She was a Quasi-Elementalist! A Lightning Mage! She was a sorceress who tapped into the Quasi-elemental Plane between the Plane of Air and Positive Energy. Why hadn't she awaken earlier? Why was she denied? Was it her ignorance? She had stared at the Sigil dumbfounded, not knowing that she had to reach out. But enough of that. Gwen wanted to laugh, to scream, to cry out in triumph. Within the Chamber, Gwen punched the air. Had she finally managed to supersede her predecessor's curse of mediocrity? As the electricity encircling her body simmered, Gwen knew that the portal to the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning had stabilised. She willed mana into the Sigil, drawing upon a mental image of Yue playing with her Dancing Light, and felt a numbing sensation travelling across her forearm as a sliver of blue light twirled around her finger into a small phantom creature. Her creation hummed and purred at her, making Gwen question if the thing was sentient or merely a manifestation of her animus. 'Spak!' "Woa!" Suddenly, abruptly, her abstract elemental zapped out angrily at something hidden just out of sight. Gwen focused her mind's eye, concentrating on the space beyond the glowing stardust. Something was there, hidden in an obscured section darker than black. She moved past the glimmering, static-charged mass of the Evocation sigil, then reached out for the slivers of something that seemed to fade in and out of her vision. A sudden shudder engendered within her Astral Body. She felt a sharp, biting pain. Flinching, Gwen withdrew her phantom hand. She saw that there were tenebrous incisions all over her illusory skin. At the edge of her vision, slivers of black continued to twist and turn, appearing both closer and further away, taunting her. Gwen thought back to the dream she had before. There was light, and there was dark. If the light was Lightning, then what was the dark? Yin and Yang, light and dark, milk and coffee? She willed her electrical creature to investigate. The sliver of lightning coiled upon itself, then with a mighty leap, launched itself towards the shadows. "Dancing Light!" Gwen attempted a second Evocation spell, achieving resounding success. A white radiance dispelled all shadow. Gwen could see the slivers now, like small dark fish, swimming and fleeing as the ball lightning grew in intensity and rolled towards them. They cowered in the presence of her electricity, nestling and writhing like slippery eels. The aura given off by the creatures was both alien and foreign, uncomfortable to the extreme, inducing inexplicable vertigo. But if this mysterious thing existed in the Cognisance projection, Gwen thought to herself. Then it must also exist within herself. Besides her, the lightning spark returned from its show of force, resting on her shoulder as it sizzled. Gwen reached out as she had done so before, snatching one of the creatures with her hand. There was that sensation again, that strange shuddering that felt as if space itself had distorted- Gwen found herself in the real world. She was no longer in the sensory illusion created by the Cognisance Chamber. Gwen flexed her fingers, disorientated to the extreme. She still had no idea what she had discovered. The door to the chamber opened with a distinct displacement of air. "That's time," The admin asked Gwen for her card. When she noted the changes inscribed by the Chamber’s magically driven recording scripts, her eyes widened. "Congratulations," the woman spoke with a tone of awe, "I shall inform the Principal." When Gwen received her I.D card, she took a moment to be equally astounded. **Gwen Song** **S.I.D** :: 0043598 **Evoker Tier** :: 1 **Elemental Affinity** :: Quasi Elemental - Lightning (3) The rest of the card was blank, its space reserved for other achievements. Holy shit. Gwen's fingers trembled. I made it. Here was the watershed moment, the moment the life of the old Gwen ceased to be, the moment fate caught the cliff's edge and pulled her up by the fingernails. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I— I took the Magic Carpet through— Thank GOD she didn't have to trudge through the Wildland woods. Lord knew what lurked in the dark; knowing this cursed world, it was probably Shub-Niggurath. In her moment of private reverie, Gwen hadn't noticed some sticky-beaked students sneaking up behind her to read her card, to announce it to the world and viciously mock the object of their ire. "Gwen Song," someone read out aloud before Gwen could stow her card, but it was too late. "Tier 1 Evoker..." Then the reader's voice croaked. "Well?" "Come on?" "What does it say?" "It says nothing after that, duh..." "..." The student respectfully took a step back and gave Gwen a look of no hard feelings. He possessed the greatest respect for his schoolmate. "Tier 3... Quasi Lightning!" he announced, biting every syllable. A few of the students anticipating sweet nothings from the public announcement was already laughing. A split-second later, their mockery changed to grave concern. A dangerous silence reigned. Gwen slipped the card into her skirt-pocket, then fled the scene.

The terrible news of Gwen's 'true' talent spread like the thirteenth-century quasi-magical bubonic plague. She quickly left the main building before a mob could pick up enough momentum to start throwing textbooks. When Gwen finally got to the dorm apartments, Yue and Elvia were already giddy with the good news. "See? Told you so." Yue beamed with optimism; an infectious grin split from ear to ear. "Congratulations, Gwen on discovering your talent!" Elvia ran into Gwen's arms, her small frame twirling about Gwen's neck. Feeling overwhelmed by fortune's favour, Gwen embraced her two besties, feeling grateful for having made such dependable friends. "You'll probably have to see Old Bartlett soon,” Yue advised. "Man, just thinking about your Quasi-Lightning gets my blood boiling - you and me, two powerhouse duos, Elvia at the back healing ... we are going to rock that Field Trip." "Don't count your cockatrices before they hatch. We still need to find a Tank," Elvia lectured them. Unlike Yue, she was not looking forward to facing live combat. "There's no one good in our year. We ask the Seniors." "Abjurers are a dime a dozen." Yue shrugged. "Although we could put you up as a prize and hold a school-wide competition to find the BEST Abjurer! A day with Elvia, a date with the Golden Princess!" "Please don’t," Elvia rebuked Yue sternly; Yue had on an evil expression. “Hoho, I can see it now! The three of us, piling up that mountain of beast carcasses. Maybe we’ll even find a Creature Core or two if we kill enough of them.” “You mean the five of us?” Gwen interjected sceptically. “Pufft… its just going to be us pulling the weight anyway.” Yue snickered arrogantly. "You know, finding a Core on our first adventure would be awesome. We can exchange it. We'll have LDMs for days!" All Mages dreamt of finding a Creature Core. The Core of Magical Beasts formed the basic ingredient for Magical Items. The stronger the beast, the denser the Core, the higher the danger involved. A few Earthen Goblins was merely fodder, but a Coastal Basilisk could wipe out an entire mining outpost. "Alright, clear out, don’t stand in the doorway for Magus’ sake!” The gruff voice of a man announced behind them; it was the caretaker of the Dorm. Iron-Faced Rawson, Yue nicknamed him for his stern and stoic nature, but Gwen rather liked the man. Rawson was the sort of person who was the opposite of her father - focused, laconic, and useful. "Got a call from Admin." He turned to the trio. "Gwen Song, the old man wants to see you." "Thanks, Mr Rawson.” Rawson nodded back. "Congratulations,” the caretaker intoned expressionlessly before returning to the interior of the apartment. "You like that sort of man huh, Gwen?" Yue's brows wiggled. "Mr Rawson?" Elvia looked at Gwen with shock. "He's like a Dad!" "That's the point... hee hee hee," Yue persisted in her dirty hypothesis. “We all know Gwen’s got Daddy issues…” "Good God, you two..." Gwen rolled her eyes. Bloody immature teenage hormonal meat bags. BUT, she was a teen herself, there was no help discounting that. Her body had a mind of its own, even now. Somewhere inside her flesh and blood, the old ghost of the erstwhile Gwen haunted its halls. At anyway rate, Gwen was not attracted to Rawson, no. She was merely admiring the rare bird known as competence. The Principal's Office was on the ground floor of the main building. Blackwattle was a simple school with a simple pedigree, and so a simple oaken door opened up to a spacious interior adorned with awards and accolades. Magus Jules Bartlett had served as the Principal of Blackwattle for two decades. He was a well-known figure both within the school itself and in the neighbourhood. Generations of Acolytes came and went, but all recognised the ever-present personage that was Principal Bartlett at the gates, 0700 sharp, dutifully greeting each student. Amiable and approachable, the Principal was a man fond of conversation. When Gwen entered, she was met with a reassuring smile. My God, his beard is impeccable. Gwen thought. Not a hair out of place. "Miss Song, please take a seat and make yourself comfortable, have a cuppa if you like." The Magus motioned to the table, adorned with a steaming pot of stoutly brewed English Breakfast. "Thank you, Sir." Gwen sat, tilting her long legs to one side and crossing her ankles behind chair's lip. “Your progress comes as a great blessing, Ms Song.” Bartlett began. “Barely two month ago, you Awakened only as a Generalist!” “I wasn't feeling my best sir,” Gwen replied sheepishly. Principal Bartlett laughed. “If only matters of Awakening were accountable by moods!” He exclaimed. “I called you here to congratulate you, Miss Song. And to offer an apology.” The Principal's eyes observed the young woman in front of him before continuing. “Instructor Thomas informed me of your happy accident. That despite NOT Awakening in Evocation, he had placed you out of pity." Gwen felt a little stunned at the news. “I am sure Instructor Thomas was correct though…” Gwen answered, wondering if she could salvage the situation. She was to blame, after all, both her confused incompetence and her enticement of the Instructor to pity her. “When I got home, I tried to do all sorts of experiments. Nothing succeeded, I was truly a Generalist.” “That may be,” Bartlett intercepted on her behalf. “But to think that but for a moment of pity, he would have recommended you for the Non Magical stream…” Yeah, that would have been catastrophic, Gwen concurred. “I understand,” she replied carefully. “I still don’t blame Instructor Thomas though.” “A warning then. You are too kind.” Bartlett waved a hand through the air. “If we had a Diviner, perhaps this could have been averted, but alas.” Gwen nodded demurely, playing the unworldly school girl. “How is your training fairing?” The Principal pivoted toward a more discerning topic. “I’ve only really awakened to the Sigil this morning,” Gwen answered honestly. “I don't think I have had an opportunity to test the extent of my abilities…” “Are you able to manifest?” “Yes, Sir.” Gwen hoped that she wasn't overextending her luck, a performance failure now of all times would be catastrophic. “Would you mind a demonstration?” Bartlett asked. Gwen swallowed discretely. “I’ll try my best sir.” The two of then left their seats and stood in the middle of the spacious office. Gwen turned her mind inwards and invoked the Evocation sigil. Having experienced its invocation in the Cognisance Chamber, she could envision it now perfectly, feeling the mana flow through her Astral Form, shift into Lightning, then flood her conduits. "Lightning Grasp!" she incanted, a spell that was a cousin to Flaming Hands, Yue’s favourite. She felt a jolt of electricity travel across her forearm, then the collated energy of her arcane phenomena manifested. With a muffled crash, a coil of blue-white lightning crackled around her hand, creating the element’s distinct chitter. Ozone filled the air, and static electricity flooded the surrounding space, sending up strands of Gwen’s hair and Principal Bartlett’s beard. “Beautiful,” the old Magus exclaimed. “It’s hard to control sir,” Gwen confessed, her face beginning to sweat. It was her first time, and her spell furiously sought to discharge. The sensation was akin to wrangling a thrashing weasel, any more and it was going to take off her fingers. “!” Magus Bartlett drew an Abjuration Sigil in the air. A Shield shimmered around the Magus silently. Transmuters and Abjurers could shape their Shields, but other Schools of Mages tended to favour semi-circle domes. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. “Strike my Shield,” Bartlett invited Gwen. “Let us see the efficacy of your affinity.” Gwen did not doubt for a second that the Magus thought little of her mere tier 1 spell. She extended her hand and touched the shimmering, near opaque Shield. With a resounding 'Crack!' the electricity dissipated, deforming it for a fraction of a second before the membrane returned to its original shape. “Impressive. Truly wonderful!” Magus Bartlett exclaimed happily. “Lightning is the lovechild of Evocation; its penetrative impact power is far stronger than that of Fire, Earth, or Water!” With the spell fizzling after its expenditure, Gwen regained control of her hand. Her head felt a little woozy for the effort. “Your affinity is exceptional,” Bartlett announced after a moment of thought. “I could feel the free nature of the Lightning element flowing strongly in your spell. Well done, Miss Song!" Gwen noted a strange discolouration in the Principal’s eyes. She recognised the phenomenon as Detect Magic; there was a picture of it in her textbooks. The Divination staple was useful for detecting magical events. At very high tiers, it could act as a portable version of Cognisance. Watching the Principal flit between schools and spells, Gwen realised just how far she had to go. Principal Bartlett meanwhile, was lost in the thought of what he should do with the newly minted sorceress, having now two capable Evokers on his hands. He felt that perhaps, it was best to report to the Tower and make a request for them to send an external instructor. “That was your first time?” He turned to Gwen. If true, then he should be doubly impressed. Gwen felt her face aglow with embarrassment, unsure whether she performed well or poorly. Was her manifestation unclean or crudely managed? A clumsy spell was as dangerous to herself as it was to others. “Yessir," she confessed. “I must then acknowledge your talent, then admonish your rashness,” the Principal intoned with sagacity. “It is good to be ambitious, Gwen, but know your limits.” Gwen bowed her head, staying in character. “I will have your LDM allowance upgraded to the same level as Miss Bai and Miss Lindholm,” The Magus added kindly. “I anticipate great things from you at the next examination.” “I won't disappoint you, Sir,” Gwen replied, her eyes sparkling as she met the Principal's demanding gaze head-on, switching from humility to braggadocio. "Very good. Dismissed." Gwen closed the door behind her. Yue and Elvia met her outside the administration building. “How did it go?” Gwen gave her companion a 'V' for victory. “On par with Yue (you).” She laughed. The girls uttered a unified hip-hip, hurray, drawing curious glances from juniors and seniors alike. Things were finally looking up! Gwen mused happily. To think that only two months ago, she was molested and robbed and was about to live a life of unfulfilled mediocrity! In two days, she would receive a new tithe of LDMs, and then her training could begin in earnest! The girls' practice settled into a routine. Gathered on the lower oval's practice range, she and Yue lit up the field with their Evocation incantations. Grudgingly, the school's cohort came to accept Gwen's new found powers. Albeit many refuted their budding admiration, the crowds that gathered whenever Yue and Gwen practised suggested otherwise. Once she was OoM, Gwen meditated, cradling an LDM shard. Within a quarter of an hour, she was topped up and ready for another round. With a growing stockpile of crystals at their disposal, their training was going swimmingly. Each day, when others had gone back to their dorms to study theory, Gwen, Yue, along with a talented few, could remain until sundown. The repetition meant that they built up a tolerance to mana drain, increasing both mana pool and mental stamina. Gwen's meals were also significantly improved, consisting mainly of Quasi-magical Beasts harvested and delivered to the school's cafeteria. As classes came and went, Gwen's night and days were beginning to blend. Her practice often became so exhaustive that she lost track of time. She called this 'the zone', feeling a curious Zen as the condensed mana stowed within her LDMs permeated her body. Blasts of flame roared across the field, creating pockmarks of craters across the asphalt practice zone. Beside the torrents of arcane fire, flashes of cobalt lightning tore at the ground, materialising from the aether. The gathered crowd was here to observe the ‘Dynamic Duo,’ as Yue had come to call herself and Gwen. Yue possessed affinity 4 for Fire and Gwen 3 for Lightning. Compared to their tier 1 peers, they could fire off four spells to the other's three. The passing grade for participation in the field trial was the demonstration of the ability to produce ten consecutive phenomena and a Shield, graded for damage, speed, variation, and defence. The micro-management of mana was drilled daily into the students by stern instructors. With each bout of exhaustion, the students alternated between rest and casting, optimising spell cycling. The crowd cheered. Yue was radiant as always, perspiring with youthful exuberance. As a Fire Mage, her body would slowly attune to the element, becoming resistant to heat and cold. By the same measure, her constitution would become increasingly hostile to water-based Enchantments and body-buffs. "Fire Missiles!" The crowd roared as darts of fire leapt from Yue's finger to envelop a conjured practice dummy, turning the effigy into smouldering chunks. Such grace! Such smooth and fluid somatic casting! The crowd applauded. Satisfied, Yue turned to observe Gwen, only to see her friend gesticulate wildly at the field like a madwoman flinging invisible cats. "Hahaha!" Yue couldn't help but burst into laughter. Hilarity aside, Gwen's bolts were making quick work of the dummies as well. For the audience, the difference between Fire and Lightning was instructive in themselves. Yue's AoE was far more impressive but had travel time, and was subject to line-of-sight. Gwen’s Lightning spells appeared from thin air, materialising from above the target, striking almost instantaneously. This difference in manifestation was why Lightning was so dominant in both duels and Monster hunting. However, as a trade-off, Gwen's spells were localised and exceedingly difficult to aim. “Spatial casting is much harder than it looks,” Gwen complained cattily to Yue, wiping herself down with a towel. “How do you find your projectile magic?” “Line barrages are fine,” Yue admitted. “But the whole parabola thing is pretty abstract; I still need to get through the physics of it in class.” After practice, the two became immediately surrounded by juniors, more so favouring Yue than Gwen, who had a reputation as the illegitimate daughter of an underworld mob boss. “Can I get you a bottle of water?” someone asked eagerly. “Two.” Yue was shameless. “Alright!” A boy ran off happily. “…” Gwen blinked at Yue with judgemental eyes. “Hey,” Yue sniggered. “I only exploit those who are willing.” Gwen shook her head. “When's Elvia finishing?” Elvia wasn't with the girls. The healer undertook specialised training in mundane Medical Triage as well as magical healing. The School couldn't find an Instructor willing to teach just one student, so Elvia's family provided their own. As it were, she was now presided over by her uncle, a senior Cleric. When the two returned to the dorms, each holding a gift of chilled mineral water, they were greeted by a jubilant Elvia. "Hey." Yue glanced at the clock. "Elvia, you had dinner yet?" The blonde girl shook her head. "That's what I like to hear." Yue grinned expansively. "We're heading to my place. My mum's made dumplings!" Elvia blinked. "You know." Yue made a shape with her hand. "Wontons? Jiaozi?" Elvia shook her little blonde head. Yue took the tiny girl by the shoulder, feeling her nervous bones creak. "Alright, mate." she grinned. "You're in for a treat!" Yue had her house in the suburban sector of Forrestville, roughly thirty minutes away from Blackwattle via public transport. Where Gwen's apartment was nestled in a forest of concrete habitat blocks, Yue's two-bedroom abode was caught between two six-storey flats, reminding Gwen of the house from UP. "Here we are!" Yue opened the groaning gate. Her father had done his best, but there was so much one could do for corrugated iron. Elvia stood on the dying grass of Yue's front lawn and took in the distended scent of heavy industry that permeated the suburb. Only two streets away, the housing gave way to an industrial zone filled with warehouses. Before the flats went up, Yue's house had enjoyed the sun. Now, it rested permanently in shadow. Even here, developers were a plague, Gwen observed. It must be a universal constant. "Bai Yue, welcome home!" "Good evening, Mrs Bai." Gwen bowed. Flustered, Elvia quickly bowed as well, sending a cascade of flaxen strands flowing over her shoulders. "Oh..." Yue's mother made an 'O' with her lips. "Who is this?" "I am Elvia Lindholm." Elvia curtseyed. Yue's mother audibly gulped. "She's the healer friend," Yue interjected helpfully. "The one I've been telling you all about." Elvia looked up with her big blue eyes. "HOW WONDERFUL!" Yue's mother gushed, drunk on Elvia's adorable presence. "COME IN! COME IN!" The girls entered. Gwen had always envied Yue's home, this world or the last. Though cramped and narrow, it was lived-in and homely. The corridor leading to the living room was filled with Lumen-pics, decorating the walls eclectically. The living room itself was plushly carpeted, possessing an old fireplace in front of which Mr Bai had read picture books to a young Gwen and Yue. Besides the modest living space was a cramped kitchen-dining combo: a domain entirely strange to Gwen, whose father rarely if ever cooked, and whose personal culinary expertise consisted only of instant ramen and Spam. Had Forrestville not been such a Mecca for street food, Gwen and Percy would have grown into the teenagehood knowing just toast and Vegemite, a cheap but potent form of quasi-magical compost. Mrs Bai settled the girls around the dining table; a beaten old thing accompanied only three seats. "Food's almost ready. You girls must be hungry!" Gwen and Elvia watched marvelled as Yue's NoM mother suddenly appeared as if she possessed multiple sets of limbs, chopping, frying, stirring, mixing and plating all at once while multiple pots bubbled on the stove. She returned a few minutes later with a steaming heap of pork and cabbage Jaozi. "I made it with Wildland pork," Yue's mother stated proudly. "It's a rare treat! Eat up!" Yue mixed the dipping sauces for her two friends while Elvia struggled with her chopsticks. "Like this-" Gwen demonstrated with one hand. "The index finger and the middle finger should be pressing against the moving stick, while the stationary stick rests against the phalanx." Elvia was quick on the uptake. "Mum, are you eating?" Yue asked her mother. "Go ahead," Yue's mother smiled sweetly. "I'll wait for your father. He likes em fresh." Eager and curious, Elvia gingerly picked up a dumpling, dipped it into the sauce Yue had prepared, then placed it into her mouth. "!!!" Her ocean-blue orbs grew large. Pain, pleasure, scalding meat-soup, spicy and savouriness struck her tongue at once. "Evee!" Gwen gasped. "It's HOT! There's soup inside! Oh my God, Yue, you didn't tell her?" Yue popped a boiling dumpling into her mouth. "Its fine to me." "You're a tier 4 Fire Mage!" Gwen chided her friend. "We don't have heat resistance!" "Oh?" Yue touched her lips. Looking at Elvia, she realised her friend was in genuine pain. "Shit, sorry Evee. I'll get you some water." Having caught the commotion, Yue's mother returned with a glass of cold water. Elvia waved the cup away. "Hwealing Tooch!" she announced, wincing as she incanted the Clerical cantrip. "Oh Lord... my goodness." "Are you alright?" Gwen asked worriedly. Yue's mother trembled by the bench, not knowing if she should apologise or disappear. "Delicious!" Elvia beamed, surprising all of them. "Thank you, Ma'am." "Oh... I am no Ma'am... haha..." Yue's mother squirmed. Yue's cloudly mien lightened. She had thought Elvia would have left, or at least berated her. Gwen caught the sparkle in Elvia's eyes and marvelled at the girl's emotional intelligence. It wasn't often that someone could overcome their agony, especially when it was dealt by the ignorance of another. Gwen felt happy to be right, Elvia was beyond precious! She was an angel inside and out. "It IS delicious, isn't it?!" Gwen joined in. "Break it apart first and let the steam and the soup out." "It's SO GOOD," Elvia beamed at Yue's mother. The poor woman had been sweating buckets when the healer held her mouth. As a NoM, she had an innate fear of Mages that was difficult to dispel even after a decade in Sydney. "I've got other flavours too!" Mrs Bai uttered jubilantly. "Just you wait, I've got prawn dumplings made with Wildland chives!" "My favourite!" Gwen hailed the prospect of chive-dumplings, though not its room-clearing farts. Yue raised a glass of water. Gwen met her half-way. Elvia fumbled for a cup. "To dumplings!" "To Mrs Bai!" "To us!" "Cheers!" The asymmetrical collection of glasses clinked; joining the sound of clattering chopsticks, hissing steam, and the trilling laughter of women.

Spring ended with November; then summer came on with its stifling heat. Fair-skinned and petite, Elvia wilted like a rare white flower. Gwen likewise melted in a most un-ladylike manner, legs akimbo, a spaghetti-string singlet loosely hung over one shoulder, its sheer cotton stuck to her stomach like wet rice paper. She must have died, and this is hell, Gwen moped. What kind of magical world lacked air conditioning? She hadn't experienced an Aussie summer without air-conditioning since she left home at sixteen. Even the youth hostel had air-con. Beside the sweltering Gwen, Yue was as cool as a cucumber; her affinity for Fire meant she naturally regulated heat in her body. Gwen's bodacious companion wore a comfortable singlet that barely hung on for dear life. “How come.” Yue looked at her friend. “How come we both bought small, and your one fits?” “Humblebrag?” Gwen moaned, too tired to return a volley. “Funbags,” Elvia added an acute observation. “What have you being teaching her?” Gwen wailed. “My innocent Evee is despoiled!” “They grow up so fast.” Yue sobbed. “Just the other day she was making eyes at a boy.” “I was not!” Elvia protested. “No no!” Gwen wailed, "Evee is mine! For now and forever!" The girls fell about in laughter, making the room hotter. 'Knock! Knock!' “Ahem!” A cough came from the doorway; the door opened just a peep. "I er... knocked, but you all appeared to be pre-occupied," mumbled a voice from the hallway. Gwen grabbed the closest linen, though her modesty proved was a futile effort; she was too tall for the meagre fabric. Besides her, Elvia dived for her bed, throwing a silken shaw over her cut-off shorts. "Oh yeah..." Yue seemed to recall something. "I invited a cooling glyph." The door opened. A young man about the girls' age entered nervously. "I am not er... interrupting anything am I?" asked the young man apprehensively. "Thank the Magus you are here." Yue bounced up to greet the young man. Their guest averted his eyes. On his right, Gwen was looking defensive and hostile, to his left, Elvia hissed like a cat. Trapped, their intruder found great interest in the old art-deco lighting fixtures. "Ladies..." Yue placed her hands together. "This is Jun, a wonderful young man whom I have recruited to our cause." She nodded at Jun, who was still reeling at the girl's attire. "Jun, do the thing." The girls turned to look at Jun, who was now the colour of beetroot. "Excuse me," Jun muttered, making the circular Sigil of the school of Abjuration. A sound of crinkling filled the air, then the temperature plummeted. A thin sheet of ice seemed to form in the air around Jun, before finally coalescing into a semi-dome ball of frost that radiated cold. Yue flourish with a bow, twirling her off-hand floridly. "Ta da~ " The heat in the room dissipated and a cool breeze began to circulate. Gwen felt as though she was in one of those improbable air conditioning commercials where hot and bothered women became emancipated by Mitsubishi split-air systems. Yue patted the cushion of the two-seat couch in a come-hither manner. "Sit." Hawkishly, the trio watched as Jun sat on the edge of the couch, scratching his nose nervously. "This is Jun Murrow." Yue paused for dramatic effect. "Abjurer, affinity 2, Ice." Elvia's blue eyes peeked out from behind her pillow. Gwen straightened her singlet before shaking Jun's hand. "Jun." "Gwen." "Elvia," Elvia called out from afar. "Hi." Silence reigned. “So, as you know,” Yue broke the ice. “We have our Field Trip soon. I figured we should pick the good fruit before they’re gone, that sort of thing.” She motioned to Jun. “I asked around for the best Abjurer in our curriculum, and now we have him. Applause, ladies!” The girls golf-clapped. “Ahem, thank you. It's good to be here.” Jun’s eyes scanned the room, falling toward his enviable audience. “As Yue stated… I am a Quasi-Elemental Mage like you Gwen,” Jun began. “We Ice Mages tap into the space between the Air and Water elements.” Gwen nodded. “Few elements are as stable as Ice,” Jun continued with a hint of pride. “Especially with Abjuration, we can create Shields and walls that are both transparent and hardy.” “Whereas Lightning…” Jun's stated with admiration. “Lighting is the most volatile, but a real showstopper. Perfect for Evocation.” “Does us sharing the Air element do anything?” Gwen enquired. "Synergy, for example." “Unfortunately no,” Jun replied with a wave of his hand. “At least, not that I know of. Lightning doesn't interact well with anything. A water Mage and I could synergise something impregnable, but I doubt Fire, Air, or Water could do anything for you. In fact, I am fairly sure Earthen Mages counter Lightning.” I bet water could conduct Lightning, Gwen mused. Some of the potential energy may be lost, but it should be feasible. Watching Jun and Gwen converse, Yue nudged Elvia. Gwen turned to see Yue wiggling her brows at her. Rolling her eyes, she threw a towel at her overimaginative friend. “Sorry, they're just kids," Gwen apologised. "Look, Jun, I think its pretty obvious that we're all inexperienced. It's going to be our first time. Can you lend us a hand?" Stolen novel; please report. "..." Yue's expressive brows once again came to life. Elvia's face glowed a hot-pink. Admirably, Gwen's inopportune expressions flew over Jun's head. "What do you want to know?" "What's our role in an Adventuring Party?" Gwen inquired. "I mean, how does it work? We've never Adventured before." "Okay." Jun took a moment to begin. "Essentially, a perfect Party has FIVE members, each with unique roles. The Scout is typically an Air Mage with Transmutation or Divination. The Tank is an Abjurer, typically Earth attuned. The Damage Dealers are usually Conjurers, Evokers, or Transmuters. And Utility is taken up by Diviners, an Enchanters, or an Illusionists. In the best case scenario, the Utility is a Healer who can Buff, Heal and Dispel." “How would the setup work with us four?” “Good question." Jun scratched his nose again. "I believe we have excellent synergy.” “Fire Evokers have widespread damage over a huge area. Lightning Evokers have instant pin-point damage. Both are extremely accomplished between tier 1 and 3, with the firepower of say, multiple Air or Earthen Acolytes.” “I am pretty confident myself as a Tank, and with my affinity, I could stand in for two basic level Abjurers at the very least. As an Abjurer, I can instantly create hard Shields mid-air, good for blocking both physical and elemental attacks. If we have access to a water source, I can even manage Shield walls." "For our team, I'd say the game-changer is Elvia. With a healer, we can ramp up our hunting speed immensely, even if we are a little reckless. Having a Cleric makes the 'survival' aspect of the Field Trip rather trivial." Ah~, Gwen nodded affirmatively. Elvia, of course. Theirs would be the only team with a Healer in the entire school. How could they lose a survival competition if they could negate the inconvenience of inevitable injury? "That's all fine and dandy, but Yue did advise you that we're just a few months into our training, right?” Gwen confessed dubiously. "I doubt we can chain more than a dozen spells at the moment. Not to mention that Elvia isn't yet certified - are you Evee?" "I need to pass the medical tier 1 examination first.” Elvia shook her head. “There's still two months until the Field Trip,” Jun proclaimed confidently. “Not a problem with your affinity and resources.” "What can you tell us about the Field Trip itself, Jun?" Gwen continued. "Well, it takes place near the Royal National Park, deep down the coastal area. The area south of it was never really reclaimed, just kind of 'cleansed' a few times- it's now infested with low-level creepers." "Horned-Rabbits and angry Wombats?" Gwen thought about her Magical Creatures classes with its absurdly thick Monster manual. "A little more advanced than that I hope!" Jun jovially quipped, "We're talking more the garden variety of sentient magical beings, like Goblins." "Goblins..." Gwen still couldn't believe there were Goblins in this world. The critters were not the green-skins of yore though, but humanoid creatures gifted animation by the magical residue of the Wildlands. The Bestiary stated that when enough elemental essence coalescence in an area, it attracted spirits sensitive to that element and gave them material form. Within the bestiary, Goblins referred explicitly to the malignant little creatures that formed where Earth and Fire elements were particularly strong. Lesser Goblins, or Snotlings, were little more than mindless animals that scavenged for food, while an adult Goblin could take down a grown man with its claws and teeth, ultimately becoming a Hob, a human-sized, flesh-eating creature of immense cunning. "Have you ever seen a Goblin before?" Gwen asked. “Seen 'em and killed dozens." Jun's eyes clouded over with remembrance, "It was when we got to one of the outposts down near Wollongong. The little buggers had overrun a mining camp, and were busy trying to get to the workers in their Construction-Golems." "What happened?" "Well, the workers were there to dig up crystals. Unfortunately, they struck a warren. When the golems came through, they broke into the tribe's main chamber, and the Gobs came flooding out like hornets." "When my Party finally got there, the critters had already murdered a few of the workers. The rest locked themselves up in their construction golems, waiting for rescue. If you want to know what they look like, the ones we saw were different. They had these little horns they used for head-butting and carried these nasty obsidian clubs, They could even walk on walls, like spiders." "That's disgusting..." Elvia gasped. The trio sat around the Abjurer, hugging their knees to their chests, hanging onto every word. "So..." Gwen wanted to hear the important parts. "How did you... kill them?" "We had a fire Evoker with us, but the Gobs were resistant to fire, so our Air Mage and I had to double duty. He used Gust spells to slam them onto the walls, and I froze them in place with Creeping Frost and my Shields. The Water Transmuter ended up performing most of the defence because the Goblins had a tough time getting their small bodies through the Water Barrier." Gwen leaned in closer, a dozen questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. “… so finally, we popped the warren, and there were hundreds of the little buggers running around trying to get through the Shield. The fire Mage ended up throwing half a dozen Fire Balls at the cavern until it collapsed on the whole chamber, sealing the shaft.” Gwen considered the information she had just received and knew that there was something she had to ask, something she had never done. "How does it feel to kill something." She inquired carefully. Jun visibly struggled to describe the strange, sickening feeling of taking life. Should he explain the sounds the Goblins made as the ice crawled up their spine? The crunch as their scaly-skin broke? The screaming and the yelping as they burned? The yellow ichor that oozed from their orifices? "It will be hard at first," Jun replied finally. "The 'being' you're attacking had been alive, and now it's dead. I could describe the ichor and the smell, but it's something you have to experience yourself." "The animals are not so bad..." Jun paused. “But Demi-humanoid Magical Creatures will test you. Some of them get pretty lifelike. The biggest thing I saw was a Hob, watching it get cut down by a barrage of Magic Missiles was no different to seeing a man die.” Jun's voice trailed off. Only the sound of soft breathing and perspiration transpired through the dorm room. 'Snap!' With a pop, Jun's ball of frost collapsed. The room once again felt stifling. “I hope we can work well together,” Jun announced seriously. “Yeah,” Gwen agreed. “Thanks for the heads up.” “Thank you,” added Elvia, her complexion paler for the wisdom. “Well, there's still the summer break, then a couple of weeks until your exams." Jun pushed up his spectacles and grinned at the girls. "I haven't agreed to anything other than I'll wait. You need to show me that my trust is well-founded." "Alright," Yue announced excitedly. "I am pumped! We're gonna rock that test!" Yue leaned in aggressively. "Jun, you're not going to join another team, right?” Yue watched as Jun's eyes pivoted to and fro. The crude manner of Yue's strategic presentation made Gwen vomit a little in her mouth. "Promise?" "Of.. of course." Jun stammered. Gwen wondered if his glasses would fog up, but then again, an ice Mage naturally had a lowered body temperature. Jun escaped before Yue could push him to make another promise. Yue had an extroverted, forceful personality; Jun was passive and humble. Fire and ice, Gwen mused, was there a correlation there? Gwen consulted a mental Astral-chart to recall what her oppositional element was and find it to be Dust. The Quasi-elemental Plane of Dust, consisting of nothing but death and the erosion of time and space. What kind of Mage would that be? Who could even awaken to such a thing? Gwen shuddered, imagining a grey old man with a constant air of apathy, dandruff falling like fallout about his head. When the door finally closed, Yue turned to her companions. "That was embarrassing," Yue confessed. So you do feel embarrassment. Gwen patted her friend on the head. "Well done!" "Would you expect anything less?" Yue raised a mischievous brow, assuming a hands-on-hip power pose, expecting praise for her negotiators. "Arrr I am so jealous!" Elvia blurted. "What are you eating! " "Well, there is a secret..." Yue sauntered closer to the unsuspecting Elvia before hugging her tightly. "Hot! Hot! Hot! It's TOO HOT Yue!" Elvia moaned. "How can your body temp be so high? I am dying!" "Feels alright to me." Yue giggled mischievously. Gwen felt the ambient temperature soar. The air-conditioned hour they shared with Jun felt so far away. "You sure that your family can't just install air or water-based conditioning Glyphs here?" "Nup." Elvia moped sadly, feeling sweat pouring from her ivory skin after Yue's heated assault. "Rawson said that the building is Warded. We're not allowed to install foreign Enchantments." "Gar~ Get away from me woman!" Gwen yelped as Yue snuck towards her, hoping to spread some more misery. In the end, it was too hot even to move. Gwen sat on the wooden desk, sweating into the grain. Elvia laid on her bed like a corpse. "I touched a dead body the other day." Elvia declared suddenly. Both Yue and Gwen froze. "At the clinic!" Elvia corrected herself just in case the girls thought she was responsible for the cadaver. "A worker was attacked. He succumbed to his injuries. My uncle got me to sit in on the autopsy." The other two girls listened quietly, the subject efficiently chilling the room. "I watched Uncle go through the... organs, and he took them out and showed them to me one by one. There was so much it, the heart, the lungs, the liver..." "The man had been alive only hours before, but now he was dead and being taken apart for studies. I wanted to vomit, but Uncle said that I had to see this sooner or later because no matter how good a Mage can be, there will come a day..." The song of cicadas filled the humid air. "I want to be the one to heal you if that ever happens." Elvia intoned solemnly, "I'll never let either of you die!" Gwen's throat became swollen as her eyes welled with moisture; her heart throbbed with maternal love and boundless affection. "... and we'll protect you too, always," Yue solemnly declared. "Aye," Gwen concurred, her hazel eyes full of conviction. There was nothing else to be said. The girls smiled as one, happy in their naive promise.

_Putt! Putt! Putt!_ The training dummy split in twain with a resounding 'crack!' as several stone-tipped Magic Missiles cracked its wooden surface, sending up a cloud of fragments. The area around the dummy next shimmered; a mana Shield made opaque by dust, rock, and assorted sediments materialised. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The mana shield remained immovable as the missile shattered against it, but a section of it became chipped where a projectile had struck, penetrating some of its exterior and sending spiralling shards to bounce off its interior. "B" "C" "B" The instructors announced. "Would you like another attempt?" "No sir, I believe this is my current limit," the earthen Abjurer announced sadly. He had already surpassed the expectant ten consecutive incantations but could do nothing more about the lacklustre power. That was a problem of both School and affinity. "Very well, you may go." The exam took place, much to Gwen's dismay, in public and before the assembly of Spellcraft students deemed eligible for the Field Trip. There was at least a hundred of the gathered cohort. Gwen sighed. It wasn't so much that she resented presentations or speeches - she loved those - she disliked being judged for the sake of being judged. Half the day had passed, and half the students remained, waiting the drawing of their lots. So far, neither Gwen or Yue had been chosen. Yue suspected with a confident smirk that the other students were just the opening act and that the inspectors were saving the best for last. Though Gwen was sceptical, she could see that Yue's hypothesis had some merit. None of the other students with highly attuned affinity had presented themselves yet. They watched as an Air Mage cut down half a dozen dummies, marvelling at the speed of her smooth, acrobatic movements through the obstacle course. Each element had their distinct advantages; the Air Mage's defence proved woeful, her mana Shield barely holding against two of the instructor's missiles. Then a familiar face appeared: Debora, Gwen's old childhood friend who had bickered with them on the day of the Awakening, took to the stage. Since their spiteful rendezvous, Gwen had kept herself from Debora's presence. Debora had grown taller somehow, more alluring; her signature long legs appeared more muscular and sculpted than before. Gwen knew that Earthen Mages all possessed exceptional stamina, constitution and strength- that those with high affinity eventually possessed rock solid, chiselled bodies akin to marble statues. The once-heavy mass of Debora's auburn hair had been bundled up into a knotted ponytail, giving her the air of a track athlete. Cries of audacious exhalation went up from the crowd as Debora entered. Though Debora had always been a queen-bee type as a junior, she worked hard as well. During their training, Gwen and Yue had heard nothing but praise for the 'genius' of Class 3 from the Instructors. "Catapult!" Debora began with a classic, offensive Transmutation spell, launching a fifty-odd kilogram projectile in the shape of a spiked ball towards the target. 'Catapult' was the Transmuter's version of Magic Missile. There was no auto-guidance, but the spell packed a far stronger wallop. Debora's wrecking ball arched gracefully through the air, meeting the wooden dummy in violent matrimony. The mannequin shattered spectacularly, sending up a spray of splinters. The stone rolled on for another dozen metres, taking out several back-up dummies. "Catapult!... Catapult!... Catapult!..." She incanted in quick succession, and a barrage of boulders devastated the field. The crowd cheered and clapped, Debora wasn't even breaking a sweat. "I think she's at least tier 3 affinity now." An instructor observed. "Wonderfully smooth mana conversion, almost no lag or wasted potential." "I concur." Gwen heard another Instructor speak before feeling an acidic twang. Debora then walked into the field. As she sauntered, her skin turned a deep bronze, becoming coarse and rigid. Bronze Skin? Bark Skin? That was a tier 2 Transmutation spell! Gwen blinked. Were they doing Tier 2 spells already? "Are you certain about this?" An instructor asked. "Yessir, you have my consent," Debora replied, smiling bravely. “Though not my hair, Sir. I will have it styled more appropriately for the Field Trip." The instructors nodded as one, then began. A barrage of three missiles flew towards Debora and struck her on the chest, the arm and the leg. She barely flinched as a few motes of stones fell. Her Earthen armour remained impenetrable. "Very good!" one of the Instructors announced. More barrages followed; it was only on the tenth strike that finally a chunk of the armour chipped off, and Debora fell to one knee. She walked back towards the demonstration platform, dramatically turning to unleash one more spell. "Stone Blast!" A simmering glow appeared beneath a dummy before the pavement suddenly sprouted half a dozen spikes, piercing blonde wood and sending the torso flying a good ten meters. Another Tier 2 Transmutation spell! Gwen's delicate brows knitted apprehensively. Debora was kicking ass. "Debora sure is special!" Someone behind Gwen remarked appreciatively. "A" "A" "S" The grading was unanimous. "Geez, first High Distinction and we're sixty people down already!" Gwen saw Debora turn to look through the crowd. She felt Yue tensing beside her. From across the assembly, their eyes locked. You think you have talent? What I have is what hard work gets you, Debora's eyes seemed to taunt them. I am every bit as good as you think you are. "I am going to enjoy this." Yue spat beside Gwen. "Looks like Debby need a good spanking." Gwen felt caught between two colliding forces. She felt respect for Debora. After all, had Debora being a company colleague, Gwen herself would have felt nothing but praise for someone so driven and dedicated to their craft. But Yue was never one to leave a slight unmolested. A few more students came and went. “You’re going to show them ‘that’ already?” Gwen whispered, watching Yue rubbing her hands together. "Her holier than thou purist attitude pisses me off," Yue snarled, baring her teeth. “Watch me rock her world. I wonder what she'll think after she gets her ass ripped by an Asian half-NoM." "Yue Bai. No. 14002. Yue Bai." "I am up!" Yue's presence drew envious glances and wanton stares. "See you on the other side!" "Miss Bai." The Instructor nodded when Yue made her way up the platform to the sound of applause. Gwen could swear that the crowd was chanting 'Yue! Yue! Yue!' "I am ready." Yue turned to the field and watched the Dummies conjured into place. "I shall begin." "Firebolt!" A dazzling arc of fire flew through the air like a falling star and struck the dummy. The force of it splintered the wood cinematically, before engulfing the target in an explosion that left nothing but a smoking stump. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The crowd collectively took in a breath. That was a Tier 1 spell?! How did she make Magic Missile explode? Were there two stages to the Evocation spell? "Astounding display Miss Bai," the Instructor's praise was full of approval. "To think you could place an unstable mote within the frame of the missile particle.” "Yessir, but the missile is no longer self-guiding," Yue answered honestly. That was beyond the girls' knowledge of rudimentary Spellcraft. "A distance to go before you perfect it then, do you intend to craft a Signature spell?" A Signature Spell was a spell that solely belonged to a single Mage, not taught in the general curriculum. It was the hallmark of a skilled mage to create unique incantations, and almost all the noted Magus had their unique incantations. "Yessir." "I would advise patience then." The instructor advised warmly, "There are far more resources when you arrive at university and have access to senior instructors who are more attuned to elemental Fire." "Thank you, Sir." “You may continue.” Yue gathered her wits once again, and the air around her became scorchingly hot. “Barrage!” With a burst of fiery mana, Yue conjured a dozen fire bolts and fired them off at different angles in a vertical line. A line of explosions shook the field, sending dummies flying every way, cutting a deep channel in the splintered bedrock. The pyrotechnic fireworks shook the ground and forced students to conjure Mana Shields to intercept the flying debris. “By the Magus!” “Holy hell!” someone screamed over the cacophony. “Are we really in a high school division?” “Nothing's surviving that…” The air cleared. All the dummies were gone. “Incredible,” an instructor marvelled. “Indeed, marvellous,” another concurred. Despite their high praise, the Instructors still offered essential criticisms. Her incomplete-signature spell took too much mana; it lacked focus each explosion was inconsistent, and so on. “Are you able to continue?” The third inquired. “Yes,” Yue's chest rose and fell. “One last spell.” Yue invoked her Mana Shield. “Blast Shield!” Fire Mages had offensive shields that worked wonders on melee opponents but had severe limitations against ranged attacks. As Yue manifested, a shimmering, glowing Shield surrounded her in a half-dome. “Another Signature Spell!” Three missiles shrieked towards Yue. As the projectiles struck the Fire Mage's Shield, a volatile reaction spat forth gouts of orange flame. The first missile exploded. The second skimmed the Shield. The third, however, penetrated her shield and struck Yue on the shoulder. The force of the impact drove her toward the ground. “Yue!” Gwen cried out. “I am fine.” Yue waved back, nursing her collarbone. “Looks like that modified spell still needs work,” one of the Instructors commented. “Yessir,” Yue admitted. “It's far from ready.” “Good concept though, if you can somehow accelerate your reaction…” “Indeed…” “I believe there's a Magus at the Sydney Tower who has designed a similar spell. Perhaps, if you are interested, I can ask the faculty to put you in contact with the Magus.” “Thank you, Sir.” “I'll be honest with you.” Another instructor's criticism was sterner. “You are wasting too much time on creating these spells, Yue. The basics are the foundation of Spellcrafting, and you need to have a solid foundation before venturing into new things. These spells are as dangerous for your enemies as your allies if you cannot control them well. My recommendation is to forgo these fancies, at least for now.” Yue nodded solemnly. “After the Field Test,” The instructor added. “You will have team and survival training; please focus on that to the best of your abilities. No distractions.” “Yessir, I'll try my best,” Yue answered seriously, “S” “S” “B” S stood for supersede. An achievement beyond what could be measured by the Senior performance metric. The first mark was for effective damage. The second was for speed and or stamina. The third was for defence and utility. The Fire element was a naturally offensive element, though Yue’s attempt at innovation by using offence to offset defence was commendable. Yue returned to Gwen surrounded by the cheers of their peers. Not, however, before she found Debora in the crowd and gave her the bird. “You had me worried when that missile went through.” Gwen took her friend by the shoulder and gave her arm a soft prod. "Eee Yarh!” Yue hissed. “Yep, it's gonna swell for sure.” "If only Elvia were here..." Gwen lamented. "She's got a whole other thing going. Much more difficult than us grunts, ha!" A dozen more students had their turns, some failing, some succeeding, but none matched the rating given to Debora and Yue. Gwen awaited her turn with bated breath. Eventually, it came. "Gwen Song. No. 14026." The gathered assembly had no cheers nor applause for Gwen. Gwen reached the platform and met the benevolent gaze of three Instructors. "We have heard good things from Principle Bartlett," one of them spoke benevolently. "It is rare to see a Quasi-elementalist in action, and an offensive caster at that." An array of target dummies moved into position. Deep breath! Focus. Do it like you always do, Gwen assured herself. She turned to face her wooden opponents and tapped into the Sigil, sensing it burst into brilliance within her mind. She pointed rather flamboyantly towards one of the wooden figures and spoke the incantation that she had practised a thousand times before. “Blast Bolt!" The smell of hot ozone filled the air, mixing with the unstable Positive Energy. A shunt of electricity split the air. 'Crack!' A flash, followed by a thunderous 'crack' filled the field with light and sound. Lightning! The crowd gasped. The power of the Gods themselves! The purest form of absolute destruction. A cloud of dust rose into the air, obscuring all sight. WHO COULD SURVIVE THE FIST OF HEAVEN ITSELF? The crowd cooed. SUCH POWER. The moment of awe passed. The dust settled. The assembly stared dumbfounded at an intact dummy. The faceless Dummy stared at Gwen, dumbfounded. She missed. Gwen Song missed the target. Oh. My. God. Gwen's mind turned as brilliantly white as her bolt of plasma. I MISSED THE FUCKING TARGET! She screamed internally. "Did she miss?" Someone asked. People began to laugh out loud. "She missed the dummy!" "Oh my God, this is too good!" "What the hell!" "Ha! What an idiot!" "I knew she was just a vase!" The laughter spread like the tide, some of the students were so overcome that they doubled over trying to breathe. "SILENCE!" An enhanced auditory spell blasted across the assembly. "Continue," said one of the instructors. "Don't be so nervous. That was a wonderful manifest." Gwen nodded, trying to block out the stifled mockery filling the space between her ears. Show them what you can do. Gwen thought to herself. Show the world what you can do. Her Evocation Sigil flared, sending a torrent of lightning-charged mana into her conduits. Gwen raised her hand, a finger extended towards the heavens, then swiftly pointed downwards. "Blast Bolt!" The roar of her incantation rang out through the field. Those close to her instantaneously felt their hair rose to a stand-still. A vacuum formed above the dummies. A blue-purple shriek of lightning cut through the air and struck the closest scarecrow. The wood grew bright before exploding into ten-thousand pieces, sundered into motes of ash and dust. The obliteration was so complete that not even the stump remained, leaving only a half metre crate. Before the first arc faded, another arc cut through the air, obliterating another dummy. Then another, and another. Shards of lightning filled the air, indiscriminately ravaging the world within the radius of the spell, increasing in frequency. Gwen felt her mana pool drain like snowmelt at springtime, pouring into the white-hot Sigil. More! The exhilaration thrilled her to the core. I can do more! A final bolt of lightning struck the ground, a beam of solid light, blinding all within sight. A shockwave expanded from the epicentre, send out a concentric ring of dust. As the particles settled, there remained only decimated stumps amidst a criss-cross of molten sand-turned-glass. Gwen felt her knees give out as mana drain came on. Pulling herself up by the hair, she stood through force of will. "Magnificent." "Can we even do that as a Senior Mage?” One of the instructors quipped. "Sure, but I am fifty, and she's fifteen..." The instructors observed the devastation. That was the same chained signature spell that Yue was using but elementally charged with lightning; a multi-cast of Fire Bolt given a new form. Though it was not well known, it was an observed phenomenon that an area charged with positive energy gave rise to greater lightning manifests. It meant that for each subsequent bolt striking the same location, the following strike was substantially stronger. The question, of course, was how was Gwen controlling the direction of the blasts so accurately as to converge? The assembly of students picked their jaws off the floor. "Are we still at a high school level?" "Surely military mages are only about this powerful?" The crowd went wild with speculation. Gwen regarded her handiwork with a feeling of satisfaction. For someone schooled in the scientific method, it wasn’ that difficult. One time, she fumbled a spell and left excessive motes of positive energy at the location. She subsequently found that all her other strikes kept becoming redirected to this particular spot. Testing and experimentation ensured, and she found herself a little knack for directing lightning bolts. Since then, she had named her first attack as the 'Guiding Bolt'. "Can you continue?" Gwen nodded, summoning a second wind. She made the gesture of the circle, forming within her mind the Shield spell, and channelled into it whatever mana she had remaining. "Please, I can't hold this for much longer. Sir," Gwen replied between clenched teeth. The choice was as much tactical as it was necessary. Only Abjurers could hold Shields indefinitely, and only Abjurers could generate a shield for others. For all other schools of Mages, a Shield was the last resort of self-preservation. During duels or in competitions, getting past the enemy Abjurer to force enemy Mages into 'Shield-Break' was the victory condition. Once a Mage lost their Shield, they were just flesh and blood humans. Gwen's mana shield was pale blue, with the occasional spark leaping off its sides. Like all Lightning shields, it was an offensive barrier. "Ready yourself," the Instructors forewarned. Three missiles shrieked through the air and struck Gwen's Shield. The first missile burst into a brilliant ball of light upon contact, consumed by the triggering of the Shield's capacitative energy. The second cut through the electrical barrier, missing her torso. The third pierced the Shield with a sound of breaking glass and struck Gwen squarely in the chest, sending her stumbling backwards and onto her buttocks. "Gwen!" Now it was Yue's turn to worry. The instructors breathed out. Much of Spellcraft operated on a balance of power. Abjuration was tough and impenetrable but weak in the offence department. Transmutation was versatile but unexceptional in defence or offence. Evocation Mages had incredible aggression, but tend to be glass cannons. "S" "A" "B" The verdict was out - Gwen passed with flying colours. All the tension drained from her body. She had not disappointed Yue, and she had not disappointed herself. Half a year of nothing but hard work, working through Christmas, Boxing Day and New Year, had paid off. The instructors then offered advice on tuning Gwen's spells for stamina and endurance, discussing possible scenarios and weaknesses. Gwen listened attentively and noted each of their concerns for the future. "Congratulations Gwen!" "Good work!" "Nice!" The crowd was finally warming up to her. Gwen wanted to hail back, but she was dizzy with exhaustion. Her whole body felt drained of energy, wanting collapse somewhere and rest. I need to work on this mana conservation business, Gwen cautioned herself. The last thing Gwen recalled was getting back to Yue before falling into her friend. "Woa there, hold it steady!" Gwen heard Yue cry out. "Miss! I am taking Gwen to the infirmary!"

Gwen awoke, presided over by a resplendent angel in a trainee's scrubs. The Celestial looked just like Elvia; only she was attaching an I.V drip onto Gwen's wrist. “Healing Word." A familiar tingle of Positive energy infused Gwen's chest, stitching her bruised flesh. Slowly, her throbbing injury dissolved until all discomfort ceased. Gradually, Gwen's refocused eyes became drawn to a silver-winged badge on Elvia's collar, consisting of two crossed staves with twin serpents. "Congrats on getting your licence..." Gwen languished voice addressed her companion. "Thanks," Elvia replied, her cheeks as fresh as pippins, but then the girl's tone took on a sterner note. "Why did you and Yue both get injured! That's so irresponsible! I wasn't even there!" Gwen felt a pang of guilt. In hindsight, the impression she had made was matched only by her recklessness. "I couldn't have summoned the Shield otherwise..." She tried to explain logically. "It took everything I had, next time..." "Hmmph!" Elvia snorted. "There won't be a 'next' time, at least not without me nearby!" "Sure thing, Evee," Gwen touched her friend's slim white fingers in an attempt to appease her upset. "How was your test?" "Fine, though I wasn't in danger, not like you guys," Elvia recollected. “It was difficult having to triage twenty patients by myself, but everyone did fine. Uncle had to make minor adjustments, but I passed with flying colours." "I am glad to hear it." Gwen breathed out. The door of the infirmary opened without so much as a knock. "She awake?" Yue entered the room like a storm. "Yeah, just about." "Hey, Yue." "Gwen!" Yue leaned into the bed and gave her friend a suffocating hug. "I got some great news! Because of the school's crop of 'advanced' students, we're going to have a personal instructor! The Sydney Tower is sending one of their own!" A private Instructor? Gwen mused. That IS good news. Ordinarily only the elite private schools had individual Instructors. "Other than that, how are you feeling?" "I am just a bit tired," Gwen confessed. "The drip is a saline solution, it should get your hydration up," Elvia informed them. "I am afraid I haven't learned Lesser Restoration yet." "Take another nap,” Yue advised. "You totally out of mana." "I think I will." “One more thing.” Yue stopped by the door, trailed by Elvia. “You’re up for another session at the Cog Chamber. The Principal says to get it done as soon as you can. Before the Instructor arrives.” "Alright." A second session would be immensely helpful, Gwen though, applauding Principal Bartlett's assistance. She needed to figure out what those strange black phenomena had been. With her friends gone, Gwen sunk into the soft linen covers of the infirmary bed and thought about the near future to come. She had finally attained her short-term goals, and now her immediate concern was the real-life trial by fire and combat. Blackwattle's top Acolytes would delve in groups deep into the Green Zone to perform mock-Quests. These were different each year, sometimes retrieving an object an examiner had planted, sometimes returning with the evidence of completing a subjugation. Her first hunt. Her first kill. Mayhap her first injury. Aye, now there's the rub. Gwen bit her lip until she tasted a hint of iron. She'd never so much as gutted a fish before, and now she was supposed to kill? Not only that, but a living 'being' in the shape of a person? Could she handle it? She wondered to herself. What would happen if a creature wounded her? She imagined herself freaking out, hysterical, unable to concentrate. She who hadn't even so much as broken an arm in all her years - now had to contend with the possibility of a Magical Beast ripping out a chunk of her flesh. More importantly- Could she stay cool if Yue or Elvia got seriously injured? Would she freeze, freak out, or flee? Elvia stayed behind after her shift and waited for Gwen to wake before going home together. The dorm had set up a small celebratory dinner for the victors; when the duo entered the communal dining, cheers and applause welcomed them to the tune of pyrotechnical cantrips. Dinner was already in full swing amidst a sumptuous feast of Wildland creatures. Rawson had spared no expense, tapping deep into the scullery's budget to make a meal worthy of Blackwattle's prodigies. Once again Elvia bore witness to the appetite of teenagers, with her fellow students packing away enough food to feed a battalion of soldiers. “Gwen! Elvia.” A familiar voice called out. The girls turned to see Jun, comfortable in jeans and an indy band shirt, a drink in each hand. Her future teammate had been the first to Message and congratulate them. “For us?” she took one off his hands. “Of course.” Jun had a habit of grinning with only the left side of his mouth, smiling lopsidedly. “Here we are, ladies…” A second voice greeted them. It belonged to a young man with a mop of fair hair. Their guest was clean cut in a white t-shirt and jeans, identified by a tattoo on his right hand in the form of an eye. “Henley Lucas Prince, at your service.” The young man bowed, careful not to spill the drinks he held. Gwen took the stemmed glasses and thanked their new companion. She passed one over to Elvia. “Gwen Song.” “Elvia Lindholm.” “Henley is a Diviner,” Jun spoke on his companion's behalf. “Tier 2 Air, not that it matters. He's pretty handy with Magic Missiles though.” Divination was the one school that required no particular affinity with elements. Its staple spells, however, were incredibly useful. True Strike, Detect Hostility, Detect Magic, Detect Poison and Find Traps- no other School of Magic possessed so much utility. The girls' eyes lit up. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” Henley quipped. “I can vouch for his expertise,” Jun butted in. "Though not for his personality." “I can find any lost key within a radius of three hundred meters,” Henley humbly bragged. "And mark any target so that your spells could unerringly strike it.” Gwen immediately thought of her trouble with the Guiding Bolt - the one imbued with a positive charge. Could Henley be the solution to her problems? If so, she would have to ensure that the boy was suitably loyal to their cause. Swinging the flute-glass in an arc, she turned her hazel eyes onto Henley's surprised face. Shifting her upper body, shoulders squared for maximum elegance, Gwen unleashed a devastating smile. Henley gulped, failed by his Divination. “I think she likes him,” Jun said cautiously, looking to Yue for confirmation. Yue measured Henley over from head to toe. “Hey, look but no touch,” Henley's scalp crawled. "How good's your Divination?" Yue asked. “Impeccable.” Henley’s voice took on a more flamboyant tone, “Shall I invoke the rite of Seeing and gaze into the uncertain future for you? To scry the invisible and make known the unseeable?” “Ergh, mate...” Jun's face turned bright pink. For whatever reason, all Diviners develop a tic for the theatrical. “Alright, what's Elvia thinking?” Yue pulled the surprised girl before her, presenting her before Henley like a ritual sacrifice. “Detect Thoughts!” Henley announced, a halo of sorts materialised over his head. Stolen novel; please report. “Oh no…” Elvia cowered. Where could this possibly be going? “Ask me anything about yourself…” Henley began. “Are you wearing a bra today, Evee?” her companions blurted in tandem. Elvia turned to stone as per the tier 6 Petrify. Henley’s face went from white to red, then to a deep scarlet. “Yep, he's the real deal,” Yue noted. “Very effective, good mana conversion ratio,” Gwen added professionally, sipping her coke. Elvia turned to her roommates with flashing eyes. “You guys! Hmmph!” she huffed and puffed as her friends fell about in hysterical laughter. To everyone’s surprise, she slapped Yue across the chest, then slapped Gwen across the buttocks, drawing curious eyes from around the room. Jun turned to Henley, now polymorphed into a beetroot. “You alright?” “Yeah… yeah…” He glanced at his friend cautiously, “How old did you say the healer was?” “Same age as the others, fifteen I am sure.” “Alright.” Henley looked sceptical. “What's wrong?” “…” “Well?” “… She’s not wearing a bra.” “…” “Seriously?” “Yeah…” “Poor Elvia,” Jun lamented after a moment. “Maybe she should eat what her friends are eating.” “I feel like I committed a crime,” Henley moped miserably. "She looked twelve or something." “Chin-up, we’re only sixteen you know. You’re not awakening to something strange, are you? All healers look youthful; it's the Positive Energy.” “I sure hope not…” Henley shook his head, his mind still thinking of the wondrous Bolivian salt-flats. “Anyway, that's the five of us then,” Jun continued.“ I’ll head to the Head Office and get the admin done.” “They need to sign too,” Henley added. “No problems, I’ll drop by again." They clinked and finished their drinks. “For the Field Trip!" "Aeee!" Elvia dodged an enraged Yue while beside them, Gwen cackled. Henley and Jun blinked, overcame by unbidden anxiety. The girls would pass Survival and Orienteering class, surely? Gwen made her second trip down the familiar hallway to the Cognisance Chamber. It was a rare boon to have another visit beyond one's annual review, for each exhibition of the chamber’s powers drained a significant volume of crystals. During one of their early morning chats at the school gate, Gwen had lamented the early termination of her last visit, and the wisened Principal must have taken note. She signed in at the counter. The chamber was the same as before. Gwen took her place in the middle, then awaited the ignition of the illusory enchantment. The room dimmed, space and time folded, then she was once again within the arena of her mind. Her Evocation sigil glowed happily, pulsating amongst the indefinite space of the Astral Plane, an occasional arc of Lightning broadcasting a spiderweb fissure of Lichtenberg figures. Right, here goes, she muttered internally. Gwen summoned the lightning serpent that she had conjured prior. Rather than an electric elver, it was now akin to a ball python; she could see within its translucent body little motes of elemental lightning sparking back and forth. She reached out with her mind for the space beyond the Evocation nebular, expanding her consciousness, searching for those little black motes that gave off a sickening feeling of vertigo. The light of her Lightning added a dimension to the darkness that had not existed before, though Gwen was confident that this too, was merely an illusion of her mind's making. She soon rediscovered her quarry. Unlike her first endeavour, there no longer seemed to be a host of the little grub-like creatures lingering so close to the Evocation sigil, more than likely frighted off by the overflow of energy. There! She felt it! That sudden drop in the pit of her stomach like she had stepped into the air. She moved closer, figuratively speaking, finding a whole cluster of the creatures thick enough to form a black void. The cumulative effect of seeing the larval swarm made her immediately nauseous, as though she had motion sickness. Gwen drew back. It was too much; she could feel her Astral Body shuddering. Yet, she felt simultaneously drawn towards the vortex of inverted space, where the leech-like creatures seemed to suck in all light, their oily hides darker than black. What IS this thing? Gwen felt herself haplessly moving forward. Vaguely aware of the fate that awaited the curious cat. She reminded herself that none of this was real; that all of this was inside her head. Here was the Cognisance Chamber, after all, and all of its projections were merely manifestations of her Astral morphic field. She had never heard of anyone dying in the chamber; as for what her strange visions portend, there was only one way to find out. Gwen suppressed an instinctual desire to flee; instead, she pushed herself towards the mass of writhing larva, at which point the vertigo ringing in her head became a screeching static, freezing every nerve in her body. With a fatalistic air, Gwen thrust her arm down to the elbow into the swarm. She may as well have assailed a bucket of dry ice. Shit, did I fuck up? A sudden paranoia engendered within the recess of her mind. The agony was at such a pitch that she felt on the verge of cracking a molar. Oh, God! She gulped for air, is this what giving birth feels like? Two walnut-sized kidney stones jostling for space? Below, reflected in the Cognisance illusion, tenebrous, inky liquid from the worms was now seeping into her Astral Body. Within her mind, the torturous pain had grown abstract and exquisite, combining with her anima, seemingly without end. With a shuddering force of will, Gwen tightened her grip, crushing something with the texture of gelatine. ENOUGH! Gwen pleaded to the void that she had done enough. She was at her limit. "Go!" Gwen released her lightning serpent, a bright sliver of starlight piercing the void. The darkness retreated like a tide, instantly fading into the neutral nothingness of the Astral Plane. Opening her hand, she saw within her palm motes of darkness, embedded within her flesh, appearing and disappearing at the edge of her vision. What a horrid, gut-churning, brain boiling trial! But she had powered through. That was the crucial thing. Come bushfire or flood water; she would never doubt her will to get shit done. The projection waned, indicating the end of her session. Just in time too. Gwen exhaled. That was a close one. With great anticipation, she made her way out to collect her Student Card. What would have changed? What would it say now? She couldn’t wait. A new element perhaps, maybe another School of Magic? That would be incredible because only the most talented individuals from the most incestuous Clans produced Mages with two elements. “Here you are." The instructor returned her card. Gwen inspected her I.D. Gwen Song S.I.D:: 0043598 Evoker Tier:: 2 Elemental Affinity :: Quasi Elemental - Lightning (3) “Congratulations on the level up.” What an exemplary student, her expression appeared to say, only three months in and Gwen was already tier 2. Gwen regarded her card once again, noting the absence of any other significant difference. She baulked. Had she made a mistake? Were the dark worms sweet nothings? All that pain and suffering for a misunderstanding? Th-that’s bullshit! Gwen felt cheated by the Cog-Chamber. So much for her fair shake of the sauce bottle! Not even a consolation prize? “You alright, Miss Song?” The Instructor inquired. Now that’s she’s taken a better gander at the infamous student, she noted Gwen looked somewhat gaunt. Her cheeks were sallow and sunken, the bags under her eyes were puffy and pronounced, she looked as though she hadn't slept for days. “You are overtaxing yourself,” she said worryingly. “It will do you no good if you collapse.” Gwen likewise took notice of her diminished state of health. “I don't feel so g-” She tried to speak, but her throat choked with ash and dust. Oh no no no, not again, Gwen felt a sinking feeling, the very same she had exhibited in Hyde Park. Her world began to spin, inundated by that strange vertigo. She fell into the alarmed embrace of the Instructor as she slumped forward, her body falling as though someone had cut the strings holding her up. “How are you here again?!” Elvia’s voice rang out sharply, full of upset and disappointment. She had been chewing Gwen out for the last ten minutes. “What kind of training are you doing behind our backs?” “I am sorry Evee...” “If I may interrupt...” a masculine voice with a strong European accent spoke beside them. It was the physician who had been teaching Elvia, Dr Lindholm, her uncle. “Gwen, I want you to be very honest with me....” “I shall...” Gwen replied, a little worried about what would happen if someone found out about her ‘true’ condition. “Are you... putting yourself on a diet?” “No...” Gwen replied quizzically. “Alright,” he turned to Elvia for confirmation, who affirmed Gwen wasn't hiding anything untoward. “Gwen eats enough for both of us...” Elvia divested sourly. “...” Gwen blushed. “Right…. So,” The doctor continued. “Are you sexually active?” “Uncle!!” “I am sorry, what?” Gwen almost spat on Elvia's uncle. The complexion of her face flamed amazement. “Ahem... I am serious.” Elvia's uncle appeared unmoved, making the two girls ashamed for their faux pas. “I mean, have you being out with anyone other than people from the dorm, people who are questionable, perhaps engaging in substance abuse, that sort of thing…” “No, never. I train all the time...” “Elvia?” The good doctor doesn’t seem to hold the general honesty of teenage girls in high esteem. “It’s true, Uncle. Gwen trains like it's her religion.” “No stranger-danger?” “...” “Fine…fine… can you elaborate on your training?” Gwen told him what she could. “I see...” he replied, “I fear you are not suffering from mana drain, but in fact from a vitality drain. Perhaps ease off on the exhaustive training? I know its said to develop your mana reserves, but it remains a questionable truism from early Spellcraft theory.” Gwen searched her memory of the last few months lectures. “Vitality drain... as in life-drain?” “Yes,” Elvia’s uncle worriedly answered, “I’d say the symptoms point to a negative energy drain, but you’re tapped into the positive energy plane, so that’s hardly a possibility.” “That’s...” Gwen paused. She recalled the strange dark mass and the black worms. “Impossible, I’ll be more careful with my mana management next time.” She was infamous for her horrid mana management, after all. “I need to take some blood samples if you don’t mind,” The doctor stated. “In case there are pathogenic quasi-magical reasons.” Gwen nodded demurely. “Is Gwen going to be alright?” Elvia asked. “Won’t she be too weak to give blood?” “It’s alright, Evee.” Her uncle replied kindly. Gwen looked away as the syringe penetrated her dermis. The bloodletting was relatively painless, though she had always been terrified of needles and could not bear to watch. Several vials of blood soon lined the shelves, while Gwen appeared even paler than before. “That’s all I needed,” Elvia's uncle sealed the vials with labels. “Now for your treatment. Sit upright please, arms relaxed, chin up.” The doctor hovered a hand over her heart. “Lesser Restoration!” “Heal moderate wounds!” A thrum of Positive Energy flooded her Astral Form. Gwen’s physical body absorbed the healing mana greedily. Instantly she felt haler; in fact, Gwen felt better than ever. “She's fit and ready to go," the doctor declared. “Thanks, Uncle.” “Thank you, Sir,” Gwen likewise acknowledged, still feeling a little woozy from the sudden influx of vitality. “Get some sleep,” he advised. “You'll need to have a long rest after you get home. I’ll write you a script, take tomorrow off.” “Thanks again, Sir.” Elvia's uncle left. “Is nothing the matter Gwennie? Really?” Elvia pursued the source of Gwen's illness relentlessly. “Absolutely. I am fine, Evee.” “Alright,” Elvia stated softly. She hugged Gwen bodily, burying her small face in her chest like a kitten. “You’re so bony.” “Yeah... I am starving... I can eat a whole Auroch right now...” “What happened?” Yue asked, watching Gwen moving onto her third quarter of quail. Elvia told her of what her uncle had said. “Training a little too hard, hey?” Yue looked over at Gwen sceptically, who was trying to swallow and drink at once. “If you’re low on mana, I got some spare crystals.” “Mmmmm mmph..” came the reply. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” both Elvia and Yue corrected her at once. Gwen swallowed, her stomach bloating like a balloon. She gave it a playful pat. Gwen was stuffing herself sick because of what she'd seen in the bathroom mirror. For whatever reason, she had moved unknowingly slipped from comfortably slim toward anorexia. Far beyond an athletic litheness, her hipbones protruded, and her ribs were painfully visible. Horrid sight! Impermissible! Even in her last life, working sixty hours a week, she managed to hit the gym enough times between work and weekends to maintain an enviable appearance. Beauty was vanity, but it was also social capital! That was why Gwen had ordered a double portion of protein and carbs, hoping to work herself back into a healthy weight. After dinner, she would go for a jog around the neighbourhood! Her two friends watched as their slim companion slammed down another mouthful. Elvia touched her chest. Was this the secret?

Woodland survival took place within an especially constructed Illusion inside the Blackwattle's athletics field, supplemented by Conjured flora. The process was apparently both costly and complicated, and an average school like Blackwattle could only afford enough resources to keep the Enchantment lit for a month at best. As such, within a limited time frame, all eligible students had to complete Woodland Survival 101 or forfeit their chance at distinguishing themselves on the Field Trip. The course was operated by several Rangers who were sent down from Randwick Barracks, specialising in overland combat, especially recon and scouting missions. Gwen's eyes lit up when their instructor, a six-foot-four clean shaven Staff Sergeant, presented himself to the students. “Call me Sergeant Boone.” The military grinned affably. Gwen's face heated up. Having spent so much time in the company of teenagers, the presence of an actual 'man' made her realise just how much she had missed interacting with adults. Sgt. Boone had the exterior of a poster soldier from propaganda Vid-casts, owning a stubble capable of grating cheese. His figure was long and muscular. In his tight khaki crew-neck, he resembled an Aussie G.I Joe. “Gwen, stop drooling…” Yue nudged Gwen in the ribs. She noted that her companion was into strong and stoic guys, which made perfect sense. Gwen perpetual lamented the fact that her father was a useless, unambitious layabout who relied on his women to make his bed. The exercises the students had to perform were numerous, but for Gwen who had the patience and experience of an adult, field dressing and other basic survival routines provided a scant challenge. Though physically exhausting, it was no drama watching Boone go about his explanations, sweat perspiring on his thick arms. Indeed, it was no trouble at all - until the class moved onto utilitarian magic. The students each had to take a hand in makeshift-shelter construction and fire making. They also practised hunting relatively harmless Wildland creatures for provisions, or at least animated Constructs imitating the real-life animals. The illusory field furthermore disorientated the students, assessing their orienteering and tracking abilities. Day after day, the schedules and activities continued. The field even had simulated rain, as well as one time, a bushfire, though Gwen suspected Yue had something to do with it. By the fourth day, Gwen's confidence was shot. Since Mages could manifest a variety of practical phenomena, different Schools of Magic made specific tasks negligible and trivial. Yue, for example, could create fire, but couldn't control flames. It meant that if she lost control of a spell, the entire camp could end up in smokes. Here was where Water Mages, the most common of all Elemental Mages, saved the day. They may not be able to fight very efficiently, but they could conjure clean water for drinking and washing, put out fires, and even effortlessly create mana Shields to block the rain. Likewise, recruit a good Earth Abjurer or Transmuter, and one had instant shelters. Abjurers created igloo-like dome structures where teammates could sleep, whereas Transmuters could transmute stone and build a two bedroom bungalow. Anecdotally, Boone told them that one-time, his squad had been stuck out in the Wild Lands near the Orange Zone of central Australia. Lacking shelter from the sun, their Transmuter went and dug a small complex underground so secure and well sheltered that the Army opted to convert it into a Forward Operating Base. Therefore, watching the others busy at work, Gwen and Yue realised a fundamental flaw of Evocation. Evokers were very, VERY good at killing stuff and blowing shit up. But were otherwise one-trick ponies. Oh. My. God. Her face burned. To think she would be ashamed to be an Evoker. Gwen, Yue and half a dozen others stood and watched those whom they had looked down upon previously going about a dozen tasks at once. I am sorry, non-Evocation Mages! Gwen apologised profusely. I was too arrogant and ignorant of your talents! Where Evokers had been the star of every practice session, with every eyes and ear enticed by their loud explosions and cool pyrotechnics; now they just loafed around. Together with Gwen and Yue, they watched their precarious wood shacks wavering in the wind while someone like Debora transmuted themselves an elevated stone fortress. Wincing at the tenderness of her blistering fingers, all motivation drained from Gwen. Even with Boone watching her, she couldn't muster the motivation to do more than the bare minimum. What was worse, Debora, having discovered the girls' ineptitude, had set herself up to flirt with Boone, asking for pointers on how she could strength her Normandy battle fortress. She was the perfect candidate, after all, possessing both Transmutation and Earth talents, the same as Boone. Watching her sculptures twist and turn into arches and extend to become walls was agonising for Yue, who could do nothing but hack away at the branches with a tomahawk, feeling like a useless NoM. “The nerve!” Yue growled. “She’s all over Sgt. Boone like a cheap piece of meat.” “It's fine…” Gwen shrugged. She could see that Boone was uncomfortable and understood the man perfectly well. These were high school girls, and he was a thirty-something adult. Though Debora had the body of a woman, her childish idea of flirtatious sexuality had Boone sweating buckets. By the time Debora finished, she had created an elevated fortification, a two-metre tall monstrosity with a roof and an observation platform. Boone was heaping praises upon her, and their rival was aglow with otherworldly confidence. Yue and Gwen observed their shabby stick humpy, breathing out sadly through their noses. You win this time Debbie! They sobbed dejectedly. Thinking about Debora's display, the girls noted Transmutation's versatility. Debora could launch a short-range Catapult; she could Barkskin, she could Stone Shape in the future. She could even self-buff and melee her targets with Enhance Ability. Transmutation was an all-rounder talent! Debora was one hell of a useful existence to have on a team, more so than themselves, who were glass cannons. “I think we looked down on her too much,” Yue confessed miserably. She liked to be honest with her feelings. “Yeah…” Gwen found herself twiddling her hair, “I feel useless.” “Erg…” Elvia joined them on the fifth day, having had separate training for battle triage and field hospital protocols. She was likewise useless at base-building. And so it was that the three girls spent the next week learning a little thing or two about the versatility of the other Schools of Magic. In the end, the trio managed a 'Pass'. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Combat training and teamwork followed. On paper, Jun's setup was perfect. Their scout, Henley, did not need to separate from the team and as such, could enjoy the full benefit of Gwen and Yue’s firepower as well as Elvia’s healing should things come to a head. Thanks to an augur in their midst, the party could move while maintaining formation, alternating casts between Gwen and Yue to conserve mana, and have Elvia and Henley buff the party. Jun himself served double duty as both battlefield control and tank, using his spells to snare and slow opponents. If they ran into Soldier-tier beasts, Gwen and Yue could attack, and Jun would slow. In the worst-case scenario, Henley and Elvia had their own Shields. Furthermore, as a Cleric, Elvia's mana-intensive Shield of Faith was as strong as Jun's Abjuration Shields, though she could only protect herself. On paper, their formation seemed perfect. “Oh my God! I just died, Yue! I just died!” The training field had transformed into a sparse fire trail thanks to a combination of Illusion and Conjuration, setting the girls to track a moving ‘dummy’ of sorts. When Yue spied the dummy hidden behind a thick-waisted oak, she let loose a barrage almost on instinct. The effect was spectacularly disastrous. Her first bolt struck the tree. The second caught on a branch. The third thumped the ground adjacent, sending up a cloud of dust and soil. The dummy skipped away, but the tree Yue had struck splintered and fell, almost knocking out Jun, who had to hastily erect a reinforced ice barrier. “You’re fine!” Yue pointed out. “I know, but if I was slow, or if I SUCKED, I would be a pile of meat under a tree right now. Imagine if Gwen or Henley was in my place.” Jun pointed out coldly, which riled up Yue even more. The group's training was not unfolding smoothly. Yue had a knack for firing bolts at whatever came into her field of vision. Even with the divination provided by Henley, she was hitting trees left and right, sending blasts of splintered wood, dust, and assorted debris towards her team. She should be using shaped blasts, Gwen thought of the physics of her old world and wondered if such a thing could be applied to Spellcraft. Though she had no idea how shaped charges worked. It wasn't like they taught demolition in MBA courses at the University of Sydney. “So what do you want me to do then?” Yue demanded with exasperation. The woodlands proved a terrible terrain for her Magic, incidentally the very terrain for their incoming Field Trip in the Royal National. The two senior students halted the party. The five huddled to discuss better strategy. “Yue, I am not blaming you or anything, but you need to be aware of overhead obstacles.” There were reasons why baseline spells were timeless after all. Had Yue stuck to the self-seeking flaming missiles, there would be no problem. Rescinding, however, would halve her damage output, not to mention Yue was adamant she could somehow make it work. “Alright, let us take ten, and we’ll get back to you.” Yue fell back and moved to the middle of the party, and Gwen moved up just behind Jun. “Now Gwen.” Jun indicated for her to follow. “With me, on my mark.” “Righto.” Gwen followed, feeling adrenaline kicking through her body. Jun indicated to the Controller to release another dummy. In the distance, the shape of a semi-humanoid creature materialised. It landed mechanically on the forest floor, imitating a kind of half-wallaby, half-goblin hybrid. “Blast Bolt!” A blue bolt of electricity ionised from midair and struck the creature before it even moved from the summon circle, obliterating the golem-dummy into bits of splintering wood and animal skin. “On my mark…” Jun groaned. “On MY MARK, Gwen…” Elvia appeared downright embarrassed for her two trigger-happy friends. “Sorry…” Gwen made a face. “I was a bit nervous…” “Another! Sorry about that!” Jun called out to the Controller. “YOU GOT THIRTY MORE MINUTES.” A husky female voice called out from the control tower. “Alrighty then.” Jun turned to Gwen. “On my mark…” Another dummy materialised, making its gangly way into the woodland illusion. This time they waited until the thing hid somewhere in the woods. “Alright, here goes.” Henley’s halo came into being; he scanned the area before him, locating almost immediately the magical signature of the skittish Construct. “Three O clock, twenty metres, one enemy, small,” the Diviner reported expertly. The party moved forward as quietly as they could manage, with Henley reporting their quarry's movements every time it shifted positions. Gwen’s Bolts were effective up to forty meters, but her spatial accuracy suffered as distance increased. “Engaging,” Jun announced. “Bless.” “True Strike.” The group held its breath. The dummy stopped behind another tree, but quickly decided against hiding and leapt from the bush quick as a mechanical wallaby could wallop. “Guiding Bolt!” Gwen watched with surprise as her bolt, which had been half a metre off, arc towards the target as if guided by providence. It was the chance-altering effecting of True Strike, which tapped into the threads of possibilities and gave her a sensation of preternatural foresight. From the view of others, it looked as though the thing had run into a bolt of lightning. 'Crack!' The additional energy from the Blessing spell kicked in. Not far, the positively charged bolt ripped apart the Construct, sending bits of wood all over. “Finish it!” Jun commanded. “Lightning Blast!” Guided by the positive energy planted by her Guiding Bolt, a half dozen bolts arced through the air. Three strikes, three near misses and a mess of electrical explosions later, nought but a smouldering mass was left. “Ray of Frost.” A crinkle of frost smothered the sparks and cooled the area. Jun’s cantrip stamped out any potential fires before they could spread. That was something they had to wary of; the Green Zone had little economic activity such as logging, meaning the forest was thick with tinder. “Good job!” Jun breathed out. “Nice one Gwen,” Henley appended. Gwen bumped fists with Yue and Elvia. That was a good run by any metric. It demonstrated the absurd advantage Lightning Mages had over those with projectile blasts. So long as Gwen could visualise the manifestation point, she could manifest from the back, the front, the side, above, any which way. It was still safest to shot from above the target though, as electricity tended to arc towards the nadir, and Gwen did not want to risk wasting a spell by grounding it accidentally. The group switched between Yue and Gwen three more times before their allotted training hour was over. Yue succeeded on her next try, but her final attempt once again overcommitted, started a small forest fire. “Alright, let's pack it up for today.” Jun made the call, and the five retreated from the practice field. The illusion faded, and they were once again out on the concrete walkway. “Impressive firepower,” a sultry voice rang out behind them. “Ma’am.” Jun greeted the figure still in the shadow of the fading illusion. “AOE problems?” the owner of the voice enquired as an envious silhouette materialised. The Instructor was a woman who looked to be in her late twenties, slim and professionally attired. She wore a scarlet pencil skirt and a tapered white blouse adorned with a carmine ribbon-neck tie, matched by heels in ruby-red. There was an air of confidence about the woman that made the students instantly attentive, undiminished by her uncommonly gorgeous face. She wore her hair as a piled bun, leaving loose ringlets of red hair to frame her delicate profile. The Instructor's ultramarine eyes twinkled. More so than the others, Gwen felt doubly impressed. The Instructor reminded her of herself. “Ma’am.” The students made their respect known. “Alesia De Botton, guest Instructor.” Their Instructor extended a hand and crisply shook the student's sweaty palms. “I’ll be looking after your group for the Field Trip.” “We’re in your care Ma’am,” Jun answered before anyone else, already smitten, much to Yue's dismay. “Not so soon, Tiger.” Alesia's scarlet smile was full of confidence. “First-impressions are important.” She waved to the control station, and the field changed from that of the forest to that of a dozen dummies roving back and forth. “Fire Ball!” A mote of flame shot out from her fingertips toward the roving dummies. To their surprise, it perfectly flew between the first two, through a gap in the third, and struck the fourth dummy dead centre. An eruption of fire then blossomed like a red-scarlet lotus, rolling across the field. But there was something odd and unusual about the explosion, for it lacked the heat that was so ubiquitous to Yue’s spells. When the dust settled, they were shocked to see only ONE dummy destroyed, and all the others merely seared and scorched. “HOW!” Yue's jaw hung half open. How indeed! Gwen felt her mind reeling. What she was seeing defied reality! “That’s a shaped-spell.” Alesia shook her finger cooly like someone tapping the ash from a cigarette. “You need a little bit of Evocation and a bit of Transmutation, a little meta magic training and a little help from an elemental spirit, then it should be manageable with a little practice." The gathered teens gazed upon their new Instructor, genuine worship welling from their little impressionable hearts. Despite her vague advice, even Gwen was infected by her startling displays of competence. Evocation... and Transmutation? Her mind reeled. A MAGUS! A REAL LIFE MAGUS! Someone who was fully competent in TWO Schools! And the woman doesn't look a day over thirty!

A brave new world was opening in front of Yue's eyes. This was Spellcraft?! REAL Spellcraft? She couldn't help but wonder what two-bit charlatan magic she'd been learning this whole time. Alesia’s Fireball was too abnormal, her control too refined. Watching her shaping blasts and comparing it to the Yue's proud Firebolts was like watching a pyromaniac dousing a house against a demolition crew strategically performing a controlled burn. “That… that was amazing, Ma’am,” Yue muttered bewilderingly, reeling with wonder. Gwen felt taken back as well. To control an explosion so precisely that it could identify friend or foe? That’s an insane ability! How is it even possible? Alesia's mastery defied Gwen's understanding of physics. She felt as though they were bumpkins marvelling at pickups all their life seeing a drive-by Tesla. Or worse still, a flat earth loyalist suddenly seeing the curvature of the earth. More than that though, they were speaking to an actual Magus, someone who had attained their second School of Magic. For the mundane Mage, there was only one way of attaining a Secondary school. One had to relentlessly practice in order to produce a mnemonic-Sigil. That or one could possess a natural affinity for more than one School. Principally, 'young' Maguses were either blessed by generations of fine breeding, or by the genetic lottery. Elvia offered a good example, by her account, her mother's side of the family produced healers. As such, her predisposition for the unique blend of Evocation, Conjuration and Positive Energy made her a perfect candidate for a Cleric. As Alesia was far too youthful to be someone with a mnemonically-forged glyph; she must, therefore, be one blessed by fate. Across from Gwen and her stunned companions, Alesia regarded her cohort of moon-eyed teens with smugness. Her Master was right in telling her that the younglings responded best to demonstrations of absolute power. “I’ll be taking you on for the next month or so; all your training time will be with me,” she said, lowering her octave a little to emphasise her solemnity. “I hope we can get along for the duration, and that you will benefit from my guidance.” “Yes, Ma’am!” The five made a show of sloppy salutes. None of them had experienced Military Service yet. “Ma’am.” Yue was already breathless with anticipation. “Could you- could you explain what you did?” Alesia gave them all a dazzling smile, her teeth white and gleaming. “It’s okay if you’re busy-” Yue hastily added. “It’s fine.” Alesia turned her palm over. The familiar sight of a dancing flame appeared. Yue had also performed this rite to practice her flame control. “Put your hand over my flame," Alesia commanded. “…” The gathering waited for Yue to oblige. “Ma’am?” The rest of the party saw the dancing sprite of flame as a magical phenomenon, but Gwen saw oxidising ions burning at well over 600 degrees Celsius. To Gwen's teeth-gritting terror, Yue obliged. The spunky Asian girl lifted her hand and placed it within the scarlet-orange flame. “It…” her eyes widened. “It feels like cotton candy! How is that possible? Is this an illusion?” Emboldened by Yue, the others had a go as well, feeling the flame wrap around their hands harmlessly. The sensation was akin to putting one’s half over wool or cotton. “Make me some ice,” Alesia ordered. Jun created an icicle on his palm. “Try again.” Jun placed his iced palm into the flame and instantly yelped. “Arrgg!” He jumped back, noting that his hand was unharmed, but his icicle had melted and that the evaporating water had reddened a finger. “That's a scorching-hot flame!” Indeed, Gwen acknowledged. To overcome its oppositional element and utterly eradicate the phenomena would imply that Alesia's flame was several magnitudes that of Jun’s Elemental Ice. As observed, the laws of physics in her old world possessed only a precarious hold on her new one. Alesia withdrew her hand, but the flame continued to float in mid-air. The phenomenon was more shocking than Alesia's absurd control. They watched the fire gently flicker until it took on the silhouette of a Caracal - an orange, flaming tabby yawning at them disinterestedly. “A flame Spirit!” Yue was on the verge of asphyxiation. "Ma'am, just who are you?" Gwen and the others were no less shocked than their companion. An Elemental Spirit was incredibly rare. As Jun would readily inform them, one in a thousand kills may yield a complete Creature Core. One in a thousand Cores may yield an intact spirit capable of being utilised by a Mage, an act akin to digging for hen's teeth. Then there was the fact that Magical Beasts also came in different shapes, sizes and degrees of strength; from the weak spell fodder Swarmlings to Titans, to Mythics. One could, therefore, imagine the rarity of an Elemental Spirit, especially a powerful one. Something clicked within Yue’s head. “Y-you’re…” The girl was stuttering now. “You’re A-Alesia of the Scarlet Flame! The Coral Sea Witch! The Scarlet Sorceress!” Alesia’s face took on a vibrant red glow. 'Scarlet Flame' was the name the Tower had used to propagandise victories over the Mermen during the Coral Sea conflict. It was like having one's old laundry aired in public. “Um…” Gwen and Elvia’s face was blank, but Jun and Henley became equally breathless. “She’s a tier FIVE Evoker with tier SIX Fire element, Gwennie!” Yue spat in Gwen’s face, her passionate spittle kissing Gwen's cheeks. “Ma’am… I never knew you were also a Transmuter!” “I am working on it,” Alesia replied, a little less comfortable now that Yue was jumping up and down. She was far more used to the careful respect of military folk than a gushing teenage girl. "My official stats are a decade old." At least one mystery was solved then - the reason why Alesia could IFF her flames was because she possessed a sapient flame-Sprite. Whenever her flames were affected by the Spirit's innate affinity boost, Alesia's Fire spells took on a bright scarlet hue. “I need to go report to Principal Bartlett, but I’ll leave you with something to ponder.” Alesia gesticulated her dominant hand toward the field once again. “Flaming Hand!” A torrent of scarlet flames poured over the field in a sixty-degree arc like a flamethrower. “Flaming Hand!” A three-pronged talon of flame left from her hand and struck several targets, but missing others. “Flaming Hand!” A single torrent of flames, thicker and more potent than the last, not only shot forward but arched across the field like fire from a liquid-fuel flamethrower. The five watched the spectacle wordlessly. “It is possible to manipulate the final manifestation through visualisation and mental cues. Even if you are not a Magus, you can still work with other Sigils, all it takes is practice.” Alesia informed them, turning to Gwen. “No need to obsess over Signature spells, instead, focus on the basics. Once you're capable of holding your own, find a Master and learn to craft their Signature Spells before making your own. There's an order to learning Spellcraft which one should not overlap.” Watching the sorceress, both Gwen and Yue acknowledged that there was something to Alesia’s words. The girls should focus on foundations rather than dream of flying. “See you tomorrow, upper practice field.” Alesia stretched out her shoulders, her red stilettos clicking musically on the pavement as she stalked away. “That was amazing,” Yue reiterated after finally managing to close her mouth. “She is amazing.” “So, who is she?” “You need to read more, Gwen,” Jun said, “At least listen to the news or something.” Gwen put her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. Jun cleared his throat; he was a man who loved expositions. “Alesia De Botton, the youngest Ordained Senior Mage to participate in the Great Cleansing of the Barrier Reef a decade ago. Possessing the rank of Major, she is a Wing-Commander of a Strike Wing under her Majesty’s Aerial Assault Mages. She made her mark by soloing a General class Lizardman, preserving an entire platoon on the Brisbane Line. She spent the last year of her military service touring the country, setting up safe zones for new migrants." Stolen novel; please report. "She was popular in Vid-Casts back when I was in primary school. You can see why. Alesia is both beautiful and badass," Yue added. “Then what happened? What's someone like her doing here?” “Don’t know.” Jun shrugged, “She left the military after her mandatory service, but no one knows after that.” “She's sooo hot.” Henley closed his eyes in remembrance of those childhood propaganda shows, his nose sniffing the air for her perfume. “Maybe she’s doing Military recruitment? I know I would join if she asked. ” The others shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out what she’s got in store for us tomorrow,” Yue proposed. Gwen gazed over to where their Instructor's envious figure stood next to the Principal. Could the old man have something to do with this? The training that Alesia had in store could be divided into three core components. Physical training to ‘fortify their bodies’. Mental image training where they practised modifying their manifests in subtle ways. Finess training for Yue and Gwen, who had to learn to ‘adjust’ the output of their spell’s power. During their training, Yue attempted to pry a little into the life story of her idol, receiving nought but mum on the matter of Alesia's private life. As a part of her teaching, Alesia aided each of them in modifying their existing spells by altering the way they conceived Major and Minor invocations, the verbal and somatic part of spell casting, opening their eyes to new pathways of Meta Magic. Ther lower the tier of the spell, the more malleable it was to the Mage's creative intent, as for higher tiers of magic, the danger of mana burn increased exponentially with each haphazard modification. The girls and boys were rapt with expectation. The next month and a half seemed to blitz by now that each day the boys and girls returned to their dorms exhausted and drained. Daily life consisted of nothing but classes, training, eating and sleeping. When finally, with less than a week to go until the Field Trip, the group was called up to be assessed by the academic board. Though the Field Trip was merely a training camp in the Green Zone, Blackwattle took meticulous care to ensure that students possessed the competency to come home in one piece. The test took place within a replicated section from the Royal National's infamous Coastal Track. Simulating a trek that led deep into the Wildlands, where unguarded travellers were almost guaranteed to be harassed by quasi-magical beasts greedy for mana crystals or curious for the bric-a-brac of human civilisation. The team's new formation had Gwen taking the rear guard, with Yue at the spear point. Alesia had the girls systematically measure the range of their spells, finding that Gwen could cover Yue’s range even from the rear. Likewise, until Gwen gained access to Line-based AOEs such as the tier 3 Lighting Bolt, she had no friendly-fire issues with her spatial casting. “Detect Magic.” Henley opened with his signature spell. In the real Wild Lands, he would have to alternate between different forms of Detection to scry for various threats. “Sanctuary.” Jun made the circular gesture familiar to all Abjurers. A ring of ice appeared over Elvia, floating like a halo. It was a trigger-buff that made Elvia less conspicuous to enemies' hostility. If attacked, the spell would trigger a Frost Barrier. The Examiners nodded discerningly. They saw good use of fundamentals. “Bless.” Elvia buffed the party, though as her uses were in field triage, it was unlikely the healer would distinguish herself in practice. The group silently moved into the illusory woods. “Twelve O Clock, two targets, small and medium. Yue takes the first strike,” Henley reported through his mind’s eye. “Incoming!” Henley had been trained by Alesia to recognise distortions in the mana-field. There were minute but traceable patterns to creatures that differentiated them from the ambient magic of the Wildlands. 'Thunk! Thunk!' The Ice Shields were up before the barbed missiles from the golem-creatures even reached the party. Both pinged off the icy domes Jun conjured with articulate gestures, fading immediately as their purpose waned, further conserving mana. Now bereft of the element of surprise, the dummies leapt from hiding and made for the edge of the field, using trees as partial cover. “Firebolt!” A bolt of fire shot from Yue’s fingertips, forming a parabola not upwards but sideways, curving around the trunk of a tree to strike the larger target square in the back. Her missile erupted, delivering its cargo of unstable energy, sending the thing against an adjacent trunk, dashing it to pieces. The lesser of the two creatures used this opportunity to reposition. “Blast Bolt!” Gwen incanted with somatic flair, trying to orientate an abstract point of origin in space. Her gestures reminded her audience of a madwoman conducting an orchestra with invisible cats. Thirty meters away, a blast of electricity tore the dummy apart. “Hostiles cleared. We're proceeding to next area.” The party continued without delay, obliterating each scenario. After thirty-odd minutes, the party remained twenty for twenty, coming nigh to the closing part of the examination. “Releasing large Golem,” a voice announced above them. Gwen's party felt the bone throbbing thrum of a large scale Conjuration circle activate, and knew that this was their final test. “GWARRRR!” The imitated voice of an Orc Warrior resounded through the field, amplified by whatever magic or mechanism installed within. As if for full cinematic effect, the group observed several trees blasting apart as the enormous creature balled through the bush, saliva flying every which way. Though the party knew that this was an illusion and that beneath it all was yet another dummy made to soak damage, it remained a terrifying encounter. “Steady!” Jun shouted. “True Strike!” Henley incanted, managing to fit one debuff before the creature was almost within melee range. “Bane!” “Shield Stack!” Jun managed to place three layers of icy shields in an instant. Using reactive, displacing Shields was Alesia's solution to counter the brittleness of Ice Shields. “Shield of Faith!” Elvia’s clear, near transparent shield covered Jun, giving him full visibility and an additional layer of protection. “Here goes…” Yue breathed in, incanting rapidly as her Evocation manifested. “Barrage!” A chain of five Firebolts lit up a pathway of explosions, sending the creature tumbling, dramatically diminishing its momentum. The weight of it, however, maintained its trajectory. With a crash, a bulbous arm covered with rocky barnacles struck the first ice shield, obliterating it. “Guided Bolt!” Gwen intoned. A shard of positively-charged Lightning struck the creature, sending a crackle of purple electricity down the massive dummy's illusory face. The golem raised its fists in an insane pose of anger. “Lighting Blast!” Gwen's infamous chain-spell began in earnest. She poured every ounce of her remaining mana into the channel, knowing that this was the last enemy. The exercises Alesia had them perform were well worth their weight. Who would have thought that endurance training could manage mana exhaustion? The textbooks had been sceptical of the fact, but Alesia had proven her hypothesis with tangible results. The Examiners smiled to themselves satisfactorily. There she goes, they thought to themselves, having seen Gwen perform the very same spell at practice. What a light show! There were few elements as spectacular as Lightning. Gwen managed to keep her electric-disco active for ten seconds, but it was enough; the dummy had been reduced to a smouldering jumble of clinking metal. “S!” “S!” “S!” Absolute destructive power. Perfect scouting and defence. Sound teamwork and impeccable awareness of one another’s abilities. "Bravo!" Principal Bartlett's voice called out from the judges' platform. The Examiners could hardly wait to see what else could be accomplished by Blackwattle's A-Team. The illusion faded and a sound of applause inundated the athletic field. Gwen searched the crowd and found Alesia loudly clapping with the rest of the Instructors. Their eyes met, and she flashed them a brilliant, dazzling smile. That woman IS amazing. Gwen couldn't help but be impressed all over again. Just a month ago, Yue almost blew Jun seven ways to hell. What they could do now was astounding, even by semi-professional standards. The Examination had no metric for endurance, but Gwen knew that Alesia had ensured that with alternating casting and conservative mana usage, the group's expertise was encroaching on the proficiency of first-year military students. “Congratulations, Students. You have done very well.” One of the Senior Mages stated proudly. "Well done, Gwen! Yue, all of you!" Principal Bartlett flushed a shade of scarlet. The party bowed in front of the elevated platform of the Examiners before leaving the field to speak to their Instructor, whose striking profile was even now drawing attention from the onlookers. “Thank you so much, Ma’am.” Yue tilted her head respectfully. “The credit is yours,” Alesia replied modestly. “No Ma’am,” Gwen said earnestly. “We could not have done it without you.” “Aww~, you’re all embarrassing me.” Alesia’s smile was blindingly attractive, more thanks to the children's intense feelings of gratefulness. “You should have more confidence in your abilities.” She gave them each a hug, the girls more tightly and intimately, the boys more stiffly for their nervousness. When she reached Elvia, Alesia could not resist but playfully ruffled the healer's hair. “I am going to miss this,” Alesia commented jovially, pampering Elvia was a treat in itself. “You’re not leaving already, Miss?” Elvia inquired dejectedly. “Not immediately. I'll be looking after you guys at the camp!” "Another fortnight..." Elvia's lips pursed sadly, "Will you be staying on?" "Unfortunately, no." Alesia gave them all an appreciative smile, "I am sure we'll meet in some other capacity in the future, perhaps at the Tower." "The Tower?" Yue's eyes were once again aglow with expectation, "Do you work there Miss?" Alesia's ocean blue eyes fluttered before she gave Yue a quick pat on the shoulder that neither confirmed nor denied her profession. The five stood awkwardly, feeling a lack of closure. “We will set a new record for you Miss," Jun said finally with a tone of commitment. "Of course." "Yeah!" The rest agreed readily. Alesia said nothing but told them to stay and watch the other teams. The Path was long and arduous; every experience could unexpectedly open up new detours. And so, taking their Instructor's advice, Gwen's party remained, receiving congratulations from others who came and went. One by one, they saw how the others faired with their unique team makeups and skill sets. Of particular note was Debora’s team, utilising an entirely unexpected composition. Extraordinarily, her team had an actual Enchanter in their midst, whose buffs of Bless, Fortify and Endurance provided the team with unmatched fortitude. Likewise, the inclusion of an illusionist scout with access to the Chameleon optic spell provided the team with an excellent spotter. The remaining three members where shockingly, all Transmuters. They utilised a system of mass-buffs to empower themselves an almost ridiculous manner. Debora’s signature version of Bark Skin had now become Bronze Skin, presumably an heirloom spell, providing a nigh-indestructible armour for the caster. Combined with Long Stride and Enhanced Ability, her team excelled in mobility and defence. In front of a cheering audience, the Transmuter-trio became a team of living battering rams. Debora especially was like a dreadnaught of destruction, punching, kicking, and throwing fifty odd kilograms of catapulted stones wherever they went. The efficiency of their team was such that they demolished all twenty obstacles in half the time Gwen had taken. It was only against the Ogre dummy that the two lesser Transmuters, whose elements were tier 1 Water and Earth, were stopped in their tracks. It was then up to Debora to combat the creature alone, but with the others supplying snares, illusions, and endless entanglements, she was eventually able to beat it into submission just before the forty-minute deadline. “A” “S” “A” The examiners gave Debora's team a sterling commendation but also warned her also that there were limitations to close combat. Until she could rise to a tier high enough to possess much-lauded Polymorphic spells, the Acolytes would put themselves in unnecessary danger. Only two more teams managed to down the Ogre dummy, with the further incident of a group suffering the ‘loss’ of a team member due to a poorly timed Shielding spell. By the day’s end, only nine teams and a total of forty-five student Mages were eligible for the Field Trip taking place in a six-days time. The students returned to their dorms to rest their weary bodies which had undergone near two months of continuous training, some taking time off to meet with family and friends before they embark for the first time into the Wildlands. It was only a Green Zone, but the fact remained the Royal National was a place away from the city’s Barrier Shields, devoid of the footfalls of human civilisation, a place of nought but flora and fauna.

They said that Mages ruled the world. They lied. They say that Man was the ruler of the Earth. They were wrong. They said that Man’s cities were safe behind their Barrier Shields. They would be gravely mistaken. Humanity had learnt magic from the forgotten places, but they have forgotten their place in the world. The Modern Man was a wayward falcon who could no longer hear the falconer. It would take another blood-dimmed tide to awash man’s cities before they finally awoke to the truth. The singular Cardinal truth. That the strong were the proven victors of tooth and nail, while the weak were food for the wyrms, to exist otherwise would be to disturb the Chain of Being. They called themselves Rogue Mages. Outcasts. Wildlanders. The Others. They considered themselves untainted few who were deserving of Man’s great gift from the Higher Beings, the ones who understood the calling. After all, who else could explain why some were gifted with Magic, while others were left to grovel in the dirt? Clans… Corporations… Nations and their City-States. All of them were gravely mistaken in a fundamental fact of man's existential creed. The Mage is the human being. The NoMs are merely simian man-beasts, close genetic cousins, mockeries of the Spellcrafter. Mages, not man, won the Great War. That Mages needed to service and protect their ape-like relates was the great lie that turned the world upside down. Only a world of Mages, ruled by Mages, for Mages, could survive the usurping ambitions of Magical Creatures and Demi-humans. Only through the Path of the Sorcerer Supreme can the Ubermensch be brought kicking and screaming into the world. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. “How close?” A voice asked in the dim light of the glowing glyphs. A dozen figures, indistinct in their cowls, were watching the cacophony of activity below. They were perched authoritatively over what appeared at first glance to be an open mine of sorts. “A week at most,” Another voice, a woman’s, answered. The cowls they wore were enchanted, masking their faces and distorting their voices. “You are certain the Serpent will come?” “Of Course.” The third speaker had an illusory display of faces that always changed. The Faceless Man, they called him, the infiltrator of the organisation. “What of the labour force here? There are some potential candidates.” They looked down below at the dullard workers below, some hale, some thin as sticks, tireless working themselves to death with faces full of devotion. “Blood Sacrifices,” The faceless man answered without a hint of emotion touching the tone of his voice. “One cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.” The gathered watched the activity below silently. “What of the Tower, what news of Shultz?” “They are tied up with the Drowner Incident over the North Shore,” Another voice spoke up. “We have ensured their full attention.” “How did you manage that?” “We gave the daughter of Senator Spencer to the Queen of the hive.” “…” “She was a tier four water Transmuter. What a waste…’ Another commented. “Surely such young talent could be used more effectively elsewhere." The original speaker shrugged. “She has two more sisters, just as talented, if not more so. I am aware of our greater goal.” “Each Mage you waste on these games could bring us closer! Especially a purebred!” The female figure raised a gloved hand; it was slim, dainty, and aristocratic. “Enough bickering." Her voice was eldritch ice and honeyed mead. The rest fell into silence. “We will not meet again until my say so.” She announced. “Faceless and Edgar will remain here and finish the ritual.” The gathering bowed or dipped their heads in acknowledgement. “Your wish is my command,” A smaller figure replied. “… and Mine Also,” replied the one called The Faceless Man. The robes of all but Faceless and Edgar began to warp and shrink, twisting sinuously. An endless stream of vermin of different shapes and sizes seemed to escape from underneath their robes until only black cloth remained. Once the enchantment seemed to wear off, the mass of rats, snakes, and gleaming poisonous insects began a grand melee of eating or be eaten. “…” Edgar was wordless. “Am I the only one dumb enough to attend these things in person?” “That Is Why You are still YOUNG,” Faceless said in that strange voice of his that was genderless and grating. “Let Us Proceed.” Edgar nodded at his companion, “Let us see what rough beast, its hour come round at last, is going to be born.”

When the girls had finally returned to the dorm, they were greeted at the door by Rawson. “I heard the good news." “Thanks, Mister Rawson.” “Thanks, Rory.” “Thank you, Sir.” Rawson snorted at Yue’s abbreviated intimacy. “That being said - Gwen, the Principal wants to see you. Can you head over now? It's urgent.” “Oh?” Gwen's chest tightened ominously. “Any idea what it's about?” “None.” “Alright, I better get going then.” "Want us to come with?" "Naw, she'll be right." Gwen waved her peers goodbye, then made for the campus just a block away. The afternoon sun diffused itself against the horizon, skimming across the ultramarine Sydney sky. Despite the chirping cicadas, Gwen felt goosebumps all over her skin. This meeting can't bode well. Gwen thought to herself. She had learnt to trust her feelings in her past life, and she had seldom been proven wrong. The door to the Principal’s office yawned open after Gwen knocked and was told to come in. An excessive dosage of Chanel No.5 drowned her olfactory senses. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT... No, no, no! Her body was already engaging its Pavlovian override. Every hair stood on Gwen’s head, her arms and legs gaining the density of lead. For a moment, Gwen pondered the possibility of fleeing, never to return. “Come on in, Miss Song,” the Principal's none too friendly voice announced. Gwen opened the door the rest of the way and met the heavily mascaraed eyes of her mother fluttering in that excessive manner Helena had mastered. “Hello, Mother.” She managed to squeeze a greeting out between gritted teeth, compelling a smile that struggled to reach her eyes. Her mother turned her body ostentatiously, twisting in the leather chair like a midday TV reveal. Immediately, Gwen could feel the heat rising on her face and her heart-rate rocket. Sweet Jesus, what was her mother wearing?! Helena had on a cream dress practically glued onto her outrageous body. Her cleavage was so exaggerated as to be almost exploding from their hapless containment, threatening to spill with every movement. She briefly recalled that her mother had called this ‘the tension of the moment,’ and then had laughed that her 'poor' daughter was ‘incapable’. Principle Bartlett already looked like he had been turned on the spit by her mother for a good hour or so, his face was a mask of false sympathy and barely contained irritation. Helena rose from her seat, her athletic legs stretching the fabric to their utmost limits. Her mother leaned in for that cheek to cheek kiss. Gwen's spine mechanically bent to meet her almost by reflex, serving as an apt metaphor for her current condition. This body remained beholden to the old Gwen's mother, Gwen thought to herself: a volatile cocktail of dopamine and adrenaline, fueling what was probably Stockholm Syndrome. The peck on the cheeks made Principle Bartlett instantly uncomfortable; his wane smile faded altogether. Her mother regarded Gwen. “Sloppy and ugly,” Helena announced suddenly, and Gwen felt her mind go blank. It was like she was watching the whole thing unfold from behind a glass cage, where her conscious mind was trying to beat down the panes to regain control of her rebellious body. Her mother’s hands moved over Gwen’s uniform, straightening her blouse, tucking the edges into her skirt, furthermore hiking it an inch higher and revealing a bit more of Gwen’s long legs. She flipped over one wayward collar which had recoiled earlier, and pulled on her tie tightly, dextrously re-tying the knot to form a perfect cravat. Gwen’s shoes were not near polished enough, but there was nothing Helena could do about that now. Helena admired her work. “I am sorry you had to suffer such a slouch of a student,” Helena remarked with a little too much emotion in her voice. “It’s fine. It’s fine…” Bartlett waved his hand dismissively. Helena retook her seat. Gwen stood beside her stiffly. I need to get out of here before this body goes hysterical. Gwen thought, her legs threatening to give out from the tension. As much as she willed it, however, her body refused to budge. “So, Gwen dearest…” her mother cooed. She liked her assonance long and sensual. “Why was I not informed?” “I- In...." her tongue was stuck in a barb wire snare. “Informed me that you were a rare and wondrous Quasi-Elementalist, hmm?” Her mother’s voice took on a higher note, “One of the best in the school your Principle said…” “Mother…” Gwen had a dozen explanations, but all her concentration was spent trying to suppress her tears from spilling. The back of her throat was a mess of taut muscles. “I… Er… I… wanted to…” Oh for fuck’s sake! Gwen’s rational mind screamed and raved. “Now now, Mrs Huang.” Bartlett tried to regain some control of the situation. It was self-evident by now that his student did not desire her mother's company. “Gwen has her reasons I am sure, but let me remind you before you challenge her decision, that the Tower has guaranteed the right for any Acolyte to live and study independently from their family.” Bartlett’s words made Helena’s eyes narrow, giving her irises the look of a tigress eyeing down an audacious prey. The smokey makeup brought out the green in her eyes and made them far more intimidating than they usually appeared. “I could hardly hope to infringe on Gwen’s decisions,” Helena spoke in a way that made Bartlett sweat. “That's why I am here in person.” “Oh?” She turned again, exposing herself a little dangerously before drawing from the floor a handbag. From within she produced what appeared to be a letter. The envelope was gold trimmed, embossed with a crown on its frontage. Bartlett’s brows furrowed and realised why this damned woman had made herself appear before him in person. “Lilith's College for Girls.” He breathed out with a defeated look. “Yes, I see you recognise the crest,” her mother intoned. She opened the envelope, withdrew a tri-folded letter made of thick, scented paper, then began to read out loud in that husky voice of hers. “We cordially invite Mrs Gwen Song, daughter of Helena Huang and Morye Song, eldest Grand Daughter of Magus Huang, Magus, Senior Enchanter, to attend the college for the duration of her academic career until graduation… ” Helena stopped reading. “You know what this means,” she roasted Bartlett with a tone of incontestable fact. “What… what does it mean?” Gwen asked weakly beside them. “It means…” Bartlett's voice softened “It means that I should recommend your retraction from our school so that you may begin your attendance at Lilith's College for girls in February.” “Why?” Now Gwen was beginning to feel genuine panic. Leave the school? Matters were escalating far beyond her wildest imagination. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Bartlett’s appeared as one crucified by his conscience. “One of the best facilities in Sydney, in Australia, Gwen. The most talented instructors. Endless resources that we cannot possibly begin to provide…” “I don’t care about that…” Gwen muttered. “Don’t be such a sulking child…” her mother scolded her. Helena pinched her. THE BITCH PINCHED HER! Gwen was aghast - but her body responded with the paralytic haplessness of a frog being stung by a hissing viper. “Of course it matters.” “Gwen, I am not forcing you to make a decision,” Bartlett continued. “But it is in my duty as your educator to tell you that this is a turning point.” “Gwen…” Bartlett continued. “If you graduate from Lilith's, you could be exempt from military service. What's more, you are guaranteed to attend University. If you were to graduate magna cum laude, you could be sent to a tier 1 city! You could live your adult life in London, or New York, or Shanghai!” Exempt from Military Service? Go to a Capital city? That was something none of her friends ever consider seriously. To live in the tier 2 cities of humanity had three certainties: death, taxes, and military service, all within the Frontier. The government propaganda had made it very clear that no one was exempt. “Miss Song…” The Principle seemed obliged to show her the whole hog, his tone becoming more solemn than before. “Think of it Gwen, to be able to live safely in the capitals of Spellcraft. You don’t have to risk your life for gainful employment or live under the shadow of an invasion. You could perhaps ascend to a position we could only dream of, become a Magus, perhaps a Magister!” The Principal's face was red with excitement now; even Helena was breathless at the prospect. Life in a Tier 1 city, in the absolute safety of the White Zones, was something those who lived on the Frontiers dreamt of constantly. “You could then attend the best Universities in the world. Cambridge, Oxford, Fudan. I can’t advise you to stay, Gwen… I can’t.” Gwen shuddered. Leave Blackwattle? Her immediate thoughts were of Yue and Elvia, who had worked so hard with her to achieve their enviable positions. Yue, whose bluster made her laugh and who helped her through that terrible ordeal, who stood by her side when she was feeling suicidal and hopeless. Elvia, her little angel, her faery who brought solace to her heart and studied hard to heal her wounds. Now her mother, her damned mother, came in here thinking she knew best, trying to take away from her the happiness that she had worked so hard to build for her self. But Gwen could not deny the truth that was behind Bartlett's words. Would she have said no, half a year prior? Would she have said no if she awoke to the talent and power she possessed but a year earlier and was therefore naturally slated for a school like Lilith's? The answer was No. She would have welcomed Lilith's with open arms! Both Gwens within her: the logical, rational, mature-minded Gwen who was pragmatic and realistic, as well as the teenager she had never known; the alone and vulnerable and terrified child - screamed for her to accept. Bartlett and Helena watched Gwen standing there unmoving, her eyes downcast and staring into the middle of the mahogany table. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock reverberated across the room like mallets striking their mind. It had been only a minute, nothing more; but Helena wasn't known for her patience. She was never one for waiting on others, and the fact that Gwen could not decide on something so SIMPLE, so OBVIOUS, grated on her nerves tremendously. “Could you give us some privacy, Magus Bartlett?” The Principle nodded before making for the door. It closed with a soft click, followed by the sound of a long, drawn-out breath. Helena turned to face her daughter, standing before her still as a statue. She surveyed her scion, measuring the worth of this fruit of her loins. Her daughter had dark, voluminous hair neither styled nor kept sufficiently conditioned, but still tumbled from her head like an inky waterfall. Gwen's face was handsome, defined, a trait of her father's. Her brows that cried out for a plucking nonetheless arched gracefully, her un-mascaraed lashes long and thick. She had a straight, aquiline nose that was graceful and tapered, with well-formed, sculpted lips that were naturally fleshy and plump. Helena loved Gwen’s eyes - they were her own. Sometimes emerald, sometimes amber, hazel under the dim light. Gwen's countenance was fair, a little fierce for Helena’s liking, but symmetrical and pleasing to the eye, both from afar and in close inspection. Her daughter possessed a swan's neck that was long and graceful, extending from her sharp shoulder blades and ending in a shallow dimple. Gwen's shoulders were toned and a little too athletic, which would have to go, though her long arms were slender and unobtrusive. Helena's gaze fell lower and measured with dissatisfaction that her daughter would not be dazzling anyone with her unobtrusive bust, at least not without a certain amount of padded charlatanism. They were a good shape though, and there were potential in perhaps another year or two. Her eyes fell even lower to Gwen's lower limbs; these were Helena's pride and joy. Gwen had long and slender legs that made her move and walk effortless grace. They were perfect, be it her tightly formed buttocks or her rounded thighs, or her incredulously extended calves and ankles. Helena smacked her lips enviously; she could scarcely summon the sympathy for her poor, foolish daughter, wasting her time here with these plebians. Doesn’t she understand the weight of her talent, the gift of her otherworldly beauty? The men who enrolled in these elite schools, their sons and their nephews, the Senators, the C.E.Os, and most importantly - the Magus and Magisters with their protégées, saw Lilith's as the source of their spouses. They would go mad for a girl like her. Helena knew this because she had been there. She was the top girl. SHE was going to have that life of being paired with the scion of a great house, of becoming someone of import. She could imagine it even now, the life she had missed out by impulsively marrying Gwen’s father because of a spiteful relationship with her father and brother. But Gwen could have all that. She hated to admit it, but Gwen was better equipped than herself. Gwen was a rare Quasi-Elementalist. She was a beauty. She was born to be put on a pedestal. Didn't Gwen desire a comfortable life? She could marry into one. Was becoming the young wife of a Magister impossible? No. Not for her daughter. Not with the gift of her blood and talent. Helena's cleavage rose and fell; her eyes sparkled like jewels. “Gwen.” Helena’s voice was a siren's song. “You know what is good for you.” Her mother’s hands enveloped Gwen's fingers. Helena's hands were flaming hot, Gwen’s cold and shivering. “Please, Gwen,” she said again. “This is for your own good.” Helena gripped her daughter’s wrists in the manner of twin shackles. No! No, I am not going anywhere, you fucking bitch. Gwen screamed into her mind. Helena was nailing her to some God-forsaken cross of personal wish-fulfilment. Indignant fire rose from within her, ignited by a bolt from the blue. MOVE IT! She commanded her sleeping body. MOVE IT, YOU USELESS WAIF! Gwen's Evocation sigil was suddenly ablaze, sending a torrent of energy to flow through her elemental gates, blasting across the conduits in her body. OH SHIT! A surge of cobalt-white lightning erupted from her hands and struck her mother full in the chest. For a second, comically, Gwen thought she could see her mother’s skeleton. As a trained Mage, Helena's body resisted Gwen's untamed lightning, even so, Helena was momentarily stunned. Below Gwen's mother, Bartlett's leather chair erupted, spurting blue-white plasma. The carpet singed as a Lichtenberg figure carved itself into the cashmere wool. More importantly, Gwen's Letter of Acceptance burst into flames. When Bartlett intruded into his room; what the Principal saw made him choke. The annoying levitation-mother had been thunderstruck, her perfect hair now a mess of standing static. Her cream dress soiled by burns that had disintegrated some of the fabric. Furthermore, Barlett's antique visitor’s chair had gone the way of the dodo. “Are… are you all alright?” Principal Bartlett enquired worriedly. That chair was one of a kind! Gwen meanwhile was beginning to realise her monumental fuck up. Her mind had become a blazing white world of unfiltered panic. She had gotten her body back, but now she had sailed up shit creek without a paddle. How would Helena respond? Threaten her? Sue her? Strike her down? Her mother was vain and proud and sometimes foolish, but she was no idiot. She was the most manipulative and scheming person Gwen knew by far. “Wonderful,” her mother suddenly spoke, a little ash ejecting from her mouth. What? Gwen realised this was not a good sign. I concur, What? Bartlett echoed Gwen's thoughts. “What a wonderfully channelled blast of Lightning, Gwen! Such pure, raw affinity.” Helena commended before taking her hands from her daughter’s wrists, leaving two black imprints. Gwen looked at Bartlett, who appeared equally creeped out. They waited for Helena to continue. “You attacked me, dearest,” Her mother lamented sadly, her voice calm and collected. “You, an unordained Mage, a mere neophyte, attacked me, a Sanctioned Mage and your parent. Unprovoked.” Bartlett felt his perfect beard unravel at the audacity of such an accusation. “Now… Now, Ms Song,“ he interjected. “Mrs Huang.” "Mrs Huang, Gwen is not-" “You better shut the hell up, right now, you government plebeian!” Helena’s catty response cracked the air like a whip, her breath both fire and brimstone. Principle Bartlett fell silent, his face turning the colour of cod liver. The woman was a mere Fire Evoker, and he was an accomplished Conjurer. If she weren't a parent - he wouldn't have minded teaching her a lesson in manners. “Gwen,” her mother continued, smoothing out her ruined hair with her hands. “You OWE me. Gwen Song.” She spat finally from between gnashing teeth. “If you at all want to continue your career as a Mage. You better start listening to those who care about you.” Her mother stood, then straightened her dress, now worse for wear. She raised a hand, and from thin air materialised a cream and chequered coat. A Ring of Storage… Principle Bartlett noted. An uncommon thing in the Frontier cities. Only the wealthy and the influential could possess such incredulous magical items. He was a Magus, a senior one at that, but not even he wore such Magical Items with such casual ease. His Ring was assigned when there was a mission; it was not a personal item. Was Helena a member of a notable House? It made no sense. Her daughter was as poor as a church mouse! “I am leaving,” Helena declared coldly. “Lilith's or no, I expect to see you at your Uncle's manor this weekend; Kwan has requested to see you. You brought this on yourself, ungrateful child. I did my due diligence as your mother.” Then like a departing storm, she was gone. Gwen and her Principal met each other from across the room. “I am sorry about the chair, Sir,” Gwen apologised, unsure of what else to say. “Think nothing of it.” Her Principle shot her a worried look. “I’ll do what I can for you Gwen, but- ease up on the mana leaks.” “Thank you, Sir.” Bartlett watched the girl amble dejectedly from his office before he sat in his surviving chair. He could imagine Helena holding a grudge with the tenacity of a Gila's genetic memory. Once outside, Gwen loosened her tie, pulled out her shirt, then made her skirt comfortable. Her uncle's Manor. She hadn't seen uncle Kwan since the family broke up. Her uncle’s compound was in North Sydney, not far from Kirribilli. She recalled that the place had been vast and pretentious, a brute of a building with an undeserving view of Sydney Harbour. “Or else,” her mother had warned. Rationally, at least for now, she had no other options, Gwen acknowledged bitterly. She sighed, feeling more tired than ever. It didn't take a Diviner to know her near-future was going to suck.

“I’ll burn their Manor down.” Yue was a bar away from busting a gasket. “It’s fine… it's fine…” Gwen patted her hand. “I’ll be in and out in half a day, just showing my face.” “Are you sure it’s going to be alright…” Elvia hugged her pillow with a face full of worries. “I’ve been to a few of these things before, but thankfully people thought I was twelve…” “What things?” Yue became instantly suspicious. “Nothing, just a meet and greet.” Gwen tried to pass the matter off, but Elvia was terrible at misdirection. “EVEE, tell me everything,” Yue commanded. Gwen tried her best to stop Elvia blurting out the truth, but Yue was relentless. “It’s… a marriage meeting thing…” Elvia began nervously. “Are you shitting me?” The Fire Evoker exploded as expected, making Gwen flinch. “Your stupid family is selling you off?” “I am not going to let that happen!” Gwen promised. “Well if you’re not back in school before we have to go to the Field Trip…” Yue spat between snarling lips. “I am going to burn the place down.” “They have Guards in places like those,” Elvia added. “My dad has one that follows him wherever he goes as well, although Lukas is more like an Uncle. You don't want to make trouble for your mum, right, Yue?" Yue grunted unhappily. “Be careful alright?” “Yeah,” Gwen answered, wishing that she could be as sure of her circumstances as Yue's intent in burning down her uncle's house. The team practised as usual on Friday, rested, then planned out the final details on Saturday. Gwen informed Jun and Henley that she would have to visit family on Sunday, and the team promised to pack for her so that upon her return Sunday night, she would be ready to leave with the first coach on Monday. Sheepishly, Gwen unveiled 'that' particular part of her closet, with both Elvia and Yue baulking at the excess. She had to dress to impress, that was undoubtedly a part of the deal. Something classy but cute, petite and svelte. Something that 'sold' her. Elvia and Yue bickered over her choices until Gwen picked out a china-blue sleeveless Sunday dress modelled after Ming porcelain, yet another gifted Miu Miu she couldn't afford. Yue had Elvia helped to style her hair, creating a dense, messy bun of loose coils with a loose fringe framing her face. After thickly applying mascara, Gwen's lashes gained the curvature and rigidity of scimitars. To finish, she plumped her lips with a coat of gloss. She then opened a suitcase that she had kept on top of the cabinet, and removed from it another dazzling assortment of accessories and a half dozen pair of shoes. Yue and Elvia squealed with glee. Gwen selected a pair of wedge sandals in a shade which was pleasing when worn with the dress. “Oh-My-God, Gwenny.” Yue could scarcely breathe. “Marry me right now.” Elvia fiercely agreed. “Hopefully, I won’t have to do this too often…” Gwen remarked. Even with help, it was a tremendous undertaking. In the hallway, Gwen was met by violent gasps and the sudden sucking-in of breaths. Inside the elevator, other passengers stared, too afraid to speak. Considering the state of Sydney's public transport, Gwen gritted her teeth and called for a private Cab. Perversely, her driver kept his eyes on her far too long and almost had an accident before they made it across the Harbour Bridge. Heart-in-mouth, passenger and driver pulled into Kirribilli after an hour. The Cab rolled into a parking bay circulating the Manor's frontage, gaudily decorated with a gigantic statue of a sea-shelled Aphrodite in her radiant glory, ejaculating two streams of water from her nipples. As Gwen's cab pulled up at the front door, a suited, black-visored guard threw a fifty through the driver side window before opening the door for Gwen. YES! Fifty bucks SAVED. Gwen mentally fist-pumped the air. It was impossible to read the guard's expression behind the glasses censoring his face, so Gwen instead turned to regard the estate. An extensive property of about two thousand square-meters, her uncle’s Manor had a harbour facing frontage. The manor was a freestanding sanctuary of exclusivity, space and opulence. The modern facade of the estate possessed four open levels bathed in natural light, with floors dressed in French oak and walls in antique-white. “Please follow me, Ma’am,” the guard intoned with reverence, taken aback by Gwen's feminine presence. Gwen followed, noting the prevalence of dark-suited men patrolling the compound. I guess Yue’s not burning this house down, Gwen remarked sourly. What the hell did her uncle do anyway? The bloody mansion reminded her of a mafioso movie set. “GWEN! MY LOVELY NIECE!” A voice like rolling thunder boomed across the hallway. Gwen stiffened as all eyes in the room shifted toward her, pinning her with their hawkish gaze. Well shit, so much for subtlety. Gwen sighed internally. “Uncle! I missed you so much,” she sang out thrillingly, hoping the effort was sensational enough to satisfy her uncle. Kwan Huang was a giant of a man, made larger than life by his preference for loose polo shirts and baggy pants. Overweight and overbearing, Kwan roved and loomed wherever he went. Unlike Gwen's mother, Kwan appeared to have gained the lion’s share of the Huang's South East Asian heritage inherited from their Grandfather. The man's face was one that gave an air of benevolence, but beneath which hid a chilling ruthlessness. In the years since the family’s rise to riches, Kwan had gotten fat and bulbous: not thick in the way that white men grew heavy, with their beer-bellies, but swelling like a durian, with spikes to match. Her uncle came on like a storm. Gwen felt his uninvited, mitt-sized hands wrap around her hips, lifting her with ease off the ground as he pressed the air from her ribcage. The upward draft caused her skirt to hoist dangerously, forcing Gwen to pat down her hem lest the audience enjoyed a free show. When she became sufficiently disorientated by the embarrassment, he set her down facing the crowd of stickybeaked onlookers. “Beautiful!” He bellowed, a little puffed out from the performance. “I remember doing that when you were a little girl, but you’re a young lady now, Gwen.” “I’ve missed you, Uncle.” Kwan then slipped an arm around her elbow and towed her behind him. In the open living room, the assembly of guests intensely scrutinised the tall blue flower bewilderingly brought into their midst. “Helena's been hiding you from us hmm?” Kwan announced jovially. His arm was as strong as a bear's. “I heard the good news, Gwen. You don’t know how happy that makes me.” “It’s nothing, Uncle.” Gwen tried to retrieve the arm she'd lost to a bear trap. She tried keeping up with her long striding uncle; her heels making progress both awkward and painful. “Bosh! You are the best thing that has happened to us for a long time,” her uncle noted. “Except Richard of course, but that’s old news.” “How is Aunty doing?” “Well, very well. Tali's with a client at the moment, but you’ll see her soon enough. She has been asking about you nonstop since the news broke.” Kwan’s voice had a kind of projective force to it, giving Gwen the impression that he never spoke to just one person. Soon, they seemed to have reached their first stop. “Patrick! My boy! Come here. I want you to meet the belle of the ball!” Gwen watched a young man saunter toward them. 'Patrick' wore a dawn-tinted shirt paired with grey, herringbone pants and brown leather oxfords. “Kwan, is THIS the niece you were boasting? She’s stunning! Stunning I tell you!” An older man’s eyes roved up and down Gwen’s body, making her skin crawl. “Patrick, come and greet Gwen, show some of those gentlemanly manners I’ve been paying through the nose for.” “My lady.” Patrick bowed. Gwen marvelled that his hair didn’t move a millimetre. “Gwen.” Gwen returned a curtsy. Her mother loved curtsies. Patrick’s eyes could have shot sparks. “Patrick Oliver.” He offered her an arm. Kwan’s grin extended from ear to ear. “Not so soon!” He roared with laughter, joined by the older European businessman. “We still got the round to make. After that, you young people can get privately acquainted.” And make the rounds they did. Gwen met an assortment of young men anxious for her company, joined by a few girls whose eyes weren't nearly so friendly. There were younger children present too, but they were far too interested in chasing one another around the house. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. “Looking a little too eager there Derrick!” Kwan roared as he and yet another older man shook and slapped one another on the back. The young man who introduced himself as Derrick had a lean and hungry look about him that made Gwen uncomfortable. The boy wasn't bad looking, possessing a firm jaw and a compact body, brown eyes and cropped hair that screamed Military cadet. Gwen recalled that Derrick's father had stated the boy was a Cadet, no wonder Gwen's exposed skin overstimulated the repressed soldier. At any rate, it was hard to tell, but the boy did try to pull Gwen toward him when they shook, and Uncle Kwan was forced to cough discourteously, which made Derrick's father flustered and irate. When finally all the introductions were finished, Kwan released Gwen into the middle of his spacious living room. She levelled her dress and felt the noon sun providing much-needed warmth over her bare legs. Perhaps if Gwen were an actual teenager, she would have enjoyed the attention, the flattery, but knowing what she knew, she felt nought but self-loathing. Kwan's booming voice came from within the house. “Gwen, a demonstration please! Your best spell!” Gwen moved towards her uncle, who pulled her onto a dais that placed her at the centre of the middle deck. I feel like a showroom model, Gwen reflected sardonically. Here we have my fat uncle, who I am convinced is a right bastard. To her surprise, a series of targets appeared in the bay some thirty metres away, rising from the sea to form little dummies roughly the size and shape of a man. She looked around the room and sensed the presence of Conjuration magic. “Gwen, your very best!” Uncle Kwan’s eyes met her own. An understanding passed between them. The display was not a request. Well, this is why I am here. Gwen rationalised her show pony actuality. She told herself to bear with it. Delay until she can figure something out. “Of course, Uncle,” she replied with a smile. Gwen turned to the targets and used the refractory method taught by Alesia to ping the spatial latitude and longitude of her quarry. She opened up her Evocation conduits and allowed the familiar feeling to envelop her mana conduits. “Guiding Bolt!” She incanted theatrically. From the blue above a bolt of purple ion struck the watery targets, dissipating into the water. The crowd nodded with satisfaction. So it was true, the girl did possess a rare talent in high-tier lightning. “Blast Bolt!” Gwen channelled more than half of her reserve, sending a tempest of cobalt bolts into the target, sending the water into a frenzy of emerald-white fissures. A small tsunami washed over the concrete seawall facing the property, bowling over the garden’s prized azaleas. The assembly erupted into thunderous applause. “Beautiful!” Uncle Kwan announced again, raising a toast to his darling niece. A smudge of rouge appeared and faded from Gwen’s cheeks as she recovered, casting her inadvertently in a more feminine light. The applause continued for some time; without a drink to toast, Gwen curtsied once again before fleeing the platform. Some distance away, in the privacy of the garden, she caught her breath. Her head throbbed, combining a migraine with a feeling of vertigo. Quizzically, she felt unusually hungry and parched. “It’s good to see you.” Gwen twirled to face the new voice and found it to be the familiar face of Kwan's wife. Aunt Tali was an unassuming looking woman of tremendous ability; said by many to be the sole reasons for the rise of House Huang. She was a shrewd businesswoman, well connected, always smiling and amiable in her memory. There was a young man beside her. Tall like her Uncle, lean of body, clean shaven with a pair of horned-rim glasses, giving off a jovial air, as though laughing at a joke only he could comprehend. The young man was Richard Huang, the prevailing heir, the hopes and dreams of House Huang. Gwen knew OF his cousin but had only met him twice. Richard awoke in his early teens to the School of Conjuration. Every other monthly dinner, Helena would bitterly complain that Richard was slated for greatness at Prince’s, while Gwen was a squib. Then, after a melodramatic sigh, Helena would regard her daughter as though she was mentally disabled, shaking her head tragically. Gwen's response was to flee home and bury her head in her pillow until she water-boarded herself with tears. Studying his cousin with intense interest, Richard opened his mouth to speak. “Both the blonde dickhead and the depressing jarhead are from Princes.” He coolly observed. “They should be useful to you in school if you go to Lilith's, their family is well connected. Don't be surprised if they get a little handsy though. They're virgins.” What? Gwen blinked. Were her ears deceiving her? “Richard, be nicer to your cousin!” Aunty Tali stabbed her son in the foot with her kitten heels. “Say something nice.” “Nice dress,” Richard replied in the same tone, then seemed to remember that he needed to say something nice about Gwen too. “Nice legs.” “…” Aunty looked apologetically at Gwen, “Richard doesn’t hang around with many girls, Prince's is an all-boys school.” “It’s alright aunty.” Gwen sidled closer to Richard, curious as to acquire an unexpected ally. “Do you like my dress? It's a Miu-Miu.” She twirled before him, the hem lifting little from the centrifugal force. She watched his eyes shift up and down, his attention moving from her heels to her legs, to her waist and finally back to her eyes. “You are stunning,” Richard stated, his demeanour slipping just a tad before correcting himself. "I like you, Cousin Gwen." “You're certainly charming, Gwen.” Aunty nodded approvingly, her eyes feasting on her niece. “I have no idea why your mother has such impeccable taste for your dresses, but never for herself…” Gwen chuckled. She had no idea if Aunty Tali was genuine in her speech or just playing along, but she felt far more comfortable speaking to her than to her uncle, who gave the distinct impression he was trying to hawk her to the highest bidder. “Is mother here?” Gwen asked. “Not on her life, no.” Tali smiled. ”Don’t mind it; you know she can’t stand these things. Half of these young men’s fathers duelled to be her fiancee back way when. There is no way she would want to meet their spouses." “How about you, Richard?” Gwen pivoted to Richard, happy that her mother was absent. "How's life?" “I am a Prefect,” Richard spoke in the manner of someone rattling off the weather. It was only his eyes that betrayed a keen intelligence. “I am looking forward to bigger things as well, such as the Selection for the Four Houses.” “That’s wonderful Richard,” Gwen cooed at him. She rather liked the young man and his guileless manner of speaking. “Richard, you better let your cousin go before someone duels you.” Aunty pointed to a half a dozen young men waiting in the gardens to speak to Gwen. “Not that anyone would stand a chance against you, ha!" “Their abilities are subpar,” intoned Richard with the surety of a sage. “They spend too much time whoring and drinking. Gwen should beware. Maybe she should be my companion instead. What do you say, jailbait?” “Richard!” Aunty Tali gave him another heel-in-foot. “They make excellent social currency though.” Richard seemed unable to stop himself. “I wouldn't let them get too comfortable, but you could benefit by playing along.” Holy shit, Richard is a wunderkind, Gwen found herself gazing upon her cousin with genuine wonder. How bloody talented do you have to be to survive an aristocratic school of assholes with a mouth like that? Growling, Tali took Richard away, leaving Gwen alone in the garden. Within a minute, young men flocked to the pale blue rose, each one a desirous bee buzzing for her attention. Patrick was the ‘blonde’, so it seemed, and Derrick was the ‘jarhead’. Richard did indeed possess an eye for detail. “So, my dad manages the Suncorp Energy Division.” Patrick began an exposition about his family and his connections in the manner of a man trying to hawk snake oil. When she told them that she attended Blackwattle, the boys became flabbergasted. Small talk came and went, flitting from topics of Spellcraft to competition, politics to the latest trends. The wide range of issues made Gwen awkwardly aware of just how little she knew about the world outside Blackwattle. To these elite academy youngsters, she truly was a Frontier bumpkin. “You must be thirsty, let me get you a drink.” Patrick volunteered. “Thanks, Patrick.” She nodded courteously at him. "Could I trouble you for some canapès as well?" Patrick waltzed away happily. God, I am famished, Gwen caught a smidgen of bile in on her tongue. Hopefully, Patrick could make good on his promise. "!" Someone was breathing down her neck. What the fuck? Gwen spun so quickly that when she tried to turn on her back foot, her heel caught on a wayward boot, causing her to lose her balance. Before she could recover, a pair of invasive hands cupped her waist, pulling them closer towards their owner. When Gwen finally caught herself, she found herself in the midst of being roughly manhandled by Derek, whose face was flushed with excitement, and whose hands were taking on a wandering quality. Resist. RESIST. Gwen screamed internally. DON’T BLOW HIM UP. She imagined herself NOT channelling mana, NOT allowing her Evocation Sigil to flare up, NOT turning Derek into a white-hot human torch. Derek seemed pleased with his suave manoeuvre. Seeing that Gwen was unresisting and had her eyes half-closed, he assumed her a willing participant. A wayward hand cupped her buttcheek. Someone besides them chuckled. Well, fuck it. Gwen reached for the offending limb. "Ligh-!" “Whoa there, Tiger!” A piercing voice like a chorus of archangels rang out across the garden with the clarion clarity. “You must never touch a lady without her permission!” Gwen turned to see the heartening appearance of Alesia, her instructor, striding radiantly on red stiletto heels, floating across the French oak floors like a flaming flower. Derek withdrew his hands, looking downcast guiltily. “Begone, Cadet, before you disappear permanently.” Alesia's rebuke snapped across Derek's face like a whip. Derek fled like a man on fire. Patrick, who had been returning in a huff with drinks in hand, performed a sterling exemplar of an about-turn and disappeared into the house. “My, my!” Uncle Kwan’s booming voice echoed across the room. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “Boss Huang,” Alesia answered sardonically, hinting at her disdain. “Kwan will do,” Gwen’s uncle replied. “Hell, the Scarlet Sorceress can call me whatever she wants.” “Miss De Botton.” Aunty joined them cautiously. “I love your propaganda Vids,” Richard joined the fray. “I am a fan.” “Why thank you, Richard.” Alesia beamed. Gwen remained silent, imagining herself polymorphed into a mouse. Tali and Alesia made meaningless small talk until finally, Kwan felt offended enough to cut to the chase. “If I may ask… what is someone of your stature doing visiting a lowly merchant like me?” Kwan asked. Alesia looked at Gwen, who had been stunned this whole while. “I am here for my Apprentice,” Alesia finally said. “I am sorry?” “What?” “Can I be your apprentice as well?” “Not now Richard…” “My apprentice, Gwen Song,” Alesia declared chillingly. “And I am displeased by what I have seen.” Kwan’s face began to sweat. Aunty’s a little paler. “You're taking on any new ones?” Richard persisted. “Sorry dear, you’re the wrong School and the wrong element.” “I am disappoint...” Richard looked downcast. Conversely, Kwan was full of wariness. “Is this official? Has Gwen given her consent?” “Gwen?” Alesia turned to her student. Gwen's mind was reeling. Things were going too fast for her to follow, but she knew it was now or never. Her affirmation would piss off her uncle, but seriously, she thought to herself. Fuck that guy. “I would love nothing more than to have you as my Master,” Gwen intoned. “Teacher, dear.” Alesia pulled Gwen closer. “Master is so old. I am too young to be a Master.” “You can’t do this…” Kwan’s voice took on a note of warning. “You come into my house, crash my party, and take my niece…” “Kwan…” Aunty touched her husband’s arm. “Calm yourself.” “You… you…” Kwan seemed to be working himself up, measuring his options. Around them, Alesia could see the guards converging. “Try me?” Alesia turned to Kwan boldly. “Are you so clean as to be immune to a good investigation Boss Huang? Does the concern of Paladin Gunther Shultz tickle your fancy?” “Ah... er.. of course not.” Kwan deflated at the mention of Gunther Shultz. "I thought as much. But you know what? I am not an unreasonable woman." Alesia tsked. "Here, a fair trade." The Scarlet Sorceress drew into the folds of her dress and brought forth an envelope, one very similar to the one Gwen’s mother had possessed, embossed with a Sigil of Crown and Sword. “A commendation for Richard for the Four Houses?” Alesia waved the envelope to and fro. "Only a few of these exist in all of Sydney." “I would like to have a commendation,” Richard instantly replied, a hint of emotion betraying his usual countenance. "Please." Aunty Tali intercepted her husband's rebuttal by giving him a strongly worded heel in the foot, sending Kawn away, groaning and swearing. “May I?” Alesia nodded. Tali unpacked the letter and scanned its contents. “Deal.” She said quickly, putting the letter on her person before Alesia could change her mind. “Let them leave.” “…and her mother?” Alesia asked. “I’ll take care of it, for now.” Aunt Tali answered briskly. “But Gwen will have to make the call when the time comes.” “Agreed.” Alesia extended a hand, and the two women shook. It was far easier to make a deal between rational, logical, and consenting parties. Such was the way of competent women freed from the masculine ego. Gwen and Alesia watched the guards melt away. “Teacher?” Gwen still couldn't believe her eyes or her ears. That was it? Was it done? “Let's get out of here first.” The two retreated hand-in-hand under the envious gazes of the astonished assembly. There was a red Alfa Romeo outside, a classic Spider-class convertible with a woman's curvature. Alesia REALLY likes the colour red. Gwen observed. “Get in, Tiger.” Alesia popped the passenger door with a wave of her hand. “It’s a long drive back.”

The red Alfa must have moved a dozen meters in the last ten minutes. So that’s why it was a long ride ahead. Gwen realised when they finally passed the Harbour Bridge. The Mage-world might be full of magic, but traffic jams were a cardinal rule of any universe. “We should have changed,” Alesia sulked, full of annoyance as yet another carload of stickybeak passengers wolf-whistled. Gwen tried to sink lower into her seat, but their carmine sports-coupe provided no such cover. They were already absurdly conspicuous driving down the M1 in a blazingly red classic convertible, its racing spec, straight-eight engine growling and thrumming like an orc, leaving trails of inefficient mana burn. Adding to their engine of wanton attention was Alesia and Gwen's couture dresses and their startlingly gorgeous faces, further slowing traffic to a standstill. An SUV of young men out on their Sunday drive had been floating beside them for a good twenty minutes now, resulting in Gwen feeling carsick. “If this was a Tier 1 city, I could be using my flight licence,” Alesia complained bitterly, flipping the bird to yet another driver that drifted too close. Her Instructor’s demeanour reminded Gwen of Yue, though Alesia was altogether more svelte and collected. “Ma’am…” Gwen asked carefully. “Am I your apprentice?” “Do you want to be my apprentice?” Alesia gave Gwen a red-lipped smile. “Wouldn’t Yue be a better option? She’s Fire-talented, and an Evoker like you.” “That’s not what I asked.” Alesia kept her eyes on the road as the traffic began to move. “Do you want to be my apprentice?” “Can I be honest, Ma’am?” “Shot.” “I have no idea what it means to be your apprentice…” Gwen confessed; as an adult, she knew the value of blatant honesty. "Ha." Alesia laughed. "Okay, Let me explain..." She informed her that there were Apprentices, and there were 'apprentices'. In the classic sense, an Apprentice was someone who stood to inherit the material wealth and mental knowledge of the Master. The exchange was that the apprentice essentially offered free labour for the duration of their apprenticeship, living cheek-to-cheek with his or her master, a domestic servant-cum-student-cum-assistant, and heir. In the traditional sense, it made no sense for Gwen to be Alesia’s apprentice. They were different elements, and that meant a considerable divergence in spell philosophy and theory. Likewise, if Alesia were to fall, her most valuable possession, which was her Scarlet Flame Spirit, could hardly migrate to Gwen, who was not a Fire Mage. Then, of course, there were the apprentice-in-name. These were more akin to students following a tutor, or a postgrad following a professor. These relationships were typically temporal, taken in exchange for some measured outcome, such as researching a particular spell or done as a favour for one’s alumni. “I like you, Gwen,” Alesia said after listening to Gwen’s queries. “Hardworking, outspoken, you remind me of myself at your age, though our circumstances are a little different. For one, your parents are arseholes, and mine were eaten alive.” "...sorry." "You'll get over it." Alesia brushed back a wayward ringlet. “Let me ask you something though. I want you to think about it carefully.” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Do you WANT to attend Lilith & Prince's?” Alesia demanded, much to Gwen’s surprise. “Do you understand the opportunity you are giving up?” Gwen ruminated in silence. Pragmatism versus sentimentality made bitter pills with jagged edges. The rational answer was obvious, but she had already walked that path long ago. Was she happy? Arguably. But she had lost people and connections she'd rather keep this time around. “I want to stay with Yue and Elvia,” Gwen said at last. “There's no meaning to my success if I can’t share it with them.” “That’s what I like to hear.” Alesia seemed pleased with Gwen's answer. “A little romanticism never hurt nobody.” “So, about the apprenticeship…” “You’ll be under my protection for now, though I am afraid my regular job will take me places you can't follow. Still, the right people in the right places know who I am, and they’ll either give you a hand or at least, leave you alone.” “An apprenticeship-in-name?” Gwen affirmed softly, a little disappointed. Alesia laughed, giving Gwen a glance from her ultra-marine orbs before returning her attention to the road. “I may take on Yue though,” Alesia added nonchalantly. Gwen felt a pang of unbidden jealousy. “She’s a good fit, don’t you think?” “I think so too,” Gwen answered, dispelling any doubt. She was too old for peevish envy. “That mean’s I’ll be taking her with me when the time comes, a few years around the world and all that,” Alesia continued. “What do you think?” “It would be her lucky day,” Gwen answered earnestly. “Well, don’t get her hopes up.” Alesia laughed. “Impress me next week on the Field Trip.” “We’ll do our best, Ma’am.” They turned off the highway and made for the dorm, driving under the thrum and throttle of the thirsty engine for a few more minutes. The Gwen of her heart felt a little dejected, but the Gwen of the mind knew that Alesia did an incredible thing for her. She owed this woman more than she can begin to repay. “Miss...Alesia…” Gwen cleared her throat. “Thank you so much for what you did today. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, and I had no idea what was going to happen, but you came to my aid when I needed it the most.” The dorm came into view. Alesia pulled up inside the bay. Around them, students stopped in their tracks to stare. “It was a favour for Principle Bartlett, get him some chocolates later,” Alesia informed Gwen cooly. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. When she spoke again; her voice was softer. “But I also did it for you, Gwen, because I believe you were worth saving.” “Thank you, Ma’am, for everything.” Gwen quaked with emotion. Alesia's unexpected kindness was the first time since coming to this world that she had felt such strong passions of dependence. Gwen had Yue, of course, and Elvia, but they were kids, vulnerable and unwise themselves. Alesia was the sort of mentor she needed; someone who could empathise and understand her turmoils. Seeing Gwen’s worshipful appearance, Alesia’s cheeks took on the hue of pippins. “I’ll see you at the Camp tomorrow night.” She waved Gwen goodbye. “Get some sleep Tiger; it's going to be a tiring week.” The girls celebrated Gwen returning in one piece. She told them a play-by-play of what had occurred at the party, as well as Alesia’s incredible eleventh-hour prevention of Gwen potentially committing a homicide. “Those guys are assholes,” Yue hissed. “That Derek piece of shit would be missing half a face if he tried to paw me.” I don’t think anyone would dare to paw Yue, Gwen and Elvia riposted in their minds. “Well, Patrick was alright, just a little too hung up on his family’s fortunes,” Gwen continued. “But Richard was the bomb.” “Your cousin sounds like an alright bloke,” Yue agreed, “you can unleash him in an argument and people would be speechless. Did you see what he could do in a fight?” “Didn’t get a chance.” Gwen shook her head. “He said he was shortlisted for the Four Courses or something? Instructor Alesia gave him a commendation.” “The Four Houses,” Elvia interjected. “Are they like nobility?” Gwen asked. “We have aristocrats now?” “Come on, everyone knows about Princes!” “…” Gwen had been so preoccupied playing catch up on magical theory that she had neglected the mundane aspects of her school life. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. “Out with it then,” Gwen confessed her ignorance. Elvia explained that the Greater Schools established in Sydney and Melbourne were not schools founded by the Frontier government, but frontier branches of venerated Tier 1 schools stemming from the old country. The greatest and most prestigious of these schools, Prince’s, had close ties to Cambridge, Oxford, The London College of Magical Arts, and the much-lauded Imperial College of London. Each of these major players had established a House, an alumni club of sorts, which handpicked talented students to be ‘elevated’. As to what that meant exactly, Elvia was unsure since her father had never met anyone who had enjoyed these perks. Probably what Principle Bartlett was extolling, Gwen thought. The privilege of avoiding mandatory military service. The privilege of citizenship in a Tier 1 City. The privilege of attending ancient institutions, the progenitors of Spellcraft. “You know, Elvia, it’s been bugging me for a while, but why are you not attending a school like Lilith's?” Yue demanded after listening to Elvia’s exposition into a world she had no idea existed. Elvia’s sapphire irises met Gwen’s, and the girls read on her pale face the self-evident answer. If someone like Gwen could be gobbled up with ease by such a world, then someone like Elvia had no chance. “Right, sorry I asked.” Yue withdrew her question apologetically. “Father said it was best if I made normal friends, and marry away from those… people,” Elvia replied. "I don't regret it. I am thrilled I got to meet both of you.” “Me too, Evee.” “Me three,” Gwen declared. The trio then held one another' hands, a gesture which further affirmed Gwen's conviction. “Let's kick some ass starting tomorrow,” Yue announced. “We have to pay back Miss Alesia.” "How can we not?" Gwen quipped. "Aren't we the dynamic duo?!" They were up bright and early, each lugging a backpack tied down with bedrolls and supplies. Their prim uniforms had been replaced by sports uniforms, which consisted of tapered T-shirts. The girls had the choice of dry-fibre skirts, spats, or shorts with knee socks, and the boys had the option of tracks or shorts with tall socks. Elvia and Yue felt comfortable in their skirts, but Gwen preferred spats. Wish I had a Storage Ring, Gwen pondered as she hoisted her backpack. She had a portion of Elvia’s supply too because the small girl became instantly dwarfed, looking like a blonde-haired snail. Elvia had mentioned that her family did possess a few Storage Rings, though she lacked access to the rare device as losing one would be akin to totalling a car. Their coach was a regular old bus with spotty air conditioning, rumbling as it made its way towards the Shield Barriers. As the excursion approached the limits of human habitation, Gwen recognised the risen forms of Shield Towers reaching like daggers for the sky, each sheathed within nigh-impenetrable rectangular buildings called Shield Forts. The Forts were akin to cannon fortifications used during the war against the Beast Tides of the Wildlands. They resembled dark obsidian mounds that rose from the scrubland a hundred metres into the air. Each of the Forts was said to be self-repairing and damage resistant. From the tip of the protruding tower, a single mana crystal, gargantuan beyond belief, could be seen half-hidden. In Senior Spellcraft, Gwen and company learnt that these artificially constructed towers could project resonance barriers spanning hundreds of kilometres. A skilled Barrier-Abjurer could further alter the height, thickness, and even elemental quality of the shields to deal with whatever the Wildlands decided to throw at the human cities. “Hey Gwen, your father is a Barrier Mage, right?” someone asked. “Yeah, not here though.” Gwen had no idea where her father was stationed. Even in her old life, Gwen’s father wasn't forthcoming about his employment, merely stating that he ‘worked for the council.’ When Gwen finally left home at 16, she couldn’t care less where he worked. At the checkpoint, border staff screened and scanned the bus for anything questionable, after which the kids were finally beyond the obsidian gates. “Alright everyone, listen up!” the baritone voice's owner was their survivalist Instructor, Ranger Boone. “We are now beyond the sanctuary of the shield wall. You have just taken your first step into the real world.” A clamour of murmurs resonated across the coach; Boone waited for the kids to be quiet. “Our base camp is another two hours away,” he orientated the students. “Groups 1 - 5 will be going to site Alpha, and Groups 6 - 9, that’s us, will be going to site Beta.” “Instructors and medical staff will be onsite at all times in the main base camp. Your job is to accomplish at a minimum, three of the five objectives. On the third day, you will report for roll call in the main base camp, before returning to your designated camping sites.” “Role call!” The Instructor announced, producing a ‘phone’ that Gwen now knew acted as a Divination beacon. Each of the students had theirs issued when they enrolled. Their Instructor’s variant possessed the ability to track secondary devices. The Magi-tech constructs were of intense interest to Gwen, who lived through the explosive informative age of the internet’s exponential world dominion in the 00s, though she had yet had an opportunity to investigate such matters. Supposedly, tier 1 cities produced Magitech, while the Frontier used hand-me-downs. “Sync check your Devices. They are augur-locked to reveal your location and inform us in the event of serious harm or injury,” Boone repeated a few times what he'd been drilling into the students. “DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT be separated from your device for any reason, and do not give your device to anyone else.” Outside the window, Gwen watched the sparse shrubbery turn to bushland, and finally into forests of swarthy Blue Gums twisting their white branches sinuously like human limbs, reaching for the ultramarine sky. “Gwen, your Device,” Boone’s voice snapped beside her. “Here you are, Sir.” She produced her Message Device and watched it play through a series of beeps that informed the user it synced. “Good luck.” He nodded. “The Principle has high hopes for your group.” “Thank you, Sir.” Concrete bitumen gave way to roads paved with crushed stone, finally becoming dusty fire trails of red earth. The central base basecamp consisted of a few permanent concrete structures spanning an area no more than a football field. One was a two-tier structure with glass windows that served as the Instructors’ residence. Another was the meeting hall, a fortification suitable for hosting a hundred or so adults. The most valuable building, however, was the one attached to the Instructors’ dwelling. It was a large, communal outhouse-hybrid-bathroom, and from the looks of it, it had a shower section. Jun and Henley met with their female counterparts after the second bus alighted. Each of the pre-assigned teams formed up, gave their well-wishes, then made for their designated areas by tracking progress on a handheld map. We better not get lost, Gwen looked at the map worryingly. She had barely passed orienteering. “Hey!” A voice called out as they reached the edge of the campsite. The group turned to see Debora and her trio of Transmuters. To their shock, she had cropped her beautiful ponytail and now sported a pixie cut. “Debs!” Gwen greeted her childhood friend. “May the best woman win!” Debora called out across the camp. “WE"LL KICK YOUR ASS!” Yue announced confidently, her voice like a thunderclap. Debora flipped them the bird before disappearing into the bush. The group then made its way through an undergrowth that quickly grew difficult. Now in the wilderness, Gwen took a moment to take it all in, measuring it up against the ‘wilderness’ of her old world. Their designated fire trail led over a ridge and down a gully, along the way, ring-barked trees stretched out like gnarly fingers amongst overgrown ferns and chaotic, hoary grass. “Look at that!” Yue pointed, and the group noted an enormous gumtree over thirty-metres in height, with a semi-hollowed trunk that resembled the mouth of an open cavern. Red blood crystals formed on its surface where insects or natural elements had stripped away the bark, giving the impression of a distorted face weeping blood. “Blood Gum,” Jun observed. “Henly, anything?” “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Henley replied after blasting it with a few Detecting spells. The group moved in the trained formation in which they had become accustomed to, carefully foraging through the bushland for potential dangers. “One target, six o clock, elevated, stationary, medium,” Henley announced suddenly. The group halted. Jun readied himself. An adult goanna, a black brute of a beast, made its lazy way down the side of a tree. It was medium sized, sure, but to the students, it felt enormous, larger than life. They watched its beady eyes measuring them with neither interest nor hostility, its forked tongue flicking this way and that. “Do we kill it?” “It’s just fauna, leave it,” Jun advised. “No benefit in killing something like that.” The thing moved closer out of curiosity. “Or not…” Yue swallowed, allowing a fiery spark to escape her hand. She had been apprehensive of snakes and reptiles since she was a child. “Wait…” Jun laid down a small barrier of frost, which seemed to deter the reptilian creature, directing it away from the group. “Fuck me,” Yue breathed out. “They're bigger in real life.” “They grow up to six metres…” Elvia stated helpfully. Yue's skin came alive with goosebumps. “Let's keep moving.” The group made it to their designated camping area and had the rest of the afternoon to build their shelters. Alesia had taught the group, who lacked a utility mage, some cheap and easy tricks to create housing, such as using ice to lock branches and other components in place before tying them with rope and securing them against trees. Though nowhere as competent as what the Transmuters or earthen Abjurers could have constructed, the group nonetheless manage to create their shelters to code, elevated and hoisted above the ground to avoid snakes and insects just as the sun began to fade. “Alright, that’s one objective accomplished,” Jun declared after inspecting their work. “Some light please?” “Dancing Lights.” Both Gwen and Yue laid down some glowing lights that illuminated the area in six-meter increments. Yue’s were the warm glow of daylight, while Gwen’s had the cold quality of the electro-illumination used on public transports. “What’s for dinner?” Yue asked. “Got it covered,” Elvia began pulling out an assortment of instant noodles, as well as a stock pot. “Let's eat something yummy today before we have to hunt down Wildland game tomorrow.” “Could have taken that goanna actually,” Henley suggested. “Maybe it tastes alright?” Yue made a gagging noise. “I brought SPAM,” Gwen announced happily, producing a few cans of her favourite mystery meat. They made a controlled magical flame beneath the pot and heated a big batch of spicy noodles. Elvia had also brought a dozen plates and cups, fabricated by Transmuter manufactorums into lightweight, sturdy materials that reminded Gwen of durable plastic. “Alarm.” Jun laid down a perimeter spell that would set off an audible Ping! should any undesignated creatures penetrate its coverage. The group ate and washed up with some melted ice made by Jun. After a brief clean up, they rolled out their sleeping bags. Yue and Elvia could share a shelter as Elvia was tiny, and Yue was rather petite herself. Gwen could barely fit into the humpy she had made and realised she had to sleep by curling into a foetal position. The two boys slept separately. The group laid out a watch order before retiring for the night, thinking of the next six days of unknowable trials and dangers that awaited. A persistent Continual Flame kept the perimeter lit: it was still far too terrifying for the girls to sleep in the complete darkness of the Wildlands, without the comforting light pollution of the city to assure them that the Shield Barriers were operational. Yue and Elvia chatted in the humpy next door. Gwen herself was alone with her thoughts, thinking about Instructor Alesia, about her friends, about the Quest ahead, feeling her eyelids grow heavy as darkness fell.

Gwen and her companions were up at the first light, awoken by the Message which began to play on their devices. “Good morning students. Your first objective: proceed to Zeta as indicated on your map and return with the marker. Scores are rewarded for the number of encounters, the speed of progress and the number of kills. The maximum allowance for this task is Two Days. Good Hunting!” So the party's first task was a Purge, Gwen exhaled. It was the most common quest given to Mages by Frontier governing bodies. In places where the Wildlands overlap Human cities, Magical Beasts must be routinely exterminated to prevent the accumulation of mana that gave rise to bigger, stronger beasts. This was because neglect towards the self-perpetuating creatures of the Wildlands inevitably led to a Beast Wave; a tsunami of flesh, teeth and claw ranging from numberless swarmlings to Titan class monstrosities. After the WWII, Cryptozoologists determined that if a region was regularly ‘burnt off’, elemental mana, as well as tears into the Elemental Planes could be dispersed. Furthermore, the harvesting of Creature Cores, a resource for empowering human artifice, made frequent Purges a necessity of industry. In a resource-rich Frontier region like Sydney, specialist Hunter-Killer parties set out deep into the Wildlands, searching for rarer game. Closer to the cities, low ranking Mages engaged in large-scale canvasing of Green and Orange Zones. Before they set off, the party stowed excess gear in elevated shelters as it wasn't uncommon for creatures to be attracted to food and equipment left behind by human Adventurers. “Marching order.” Jun watched his teammates move into place. As the crow flies, Zeta was only half a day away. In reality, the terrain involved descending into a gorge to reach the opposite saddle. Still, the party was confident that they could retrieve the objective flag at Zeta and return to camp by nightfall. “Just like we practised,” Jun implored his companions. “Let's move out!” Gwen told herself to relax her pinched nerves. Sleeping in the humpy gave her insomnia, the insects kept her awake, and she had a sore back from sleeping on her side. I could kill for a latte, Gwen inwardly grumbled. If we could ambush a pack of double-shot flat-white, it would be perfect. The group's first encounter happened only half-an-hour later. “Stop. Twelve O`clock. Small. A dozen, give or take.” Christ! A dozen? A surge of adrenaline shook Gwen from her stupor. The group paused in its tracks, waiting for the oncoming of whatever Henley predicted to be ahead. Remaining in formation, the party hid behind cover, staying perfectly still, taking advantage of the thick Blue Gums. The foliage soon revealed, as anticipated, Goblinoids, or more precisely, Gobs, nasty little things born from rot and fungi, a half-formed, semi-sentient Goblinoid. This area of the Coastal Track was thick with motes of Earth and Water mana and thus, served as a hallowed breeding ground for these little creatures. That was the reason for the fire trail on which the team travelled; every so often, the Frontier Militia sent down kill-teams to ‘back burn’ the region. Even though Jun was standing no more than three metres from one of them, half his face visibly sweating, the Gobs appeared to ignore him, appearing preoccupied with baser instincts elsewhere. “…” The Abjurer made the gesture for AoE. “Barrage!” Yue incanted, and from above the creatures fell a shower of fiery death. “Ice Field!” Jun snuffed the last of Yue's fires, The others watched Elvia dig through the corpses for Creature Cores; their healer was trained in suturing and triage, and apparently, also in butchery. Their first official combat. Ten vicious little Gobs. Henley reported their body count back to base. Gwen studied the humanoid creatures, observing Elvia's work. Gobs were humanoid in shape but shared little in common with terrestrial animals of non-magical origin. Though their bodies possessed a skeleton, muscle fibres, as well as green ichor for blood, they had tiny brains more akin to jagged crystal than flesh. Gingerly, Elvia extracted a bulbous sack, sliced it open, then sighed as she poured shattered shards of the creature's Core. Gwen choked down a gulp of bile. Even in her old world, she never liked going to the butchers directly. She preferred buying meat that was prepackaged, or better yet, ready cooked. Elvia washed her hands using water from Yue’s canteen. Without a water Mage, the group opted to create ice in their metal canteens via Jun, then had Yue warm the metal containers. “Don't worry. Let's keep going.” The party's next encounter consisted of terrific little insects known as Stirges, dangerous bloodsucking things that lived deep in the gullies, emerging only to feed. “Incoming! Three O'Clock! Closest to Yue!” By the time Henley delivered his warning, the buzzing din was upon them. Jun immediately laid down his best Shield, a stacking array of three ice membranes which completely covered Yue, while leaving enough visibility for her to be still casting spells. As a brittle element, Ice functioned more effectively as reactive armour. The first Stirge struck the ice shield with the force of a spear fired from a ballista, piercing the first layer before hitting the second. The second and third flew around the shield array and tried to stab Yue with its serrated syringe. The detour, however, had slowed its movements enough for Yue to strike. "Flaming Hands!" A flash of fire smothered the left flank of their formation, blasting a Stirge from the air with a magnificent pyrotechnic display. Another Stirge slammed into Yue's Blast Shield, trigging the reactive surface, sending it skittering to one side. "Blast Bolt!" A quick lightning-charged missile snapped the third, tearing it limb from limb. Jun summoned another Ice Shield and crushed the first between the two layers. The second, which Yue had seared, flopped about before finally succumbing to the heat, cooked in its carapace. With the adrenaline of the moment dying with the embers, Gwen surveyed her party for injury. Shockingly, a scrabbling claw had swiped Yue's shoulder, causing her to bleed profusely. “Yue!” Gwen took her friend by the arm. "Oh my God! Are you alright?" “It's fine," Yue winced. "One of its forelegs must have nicked me when it did the fly-by.” “I got this, don’t worry.” Elvia used the canteen to flush the wound of contaminants. Gwen flinched as though she was the one with the flesh wound. “Healing Word!” The Party watched as Yue's flesh wound mended. Such was the boon of having a healer on the team. Without Elvia, they would have had to stop for first aid. Had the wound been worse, perhaps retreat to the base camp and calling it a day. As Yue recovered, Elvia dissected the insects. The bugs were better fleshed out, with a full complement of what Gwen expected in a drone-sized vermin. “Giant mosquitos,” Yue whistled, giving her arm a stretch. One’s muscles always ached and throbbed after a healing spell. “What Challenge Rating are those things?” “Tier 2, about as bad as it gets here.” The group regarded the long, gangly limbs of the disgusting mosquito things. The serrated barbs had unseamed Yue's flesh like a keen knife. “Keep going,” Yue urged. The group found themselves roving through packs of Gobs for the next three hours, though the unarmed creatures proved little to no challenge. Discovered or otherwise, the critters plod and plough towards them like lemmings, heedless of the barrages laid down by Yue and Gwen. “Where are they all going?” Yue asked no one in particular, “I think we just hit a century after the last pack.” Gwen shrugged. Who knew what mysteries the Wildland held? Maybe a mass migration? Breeding season? Did these things even follow the laws of nature? “How far is Zeta from us now?” “About half-an-hour.” “One sec,” Yue asked for the group to halt. “I am all clammy.” Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Out of the five in the group, it was Yue who had the worst stamina. Jun was already carrying some of Yue’s food packs. The Fire Mage peeled off her jacket and tied it around her waist. Feeling flushed, Gwen likewise packed her windbreaker. “Shush,” Henley interjected suddenly. “I sense incoming.” The group fanned out, crouching to lower the visibility of their profiles. “Medium mass, Five O Clock, Fire at wi-” In the next moment, a grey blur blasted past Jun, who had been taking point while Yue was changing. “Shit! SHIELD!” Henley shouted. There was insufficient time to react, and so Jun constructed three semi-sphere shields in front of Yue, Gwen and Elvia. Their assailant, however, had no interest in the girls. Instead, it made a beeline for the being that had detected it - the Diviner. A silhouette the size of a motorcycle balled into Henley, instantly shattering his feeble mana shield and pushing all the air from his lungs. His world spun, his ribs cracked, and he flew. The other four watched their friend launch into the air like a cannonball, his flailing form performing several pirouettes before tumbling down like a rag doll. The grey blur stopped in its tracts, revealing itself to be a wolf-like creature with bristles like porcupines. Its muscular limbs dug deeply into the turf, hinting at its speed and power. “Henley!” Jun cursed. “Darragh!” Henley hollered back. He was alive; the party collectively exhaled. “What’s the game plan?” “I’ll slow it; you smite it.” Jun spat, weaving his hands through the air. “Ray of Frost!” Jun opted for his most basic and near instant Cantrip. The Ray dealt little damage but had the additional quality of chilling enemies' movements. The spell struck, snagging the wolf with an invisible ball and chain of ice and soil. A meter away from Gwen, the creature fell short of its target, landing as a snarling whirlwind of tooth and nail. “Shocking Grasp!” Gwen incanted the first spell that came mind. An arc of lightning leapt from her fingertips, striking the creature full in the torso, ravaging its body before grounding itself. The wolf howled, half-numb with paralytic electricity. It attempted another dash at Gwen, but a blast of fire intercepted it mid-leap. “Burning Hands!” Under Alesia, Yue had refined her control. The edge of her flame barely kissed their companions as her target burned. "Blast Bolt!" By the time both fire and lightning had ceased, the wolf was well-done. Jun remained wary while Elvia rushed towards Henley. “Healing Word!” Elvia ran a hand under the Diviner's shirt to ensure his chest wasn't punctured. “Can you speak?” “Yeah… yep, I am still alive.” “Can you breathe?” “Yeah, it hurts though, my ribs, I think it’s broken.” “Aright, don't worry.” With the other three standing guards, Elvia cut open Henley’s shirt and gingerly felt for his displaced rib, finding the protrusion that was out of place. “This is going to … itch.” Elvia warned. Henley tried to smile; his face already beaded with sweat. “Heal Minor Wounds!” "Lesser Restoration!" The higher tier healing spells coursed through Henley. The Diviner writhed; the mending of bone was an itch that couldn't be scratched. “Gwen! Hold him down!” Gwen held the shaking Henley by the wrists. Henley alternated between laughing and moaning. When the spells finally ran their course, the party watched a sweat-drenched Henley rise on one shoulder, bare-chested and covered the forest’s fallen foliage. “You alright?” “Don’t… don’t do that again, let me die next time…” “Is that supposed to happen?” Gwen and Yue both questioned Elvia, who nodded. “Normally, we sedate the patient, but I'm not qualified to administer anaesthesia…” She responded with an expression of adorable innocence. 'Ding!' 'Ding!' 'Ding!' Their devices began to buzz. A Message spell bloomed beside their ear. “ Group Seven, are you alright? Do you need assistance?” “No Sir. We have resolved the problem,” Yue informed Sergeant Boone. “Is Henley alright? His transponder triggered.” “I am FINE SIR,” Henley shouted into his unit. “Alright, give me a quick sit-rep.” They told Boones about the creature they encountered. “Wind Wolves, they usually don’t range this far up the coast,” Boone sounded troubled. “I’ll inform the other groups. You have permission to abort.” The party pondered the risk and rewards. That wolf was tier 3, but they had come this far, why not finish the rest? “We’ll continue Sir.” “There's no penalty for quitting if you encounter an abnormality.” “Henley here, Sir. I am confident we can finish the objective and return by nightfall. I wish to continue.” “Us as well.” The group assured the instructor. “Alright, permission granted,” Boone affirmed their decision. “Be cautious and contact me if you encounter Soldier tier critters. Remember, this is only a test. Don't risk your lives needlessly.” The Message spell lost its glow. “Thanks, H.P.” Jun pulled his friend up, Henley's shirt was still in shreds. “Got a spare?” Henley asked his friend. “Use mine, I think we’re the same size,” Gwen offered Henley her school jacket, which the young man warmly accepted. Elvia probed the carcass of the wolf-thing and came up with a few shattered pieces of something that resembled a fragmented, thumb-sized marble. 'Snap!' The Core cracked. Whatever it held dissipated into the air. “Shame,” Jun remarked. “Thought we had something there.” As the rest of the group meandered away, Gwen observed a warm glow occurring close to her bosom. She could sense, through the resonance of mana within her body, a flow of something indescribable. She placed her hand on her collarbone and found the familiar shape of a pendant she had forgotten entirely. The Kirin amulet! She caressed its smooth surface. The jade chimaera that father gave her when she awakened - What was it doing? Catching up to the rear of her party, she unbuttoned her collar and looked downward, seeing the jade illuminated with an inner lustre. Curious, Gwen attempted to identify the mana it was infusing to no avail. In front, Yue observed Gwen peeping under her shirt, seemingly fascinated by what she saw, her face full of bewilderment. Did her chest grow? Bra too tight? Yue wondered. Why else would she be so smitten? “Gwen, is this the time for that kind of introspection?” Yue enquired mirthfully. “Sorry,” Gwen replied, smoothing her collar and patting down her shirt. "Let's go!" The party progressed more carefully now, taking every step with caution. They encountered yet more mobs of Gobs, ultimately a pair of Goblins, but nothing like that of the Wind-wolf. Watching Elvia dissect the Goblins was an eye-opener, as they seemed to possess the same viscera one would expectantly find inside a human being. Likewise, the creatures demonstrated emotive expressions as they died, squealing and screaming. The sight of Elvia as she ferreted the chest cavity for the Core turned Gwen’s stomach. Ultimately, the group arrived at Zeta an hour later than expected, and collected the flag that an instructor had planted prior. “We made it! Good work, everyone. Lunch and rest, twenty minutes.” They each produced the dry rations prepared by the school, swelling when hot water was added to became beefy gloop. For thirst, they drank purified water melted from Jun’s icicles, restoring their mana reserves. “Jun, how is it that other groups without healers could make it this far?” “Luck, mostly. When I was here last year, we didn’t see anything beyond a few Giant Slugs, Gobs, a few lone Goblins, and some of the local fauna that had become semi-magical. Tier 1.5 would be my estimate.” “Why do you think we keep seeing these other creatures?” “Wished I knew.” Jun gulped his gloop. “I hope the other groups are alright.” “They must be.” Elvia blinked. “Else we would receive a warning message to look out for dangerous beasts, right?” “Just our luck then?” Henley snorted. “Could be we're in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Yue appended Henley's hypothesis. The group studied at the gully below from the vantage offered by Point Zeta. Had something changed? Why was a creature magnitudes more potent than the cannon fodder of the Green Zone so close to their training area? In the distance, they watched a flock of birds take flight. “Grey Ibis,” Jun observed. “Scavengers, the biggest ones have wingspans up to four metres.” The birds were ugly close up, but from a distance, the scenery had the quality of a Namatjira watercolour. The journey back to base camp was uneventful as the group followed the path from which they came. After the dangerous run-in with the Wind Wolf, they had agreed to take a more conservative approach lest another unanticipated encounter placed them in greater danger. The team made better progress than anticipated, reaching the camp just as the light was fading. As they came into the semi-clearing, however, they knew they were no longer alone. Even a hundred metres from their camp, they could see the telltale signs of invasion. “I’ll lead.” Jun intoned. “Wedge formation, Gwen and Yue on the left-right flank.” Elvia and Henley moved closer to the middle. Jun readied his Shield Stack. “Huge, Eleven O Clock.” Henley said with a quivering voice, “We should contact basecamp, its-” They heard the creature before they saw it, caught flatfooted as an absurd mass exploded through the trunk of a half rotten Blue Gum, splintering and scattering chunks of wood as it charged. The creature that bored down on them unprovoked resembled a rhinoceros without a horn; its feet were turned inward, like that of a wombat, giving it two nasty looking talons akin to a gargantuan pigeon toe. Sinuous muscles like steel cables roped its way around its broad, muscular back, which was thick with silvery-black hair that bristled as it moved. Its beady eyes were bloodshot and spoke of madness. "Guuuarrk!!" The thing barked, a half-grunt, half-roaring hoot that sent spittle flinging every which way. Its maw opened to revealed yellowing rows of canines that left absolutely no doubt as to its preferred diet. “Fortification Shield!” Unlike his usual shields that formed in mid-air, Jun incanted the most stalwart shielding he had in his arsenal. Three buffers in the form of crystalline ice shards dug deep into the earth, forming a wedged barrier. “GET READY!” Jun shouted. “EVERYTHING YOU GOT.” “Bless!” “True Strike!” “Bane!” The creature struck. Its skull must have acted as a battering ram, for Jun watched with disbelief as his best Shield singularly shattered. “Stacking Shield!” He shouted, but the barreling creature was too bulky and too fast. Three additional layers of ice shattered like rice paper, and all Jun could do was to redirected its trajectory as not to strike him head-on. Before the others could react, the thing was barreling past Jun, throwing him aside. Shit! Gwen’s mind screamed. It’s now or never! “Barrage!” “Guiding Bolt!” Yue’s barrage struck the beast, sending it askew. Her flames, however, had no significant effect, cascading off its hide in flaming sheets. Shit, the thing may have Fire as a base element. Yue realised in a panic. Gwen had better pick up the slack! Gwen's signature spell quickly followed her bolt. “Blast Bolt!” She channelled as much mana as she could muster into her sure-kill spell, feeling her reserves drop from full to exhaustion in a single cast. Almost two dozen arcs of lighting erupted across the giant-wombat, grounding below, generating enough heat and energy to turn the sandy soil beneath into shards of silica. The thing slumped and began to slide from its remaining momentum, stopping only half a meter in front of Elvia and Henley. "Is it dead?" Elvia trembled. What the fuck was that? They wanted to scream. That’s not supposed to be in the green zone! The creature was built like a ute mated with a brick shit-house and could have easily broken through the attacks and shields of lesser Mages. There was something seriously wrong with the intelligence of the region the school had received. This creature was most certainly a Soldier class, at least tier 4. “I found him!” Elvia cried, and with Henley’s help gingerly retrieved Jun from the bushes. “My arm…” Jun groaned. They could see that his left arm was turned oddly in an impossible direction. “I’ll call basecamp,” Gwen said, seeing that Yue was beside herself with worry. “Elvia, do your thing.” “This is going to itch…” Elvia told Jun apologetical before she began to incant her healing spells. Jun’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Sir! We ran into a huge creature just now! It was at least a Soldier Class!” Gwen reported. “Request returning to basecamp!” “Granted, return as soon as you can, Group Seven, we are getting reports from all over that there are higher level creatures in the region. What is your status? Do you need an escort?” “We’ll be fine sir, please prioritise the other groups.” “Acknowledged. Be safe and make haste!” Jun recovered his senses once Henley gave him a few slaps on the cheeks. “Forget the stuff at our camp, we need to get back to basecamp now!” he declared. “Shall I recover the stone, Gwen?” Elvia asked. The gathering looked at the smoking carcass of the gigantic beast. It would take at least an hour to dig through that thing, and they had no way of moving it. “Screw it,” Gwen took over command. “Let's move.” Just as she gave the order, another warm glow infused her chest. Whatever, no time for mystery, Gwen thought as she drove the pendant from her mind. They needed to go before another one of those damn things showed up. “Bless!” Elvia placed another buff on the group, relieving their fatigue. The group moved out, hoping to hell there would be no more encounters.

Edgar's real name wasn't Edgar of course; it was an alias that he liked. When Edgar was a boy, his father had forbidden him to watch any of the plebeian Vid-shows, but Edgar was far too slippery for his idiotic NoM housekeepers and his multiple nannies. When he finally did manage to catch a Vid-cast in the break room of the manor, the hero who blasted apart a hydra's nest was called Edgar. It was such a masculine name, rolling off the tongue with its pedantic, near-silent E, followed by the full, syllabic luxury of that long GAR. Far more thrilling to the ear than his own. “Edgar. Come See,” Faceless called from above. The shapeshifter was his partner and temporary companion, Faceless, or John Citizen, as Edgar liked to think of him; was nobody and everybody. “Flight.” A swirly of grey dust blew from Edgar’s feet as his body grew light, propelling himself from the bottom of the pit towards the ledge whereby Faceless stood in that ubiquitous, illusory cowl their organisation always made the members wear. “What is it?” “Scryed Visions from Sector Four," Faceless replied, his pitch both high and low as he spoke. His genderless companion then produced a Magic Item from underneath his cowl. “Scrying Pool.” A sprout of water appeared before them, forming into a mirror-like pane. The vision was hazy, for the spell worked best when one knew the target of the invocation more intimately. From the semi-transparent surface of the pool of water, the duo saw what appeared to be high school students going on a field trip. The image shifted here and there, showing a few groups moving across the lower sector of the Uloola fire trail. “Kids… Acolytes?” Edgar rubbed his chin. The constant glamour of the cowl made his beard itch. “Any good ones?” Faceless's illusory mien became a smug looking middle-aged man licking his chops as if before a great feast. Edgar observed the goosebumps rising and falling on his skin. The shapeshifter's ability was a hellish sight to behold. One of the Others once said that Faceless consumed the souls of those whose shape he took. The scrying pool dissolved to reform elsewhere. Another image appeared this time clearer, indicating that Faceless had been following this group for some time. They watched a group of young Mages making their way through the fire trail, expertly picking off the critters generated from the leylines of the Wildlands. The leading girl, a spirited looking Asian girl, was throwing unstable Firebolts all over the joint. “Ooo very nice, Faceless!” Edgar applauded. “And that chest! She would fetch a pretty good price for sure.” “Wait.” The scene changed again, and this time the group was facing off against a gigantic Diprotodon, a formidable enemy that would make even Edgar break a sweat. They watched it crush the Shields conjured by the Ice Abjurer, swatting the youth aside as the final barrier shattered. As a creature aligned with Fire, the beast had remarkable resistance to heat, and so ignored the blasts that were gouging chunks of fur from its flank. Then, a jolt of purple lightning materialised from the air, striking the creature square in the face before escalating into a storm of blue-white electricity that smothered the hulking mass until smoke began to pour from its nose and mouth. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. “Nice catch, number two!” Edgar’s voice raised an extra octave. The dust around him swirled and spun to form small vortexes that flowed out uncontrollably here and there, carving channels in the stone. “Such a beautiful face as well, they told me this place was an uninhabited shithole! But it's turned out to be a crystal mine!” “Wait…” “No…” Edgar’s face cowl was bobbing up and down with glee, “You telling me there's MORE than meets the Scry?” The final pool that formed showed the ice Mage being picked from the floor by the others. The kid looked like he had broken his arm, but in the next moment, a little blonde girl kelt and cast an assortment of healing and blessing spells. In the next minute, the injured mage stood by the strength of his very own self and gave his arm a good stretch while the other appeared to be making calls and pulling up camp. “A Healer!” Edgar blurted out. “We’ve hit the lottery! Clerics are rare as shit here in the Frontier! You know I love myself a good Cleric, their mana is very fortifying, and their bodies can withstand punishment like nobody else.” Faceless' illusory mien turned to that of a wicked grin, the yellow teeth covering the area under his cowl. “Three girls…” Edgar considered his options, “They look to be about tier 2… The Fire one would probably sell pretty quickly, the Lightning one’s a real looker, so maybe keep her around for a while longer. The healer, that’s the real bank right there, old man.” “Wait…” “No! No way!” Edgar was beside himself. “What is this? Did Lilith's lose a bus in the woods or something, you mean to tell me there are more?” “This One. Now.” Faceless waved a hand. The final scrying pool displayed what appeared to be a base camp with a few concrete buildings. The duo had seen them before but had not known it had became occupied in the weeks since they began their operation. They watched a few instructor-looking Mages going about their rounds disinterestedly when suddenly, the spell became drawn to a woman in a bright red racing suit. The scrying pool was unusually focused, denoting that the caster, Faceless, knew her already. The vision followed her as she moved into the compound, where she suddenly stopped. Unexpectedly, she turned, giving them a glimpse of a strikingly beautiful face, before a blast of scarlet flame seemed to wipe out the divination window, dispelling it entirely in a hiss of steam. Edgar stumbled back at the moment of impact, almost falling over the ledge before his still-activated Flight spell caught him. “Christ!” He cried out loudly. “What the fuck, Faceless! That was the Scarlet Flame! The fucking Crimson Goddess herself! What the fuck are you doing scrying her?” A frightened female face appeared before the Faceless man’s cowl, before turning into one of cruel cunning. “She Suspects,” Faceless replied. “She Does Not Know.” “You certain?” “Yes.” “Totally-absolutely-certain?” “Yes.” “Well, we better get a fucking move on then.” The two of them looked below, where the charmed Neophytes were laying out the final parts of the puzzle. Around the central dais of what seemed to be an excavated cavern, was a man-sized, egg-like artefact cordoned off by layer upon layers of scrolls that formed a pentagram-like sigil around its exterior. Two dozen or so of the ‘apprentices’ were still busy bloodletting, making precise incisions into their hands and wrists, and using the blood to inscribe the last touches of the Arcane Cauldron. They had euphoric expressions that juxtaposed oddly with the state of their wane bodies. The sun was now striking the horizon, sending a mauve light over the dusky bushland. “Think it’s possible to nail the Scarlet Bitch?” “Not Impossible,” Faceless seemed to ponder proposal, his face changing to that of the thinking man, before turning into a toothy grin. “Ambush. You And Me. She and I. Grudge.” “Get the girls first.” Edgar licked his lips. “I am short on funds and favours.” “Distractions,” Faceless intoned, his scowling face becoming one of displeasure. “3:7 my way, and I’ll take point on the Scarlet Bitch.” “…” The cowl changed to a celebratory expression. “Agreed. But Her Face. Mine. If We Succeed. Must repay her brother-in-craft, the esteemed Paladin Shultz.” “Sure thing.” Edgar shrugged, he liked his friend, but the gent had sick tastes. If it was true that he ate souls, then the Transmuter was a Necromancer to boot. Nobody wanted to associate with that. They looked down below into the pit once more, where yet another ‘apprentice’ collapsed from blood loss and exhaustion. The night is nigh, and they could hardly wait.

“Lady De Botton! You are finally here!” Boone’s eyes were aglow with admiration. Alesia stepped off her blazing red Ducati with shaking legs. She had thought that the ride from the Shield Fort 47 toward the camp would be one of those iconic drives with long winding roads and graceful curves. Instead, after half an hour of crushed stone, she was left with sore buttocks crying out for a Healing Word. Chipped the bike too, Alesia silently moped. “We’ve got trouble, Ma’am.” Boone waited until Alesia inspected her bike. Alesia followed Boone into the main building, a rundown, two-tier concrete rectangle, noting the Augur-Map laid out on a dinner table. A few other Instructors were likewise present, bickering about an evacuation. “What’s happening?” she demanded, watching as the Instructors turning to face her. Their voices fell silent at once, some more willingly than others. “Gwen’s group ran into a CR 4 Soldier class Beast,” Boone informed Alesia. “The kids did good, they took care of it, and are on their way back now.” Alesia nodded, she was confident in Gwen’s group. “Anyone injured?” “Jun, but he’s healed.” “Anyone else?” “Just before you arrived, Debora’s group said they ran into a huge swarm of Snotlings, a good hundred or so of them. They managed to push through, and are on their way back as well.” “How about the others?” “All accounted for, except group 02,” Boone answered anxiously. He pointed to a pin on the map. “They are not responding to hails, but their Augur devices didn’t show any vitality loss either. We were debating to see if we should send someone to check up on them.” “That’s probably a good idea. What’s the problem?” “Instructor Crusoe doesn’t want to,” one of the instructors stated. Alesia turned to look at this ‘Crusoe’ asshole with her penetrating blue eyes. Crusoe’s face blanched a pale yellow. “I never said that. I’ll be going then…” Crusoe quickly replied, leaving the room as if in a great hurry. Outside, they heard him incant the Flight spell and take to the air. “Why didn’t he want to go earlier?” Alesia asked. “PTSD…” Another instructor remarked with a critical tone, flashing her a disagreeable glance. “But it seems our War Hero managed to make him overcome years of trauma.” Alesia felt her face flush. She was always too quick to judge; her Master had expressly said so. A commotion could be heard outside the building. "That must be Gwen's group," Boone noted. “I’ll be back,” Alesia stated inelegantly, leaving her peers and their none too friendly gazes. Out in the clearing, Alesia watched the group stumble into camp. Their clothes were torn, and a little ragged. Henley was helping Jun. The three girls brought up the rear, with Elvia in the middle. Good girls! Alesia felt a tingling touch of pride. “You guys alright?” she hollered toward her students before walking towards them. The girls were initially wary of a woman clad in all red racing leather until Gwen realised her saviour had arrived. “Instructor!” The party ran to their teacher. Alesia hugged them each in turn. The girls' hair smelled like the bush with its fallen eucalyptus, mixed with the odour of elemental viscera. "So, what happened?" The students began to recount their experiences all at once, speaking over one another to tell Alesia about how they had survived a day in the Wildlands. Alesia asked for details, then assuaged their fears and worries. She then took them to the concrete bunker where hot food and tea had been prepared and told them to await the return of their peers. Relieved that Gwen and company were safe, Alesia decided to take a walk around the perimeter. There was a strange feeling that had been bothering her since they had arrived, like in those dodgy establishments where ‘the walls have eyes’. Her paranoia seemed to grow as she patrolled until finally, she felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. I am being Scryed! Alesia noted annoyingly. She didn’t like that at all. “Flame Nova!” A ring of fire blew out from her as she turned, singing everything within five-odd meters. Instantly, her paranoia ceased. Was it one of the instructors? She wondered. She wouldn't have put it past them. Not far, there was another commotion. Alesia watched as another group arrived. The second to reach the camp was Debora’s group. Two of the Transmuters looked to have sustained minor injuries, limping and holding onto one another. The Illusionist followed at a brisk pace, unharmed, their Enchanter following behind. Debora herself came into the clearing like a Mage-Knight, resplendent in her Bronze Skin, tall and proud and full of poise. “Ma’am!” they greeted her. "Group 3, I am glad to see you're all safe." Alesia directed them towards the direction of the communal bunker for tea and supper. In the dim light, Alesia could see that Debora was as tall as Gwen. From what she knew, the two groups had a little rivalry going. She liked that. Rivalries made children grow, especially among those with drive and talent. “Is… Yue and Gwen alright?” Debora asked, the Bronze Skin fading from her. Without the distinct texture, Alesia could see that Debora was covered with bruises, her face, her arms, her collarbones, all of it possessed by green and purple splotches. “They’re fine; they should be inside, having a bite. I am sure they would be glad to see you.” Alesia gave the girl a reassuring smile. Debora blushed. The rest of the groups arrived in twos and threes until the whole cohort could be accounted. Crusoe had returned with the last group, who were tied up dealing with a swarm of relatively harmless Fern Slugs. They had become fast-stuck after the hive had passed, incidentally walking into the adhesive trails left behind by the creatures. As no one was harmed, the worry turned to a humorous affair. The kids were told to take a shower and get changed. With the students safe and sound, the instructors met to discuss the likelihood of an evacuation. “I am telling you, tonight is impossible, the Coaches don’t operate at night, meaning we’re going to be hiking in the dark for five hours. That’s FAR more dangerous than waiting it out here, in CONCRETE fortifications!” If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. “No!” Crusoe seemed adamant, “We have to go. I saw what was happening when I flew over the Burning Palms, the beasts are on the move, and they are moving AWAY from something.” “This is the Green Zone, Crusoe, what can it be?” “A Beast Migration,” Crusoe declared ominously. “This is the beginning of a Beast Wave, I know it, I recognise the signs. I am telling you we need to go.” “Just like that?” Another Instructor retorted annoyedly, “I know you’re a survivor of the 88’ Migration, Crusoe, but not every phenomenon is a calamity.” Crusoe fell silent; his face ashen. “Richardson! That’s going too far.” A third instructor interjected, “Sorry, Crusoe.” “We have to go…” Crusoe replied weakly. “I understand your fears.” Boone tossed in his two cents. “But there are no signs. No quake activity, no atmospheric phenomenon.” “I feel it in my bones…” Crusoe seemed on the verge of asphyxiation. He tried to retort, but couldn't catch his breath. Watching their terrified colleague, the rest of the instructors fell silent. “I… I need a moment.” His eyes met Alesia’s for a moment, and she felt a pang of guilt. Oh God, it's not me - is it? Ah, shit! She probably shouldn’t have triggered him earlier. “I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Alesia announced to the table. “My two cents is staying here, because… you know - I am here.” “Of course, Lady De Botton.” Boone felt like he should be saluting, but stopped himself at the last minute. She was no longer a part of the military. Boone returned to the room with a look of smug confidence. Well, of course, they'll be fine holing up here. Boone acknowledged, realising the stupidity of their debate. If need be, the Crimson Sorceress could take out half the zone in a blazing firestorm. Outside, Alesia found Crusoe walking towards the edge of the clearing, away from the main building. Where is he going? She pondered, sensing an unexpected paranoia, Jesus, he’s not going to skip out on us and make a run for it, is he? “Mister Crusoe!” she called, out, but he kept on walking, “Oi! Instructor Crusoe!” Shit, just my luck, triggering the PTSD of some civilian Mage, Alesia groaned inwardly. She quickened her pace, following Crusoe out of the clearing and onto the start of a fire trail. It was dark by now; a pale moon illuminated the Blue Gums under the light of a waxing moon. Though she had lost sight of him for a moment, Alesia found him not too deeply in, hunched over by a tree and rolling his shoulders forlornly. Jesus, is he- CRYING? Alesia swore. Bloody hell! She rolled her eyes. Its time to turn on some of that charm and empathy Master always advised. Alesia approached Crusoe loudly as not to startle him, wondering how she should break the ice. Gingerly, she readied a smile, then patted him on the shoulder. “I am sorry Crusoe…” She began. “!” “!” “!” A silent clamour of hyper-dense Mana filled the air the moment her fingers touched the sobbing instructor. Before Alesia could react, her world lost all light. All light disappeared - cold sinews wrapped around her legs, her waist, and her arms, wrought of an indiscernible element. Dark Tentacle or Stygian Grasp? Alesia's mind raced. Dust or Ooze? "!" Another spell activated - incanted silently and out of sight. A feeling of cold invasion penetrated Alesia's abdomen. Shit! Her mind grew hot with agony, all thoughts banished by the object crushing her innards. She knew now there was no holding back and that this was life or death. “Blade Barrier!” Alesia completed the spell between clenched teeth. A ring of flaming blades materialised around her, indiscriminately destroying all within range. She willed them to expand instantly and felt a satisfying 'thunk!' engender in the darkness, the self-evident sound of a blade biting into flesh. Whatever had pierced her stomach also ceased to be, cut off by the Blade Barrier. Now she had to heal herself; a gut injury was no joke, and she could go into shock at any moment. Alesia willed a mote of activation mana to reach a ring on her index finger, where a gem shattered, filling the void around her with the blue-silver spatial mana of Conjuration. In the next second, she was out of the darkness, having escaped the ambush by activating a contingency Dimension Door. As Alesia's vision returned, her Blade Barrier continued to expand, annihilating everything within a range of six diameters of the epicentre. Nothing survived, not trees, not bushes, not even bits of rock now sliced into molten silica. She willed another mote of mana to reach yet another ring, suffusing her body with the healing power of a Cure Serious Wounds. This fucking ordeal just burned about three hundred HDMs! Alesia's anger blazed as brightly as the destructive flames of the Blade Barrier. As an Evoker-Transmuter, she was neither capable of casting Dimension door nor Cure Wounds; both were contingency items she had earned through Questing. Now they were gone, and she would have to replace them, as well as face the criticism of her Master. “Shit. I don’t think she is in here anymore,” a voice called out for the darkness, seemingly unfazed by Alesia's Blade Barrier. “Idiot,” Another voice that sounded genderless stated with a tone of annoyance. Alesia watched the darkness dispel to reveal two men in cowls, one taller than the other. “Ola Señorita!” The tall one, who had been Instructor Crusoe, called out to her in a lewd manner. “Oh-ho! Scarlet Sorceress! I would DIE for one night between your sweet thighs!” The other one Alesia knew. They were old friends after all. The Faceless Man, the bastard responsible for the Massacre at Rhodes, the prime suspect of the Kingsford Kidnappings. She had been hunting the fiend across half of Australia, to New Zealand and back. What the fuck is he doing here? Her mind was spinning with possibilities, though Alesia was sure of one thing. She was going to end these pricks right here. “Haste!” “Gaseous Form!” Alesia felt her body quicken. Simultaneously, her physical form turned gaseous, becoming a flaming cloud in the shape of a woman. “Oh shit!” The taller man cried out, then made to cast something at her. Silent Spells! Alesia's heart palpitated. She was up against skilled opponents. It was time to go big or go home. “Maelstrom!” A spiral of fire fell from the heavens, materialising from the aether and striking the ground where her opponents stood. A flaming tornado ripped through the immediate area, obliterating every standing tree and object within a radius of over twenty meters. She watched as their bodies cease to exist, sensing the pulverisation of a single target. Alesia willed the flames to part momentarily and saw not a pair of charred and burning bodies, but one. From what remained of the clothing and the frame of the charring, partially minced carcass, she knew it to be Instructor Crusoe. FUCK! She cursed. Faceless was an Illusionist as well? Or was it the other Mage? “!” Her Crimson Caracal instructed her to dodge before her mind even registered the incoming attack spell. Spirits were far more sensitive to mana-fluctuations, and a great boon of possessing a sentient Spirit involved having two consciousnesses operating in parallel. A spear of darkness, the Signature Spell of the Faceless Man, pierced Alesia’s gaseous form, displacing a few motes of her Astral Body. That’s going to hurt later - a lot, Alesia grimaced before reorientated herself. She saw his arms move yet again, but this time she was ready. Alesia completed the tier 6 spell in an instant, then pointed a finger at her aberrant foe. “Disintegrate!” A scarlet beam, as thick and intense as the concentrated rays of a hundred midday suns, instantly blasted through the form of the Faceless Man. The hit registered, affirmed by her spirit pouring it’s own spiritual power into the beam, magnifying its heat by several magnitudes. When the spell ceased, Alesia expected to see nought but a pile of dust. Instead, she saw the tattered robes of the creature float away. Beneath it was thousands of stricken carcasses consisting of vermin, some alive, other seared and medium rare. “Coward!” Alesia cursed, “Where did that fucker go…” The earth tremored. She saw something shifting in the distance, something too vast to be comprehensible: for the landscape itself begun to churn. What the fuck is that?! Alesia felt every muscle in her body tense; her Flame Spirit was shrieking in alarm within her astral soul. The silhouette moved again, and this time, Alesia saw the shadow of a mountain shifting against the moonlight. No. Not shifting, she noted. It was coiling, slithering, meandering, moving with the surety of tectonic movement. A sliver of luminescence refracted from a moving ridge, blasting the landscape with a splendiferous hue. The ground below her was shaking now, shivering as if terrified of what's to come. Alesia gritted her teeth and dispelled the Transmutation transformation. Where she'd been wounded once before, her body re-materialised a flap of gouged flesh that directly assailed her torso. The pain was excruciating, causing her to cry out. "FUCK!" She extended her hand, and from her Storage Ring, Alesia produced a ruby-red injector which she then slammed into her wound. “Nnnngh!” She grunted; her damaged-tissues regenerated, accompanied by an unbearable itch. The thing in the distance was moving now; moving towards her and toward the camp. Gwen! Yue! Elvia! Alesia's mind was racing at a hundred miles a second. What the fuck was Faceless doing here? Who was the man that was with them? Why aim for a group of students from a Rank-less government school? The land rumbled; the time for thinking was over. As her Master's pupil, it was her responsibility to protect the innocent and defeat threats from the Wildlands. Her red racing suit burst into flames, falling off her battered body, revealing her athletic figure to the night. In a split second, a crimson sheet of flames flowed across her bare skin until she became a goddess adorned by crimson fire. “Flight!” She incanted and took to the air like a celestial vision. In the distance, a monstrosity slouched forward ponderously, crushing the bushland, making for the camp, making eventually, for the city. “Message.” Alesia activated her elementally attuned Message Device, protected from her fire. “Shit! Alesia! There you are!” A male voice, deep and baritone, answered beside her ear, “What the fuck is happening out there? The city’s just gone into Red Alert!” “I need the team here within the hour, take the Teleportation Gate at Shield Wall station 47.” Alesia said calmly, “I am observing a MYTHIC, I repeat, a MYTHIC incursion at the Royal National.” “Alright, can you hold out? We’re teleporting towards your location,” the voice replied, alarmed but collected. “Just get here soon,” Alesia reiterated solemnly. “Can you hold out? Are you able to retreat?” “Get here as soon as possible,” Alesia repeated once more. “Or bring a casket.”

The serene fragrance of the Earl Grey in Gwen's hands unravel the knot possessing both her body and mind. Instructor Alesia was here now, and all would be well. Beside her, Yue toasted a sandwich, while Elvia absently dangled her legs over the edge of a tall stool. The door to the bunker opened with a groan. Gwen saw the familiar figure of Debora push past the heavy door. “Hey, guys.” To Gwen’s surprise, Debora’s usual coldness became instead one of touching relief. She then noticed the injuries covering Debora’s arms, including a purple blotch that extended from her chin to her ear. “Deb! My God! You’re hurt!” Gwen set down her cup of tea and moved towards her friend and rival. “Elvia! Give us a hand!” “Thank God, you’re all safe...” Debora smiled, wincing as she did so. “Healing Word!” Elvia incanted, placing a hand over Debora’s neck and shoulder. Positive energy suffused the Transmuter for a moment, casting a pale green glow as her bruises eased, becoming faint imprints. “Thank you.” Debora exhaled appreciatively before turning to Yue. “It sure is handy having a healer on the team, hey?” “Hmmph!” Yue breathed out from her nostrils. She had loathed Debora since day one. The surfie girl was typical of those living in the South Shire, always looking down on migrants. “So…” Debora sat beside them, crossing her tanned legs. “We had about… oh ~ a hundred and thirty kills today.” Her eyes met Yue’s, and Gwen caught a spark sizzling between them. “That’s very impressive,” Gwen concurred. "I’d say we're at a century, tops.” “Oh?” Debora immediately flashed her teeth. “I don’t know about that…” Yue retorted with a smile of her own. “Sure, we ran short of Gobs, but we also had… oh, a tier 3 Wind Wolf, and then a - what was it? A tier 4 Wombat.” “A… Wombat?” “Yeah,” Yue replied uncertainly, realising her lack of panache. “A… combat wombat?” Debora smirked. Yue's face grew red. “Henley!” She summoned her second. The Diviner materialised as if by magic. He had been listening to their conversation in the background, amusing himself with the girls' rivalry. “Do that thing that you do,” Yue commanded. “Yes, Ma’am!” Henley turned to Debora with a twinkle in his eye. “Tis was a terrible and dreadful beast!” He began as Elvia began to chuckle. “Stay a while Debora, O traveller from another team, and listen to the tale of the epic battle that unfolded the moment Team Seven returned to our base camp…” Henley was a good storyteller. The breakroom burst into hearty laughter, chuckling with delight as Henley retold the tale with outlandish exaggerations. Despite all that had happened, the accommodating atmosphere was a good lubricant to ease the friction of their disastrous trip. "Gwen killed it, by herself?!" Debora blinked her eyes at Gwen. Gwen returned a coy and modest grin. Debbie... Gwen recollected. In the past, she had cut off all contact. Later in life, when the night was still, the shallow philosophy of shower thoughts took over. There was always the occasional fantasy of a ‘what if’ scenario. What if she hadn’t left school? What if she had graduated with her friends? Attended the same universities? “Deb…” She began, her friend turned to face her with luminous, amber eyes, a smile brightly blooming upon her face. “Deb, I want to let you know that…” 'Crack!' The tremor that cracked the concrete bunker came on like a whiplash. The students felt it simultaneously, the momentum of moving earth sending them tumbling from their seats and balling into one another. Debora fell forward onto Gwen, who lost her balance, slamming herself against hard concrete. “Get out!” Someone called from somewhere in the room, “Earthquake!” A chunk of the bunker dropped from the ceiling, narrowly missing Gwen’s head. Gwen’s mind was a chaotic scramble, she wanted to expand her Mana Shield, but it was too dangerous with Debora lingering over her. Unlike Instructor Alesia, Gwen's Lightning Shield could sizzle Debora right there and then. “Bronze Skin!” Dobra grunted, pushing herself from Gwen and shielding her friend from another wayward chunk of fallen concrete. “Gwen! Follow my lead! Enhance Fortitude!” Jun had made a moving dome of ice over Elvia and Yue; the trio was already moving. “Gwen, over here!” “You guys go! Deb’s got me.” Yue met Debora's eyes, neither giving way. “Get out now!” Gwen spat. Thankfully, the steel doors of the bunker fortification remained intact enough to be opened, thanks to a few Abjurers creating a passage, the students could escape without complication. “What the hell is that!!!” Someone screeched, pointing southward. Gwen turned to see a mountain, a damned MOUNTAIN, moving in the distance. They felt the earth shift again. Another supernatural tremor passed the clearing. All around them was the chaotic sound of crumbling structures and the falling and snapping of Gum Trees, whose twisted forms were sending down an avalanche of leaves and branches. “Where’s Instructor De Botton?” Gwen shouted over the din. “Has anyone seen Alesia?” Gwen's answer came in the form of chaotic and panicked of students. The night was dark, and the waxing moon barely provided enough light to see. What happened to all the lights? Gwen realised. There used to be lumen globes all over the camp. “Dancing Lights!” Gwen incanted, shedding light onto the anarchy. Around her, panicked students roved chaotically, moving like headless flies. They're making it worse, she realised. Gwen had experienced earthquakes in the old world before and knew the protocol for emergency measures. The greatest danger existed directly within, and outside buildings, at exits and alongside exterior walls. In a place like this were branches weighing twenty odd kilos were falling like rain; it would be best to steer well away from the bush. “To me!” She began to holler. “Everyone, gather on me!” No one listened. “TO ME!” She called again, louder this time, her vocal cords straining to their limits, but only a few students stopped to run toward her. “They’re not listening!” Yue cried out over the din. “THUNDERCLAP!” Gwen incanted a basic cantrip. In the next moment, a loud 'CRACK!' resounded over the area with a burst of brilliant white electrical light. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. “To me!” she screamed at them, wishing that she had a spell for voice projection. “Move away from the buildings and make for the clearing! Stay away from trees!” Two dozen or so students followed. Gwen took them towards an area of the camp clearing that seemed to offer the largest zone of safety from falling objects. “Where are all the instructors?” Yue asked bewilderingly, her voice beginning to grow hoarse. They looked toward the main building. Gwen's heart dropped forty fathoms. The two-storey concrete shed had collapsed into a pile of loose rubble, great slabs of cement jutting this way and that. The instructors had been having a meeting- Oh my God! Her heart skipped a beat. Was Alesia in there? “Oh… no…” Elvia cried out in dismay and panic. “We need to help them!” “Count me in.” Debora joined them, her bronze skin gleaming under the glow of Gwen's Dancing Lights. “I should be able to move the slabs with a few Enhancement buffs.” “Alright, Jun! You stay here with the other students, Henley, can you detect people under the rubble or something?” Henley was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. He looked at her weakly. The boy's face was full of fright and terror; his eyes glazed over. “Elvia, give him a hand with that bleeding.” “Got it! Healing Word!" “Who else? Who else can help us? Speak up!” The students remained silent, their eyes wide with incomprehension. Shit, they’re just kids. Gwen crushed the disappointment rising from her chest. Her mind turned away from the students, huddled like a gaggle of frightened geese, thinking instead of Alesia, Instructor Boone, Mr Richardson and the others. “Elvia, Deb, you’re with me. Yue! Can you help Jun control the situation here?” “You got it, Boss,” Yue replied, firing a few blasts of fire into the air to attract any stragglers. “Evokers! Give me Dancing Lights! Abjurers! Form a perimeter and yell if you see something coming that’s not human!” As she crossed over to the building, Gwen continued to shout into the gloom. “Who else can help? I need Transmuters! Which one of you is an Earth Elementalist?” There were no answers to Gwen’s desperate enquiries. Looking at her two companions, she was glad beyond relief that Elvia could heal and Debora remained calm and collected. She needed them now more than ever to be lucid and competent. The trio made it across the clearing. “Enhance Strength!” Debora self-buffed, then tried to lift the rubble while Gwen and Elvia stood heart-in-mouth a safe distance away. The wreckage was deceptively small, yet even a tiny slab of reinforced concrete was over a ton, far beyond the enhanced strength of a junior Transmuter, and a teenage girl at that. “It's too much!” Debora turned to look at them with an expression of pure despair. “It's too heavy for me!” “Oh, Gwennie…” Elvia’s face was now streaked with tears. Their poor Instructors, did any of them managed to get out? Surely they couldn’t have all perished! “We…we have to find the other students.” Gwen forced her mouth to move. Now wasn't the time to play the waif. There has to be an adult here to take command. “The instructors would have placed our safeties as the top priority. We need to do the same..." “THANK GOD you’re all alright!” A familiar voice called out from the darkness. The silhouette of a middle-aged man in an Instructor’s sports uniform appeared from the edge of the clearing. “Mr Crusoe!” Tension melted from Debora's limbs. Gwen knew that he was Debora's homeroom teacher and that Debora was his favourite. “Are the others alright?” Gwen and Elvia asked simultaneously. “The others are with me, but we’re going to need your help.” “What’s wrong?” As Crusoe came into the light, they could see that he was bleeding all over. His uniform was torn here and there and covered with leaves and dust. Dark blood was oozing over a graze near his abdomen, sending a clotted cascade of dark maroon down his track pants. “Sir!” Elvia cried out, moving immediately to heal him. “Cure Minor Wounds!” “Thank you, dear.” He coughed, patting Elvia’s head kindly. “I still need your help though.” Crusoe gestured towards the woods that extended into the darkness. “I am afraid instructor Alesia's pinned under a fallen tree, we managed to get her out, but we need a healer before we can move her.” Gwen's chest constricted, Alesia's injured?! “Of course!” Elvia agreed readily. “I’ll come with.” Debora followed. “Are you okay now sir?” Elvia kindly asked the ageing Instructor. “Thank you. It’s just this way, about a few hundred meters, follow me and be careful of any Magical Beasts that may still be in the area.” The party moved with as much haste as could be mustered. In the distance, they could see the opening of a pyrotechnical display that seemed to light up the heavens itself. There was a titanic struggle happening, wherever and whatever that creature was, and the resultant phenomena was a reddish, scarlet glow that seemed to consume the night sky. That illumination! That colour! It was a unique, singular shade of red! Suddenly, Gwen paused in her thoughts. No one in their party had cast anything, but she could feel the flow of the air around them change and the composition of elements in the area shift, modified by an arcane current. “Halt!” Crusoe’s voice echoed through the woods despite the persistent falling of leaves and branches every time the ground shook. “Did you feel that?” “Yeah.” Gwen readied a spell. Debora renewed her Bronze Skin, moving closer to Gwen, acting as her Shield. “Elvia, stay behind us,” Gwen commanded. The little blonde girl narrowed her profile. “Debora.” Crusoe scanned the area around them carefully, speaking his next words carefully. “I want you to restrain Gwen, right now.” To Gwen’s unsuspecting confusion, her friend reached out and caught her by the arm, whipping Gwen around so quickly as to utterly disorientate her before driving an iron knee into her gut, sending her down onto the path. “Deb! W-what are you doing!” Elvia called out in alarm, her mind robbed of meaningful judgment. Debora's grip had the consistency of a steel vice, wrapping around Gwen's neck before pulling Gwen upward, half choking her and driving the air from her oesophagus. The Transmuter's other arm twisted Gwen's wrist behind her back so tightly as to make Gwen’s mind hot with agony. Through the pain, Gwen realised that without the ability to gesture and invoke, she was incapable of casting spells. Crusoe’s face transformed from a kindly old man to one full of menace and malice. “It’s a shame the tier 4 Fire is not here, but the Transmuter's a nice catch.” He said to no one in particular. His gaze moved up and down the bodies of the two girls, smacking his lips as he did do. “Sir?” Elvia still had not realised the crisis of the moment. "Mr Crusoe?" “Run Evee! Run!” Gwen managed to squeeze out between Debora’s fingers, “He’s not Crusoe!” To her dismay, the small girl did not run. Elvia did not want to leave behind her friends. “Good girl.” ‘Not’ Crusoe stated approvingly, dispensing with silent spells. “Dominate!” In an instant, Gwen realised what had happened to Debora. That spell! It was one of the forbidden Schools of Enchantment. They had learnt about it in Spellcraft. The mental manipulation inherent to Enchantment was censored and was only available to law enforcement specialists. This man before them wasn't a Tower Agent, meaning he was something far more dangerous. Elvia's eyes began to glaze over. No! Not Elvia! Not on my life, you piece of shit! Gwen's mind rioted. For once, she was glad that she had terrible control over her conduits. Tapping into a torrent of raging emotions, her Evocation Sigil activated as before, triggered by not by expertise but by trauma. A flood of electricity poured from her skin, ripping through Debora’s body, dispelling her Bronze Skin and ravaging her innards as the hysterical charge sought to ground itself. Debora collapsed where she stood behind Gwen in a shower of gold-white sparks, falling senseless to the floor like an untethered marionette. Gwen wanted desperately to kneel and check if her friend was still alive, but couldn't afford to ignore Crusoe, who was staring at her slack-jawed. “Gwen?” Elvia’s voice was quivering and weak. Good, Gwen breathed out. The Dominate had not taken Evee. Their Instructor once told them that mind control effects worked best on unsuspecting individuals. The more conscious a person was, the less likely they were to be affected. In that manner, it was very similar to the School of Illusion. “Debora…” “Evee…” Gwen placed herself between the Mage and her friend. “Evee, I want you to run back to camp as fast as you can, tell Yue what has happened.” Elvia’s face had been full of hesitation, but Gwen’s steadfast demeanour quickly dispelled her reluctance. The Gwen in front of her now felt so different, so determined and powerful. In the pale glow of the distant fire that illuminated the horizon, her figure was like that of a giant! She would have to go, Elvia convinced herself. She owed it to Gwen to make it back to Yue and tell everyone what had happened here. That was the duty which Gwen had bestowed upon her. “Oh, it’s not going to be that easy…” Not Crusoe intoned nastily. “Dominate!” This time, the Enchantment was directed toward the Lighting Mage. Gwen's senses were suddenly thrust into wool. She could feel the will of an alien malevolence invading her conscience, trying to change her perceptions. Then... nothing happened. It was exactly that. For what Gwen felt in her mind seemed not to happen to her personally, but rather someone else. She understood the phenomena, but her mind remained unmolested nor affected. She was less a victim and more like that of a scientist watching the spread of ink in a container, recording its colouration and displacement. Elvia had by now made a short distance down the Fire Trail, and would soon be out of sight. Crusoe beamed at Gwen with an aura of sadistic delight. “What did you do?” He spluttered, his tone full of marvel. “How did you resist my spell? You're not wearing a Mind Shield ring.” Dominate was a tier 5 enchantment! How does a Tier 2 Mage with a single school even begin to possess the mental fortitude necessary to resist his compulsion? “You are whetting my appetite more and more, Gwen Song.” Crusoe’s pitch rose dangerously, “You might be my catch of the day, after all.” Gwen felt cold sweat drench her back. This man is incredibly dangerous! She thought to herself, thinking of a dozen scenarios where she could somehow buy time for Debora, but also escape herself. The man began to change, and Gwen felt her stomach churn as the Illusion over his face dispelled entirely, revealing - a cowl? The figure in front of her wore the indistinct shape of a robe that seemed to distort her vision, almost as if she was staring at a faint shadow in human form. The dust around him began to twist and form into small vortexes, becoming tendrils extending from his body. “Well then.” The man savoured the dramatic reveal. “Let's get our freak on, shall we-” “Guiding Bolt!” Gwen caught the man before he could finish, smothering his form with purple energy and motes of positive mana. She can't believe the stupid idiot still thought to deliver his stupid villain’s diatribe. She then pushed her conduits to full-throttle, committing her entire mana pool. “Blast Bolt!” The world went white.

The immediate vicinity of where Gwen’s lightning had struck combusted into flames, the dry bark of the surrounding Blue Gums combusted, bathing the locale in a hazy glow. The coral cinder juxtaposed beautifully with the blue arcs that continued to ionise and flood over the cowled form of the Mage, swallowed by a cascade of plasma. Eat this you piece of shit! Gwen grunted, feeling that distinct exhaustion associated with mana depletion. Her full-to-OoM channel lasted a good half a minute, ranging up to thirty strikes drawn by the positive energy, increasing in intensity until the final Blast Bolt was almost a solid beam of white-hot electricity. The light faded. The ground was a mixture of charcoal and molten silica. Gwen’s eyes adjusted. She saw a dark dome emerge from beneath her point of impact. The cowled Mage within could just barely be seen, one hand raised above his head, manifesting a Shield constituted of swirling black dust. Her bosoms seized. The cowled Mage dispelled his Shield. She could see that he had not weathered her attack well. There was smoke cascading from the arm that had cast the Shield, and a thin trail of blood dribbled from the cowl's shadow. “Now you’ve done it.” The Mage intoned, his voice no longer one of mocking joviality, but one of deep annoyance. “Why is it so hard to hold a conversation with you people?” “Dust Devil!” The man's voice grew hollow. Gwen watched in horror as a breeze of black dust roved over her position. She tried to put up a Shield, but even her best attempt collapsed in a shower of sparks. The storm enveloped her, seemingly possessing a life of its own, taking her from the ground, thrusting her into the air. In the next moment, she was flying, overwhelmed by a feeling of free fall before slamming into the ground so hard that her jaws clattered. Gwen moaned, her bones tenderised by the Mage's brutality. She couldn’t breathe, her chest wracked with unbearable pain. But the Mage wasn't done with her yet. She felt the dusty tendrils wrap around her wrists, pulling her bodily upward, crucifying her against an invisible cross. Where the dust had touched her tracksuit, it disintegrated entirely. The sand-like motes of dark energy cut into her skin, releasing streams of warm blood. Gwen grew faint at the sight of blood. And that wasn't the worst of it. An invisible gaze within the hideous cowl licked all over her body; the very same feeling she had felt from strangers whose eyes lingered as she walked home late, magnified a hundred times over. Oh fuck. OH FUCK. OH FUCK OH FUCK. Panic washed over her. Mayhap there was an instructor that survived and could come to her aid? Where was Alesia? She was so powerful, so peerless, surely she of all people could not perish in something as mundane as a collapsed building! Perhaps Elvia could bring help? No! Gwen would prefer they stayed at the camp. There was safety in numbers. She needed to buy time, to delay. “What… what do you want from us?” “Now you want to talk?” The Mage faced her with the dark void of his cowl. He regarded his quarry, studying her for the first time. The Lightning girl possessed the body of someone older, though she was evidently only fifteen-sixteen. The spell that she had cast at him, it was glorious, beautiful, possessing great affinity. What's more, he was impressed that after all that had happened, the girl remained so collected. Mayhap it had something to do with the same reason she resisted his Dominate? Probing her was going to be a real hoot. What strange secrets, what memories, hid in her crevasses? He commanded the Dust Devil to send out an additional tendril, picking up Debora and elevating her bodily by the torso. Where its dusty tendrils caressed, Debora's clothes disintegrated, sending out a small trickle of blood. “Still alive, nice.” The Mage nodded approvingly. “We’ll walk and talk…” The trio began to move through the woods. Gwen noted between teary visions of clenched agony that the man was levitating. Gwen herself was painfully lifted a few inches off the ground, her arms and collarbones aflame against the weight of her body. “Who… who are you?” Gwen spoke between clenched teeth. She could feel a sort of delirium coming on. She was losing blood. “I am Edgar.” To her surprise, the man was entirely forthcoming. “…” Gwen winced. Edgar? You’re Edgar from the Edgar, and your plan is to Edgar? They were moving quite briskly now, and Gwen felt the pit of her stomach sink. In the distance, there was more rumbling. A few branches that fell towards them disintegrated into dust. “Why… why are you doing this?” “Why does anyone do anything?” The man chuckled. “What?” “One's modus operandi! The raison d'etre!” Big words, Gwen noted. The man didn't lack in education. “We’re just students on a field trip…” She just managed. The pain was too much for someone who'd never broken a bone in either of her lives. “If you want to know, I'll tell you everything,” Edgar continued all on his own. “You see, we are the…” But Gwen was no longer listening. “… what a terrible listener.” Edgar snorted, giving Gwen's clammy cheeks a pat. “I guess the bloodletting was a little excessive. I need our little lamb at just the right state of tenderness.” She must have lost consciousness, Gwen realised. She quickly self-assessed. Her tracksuit was in tatters, barely holding together as it were. The apparition secured her waist and torso with a tendril, another wrapped around her ankle, supporting her weight, splaying her like a cheerleader doing an X. Taking note of her surroundings, she saw to her dismay that Debora was still unconscious, dangling like a humanoid fruit behind them a few feet away, likewise hoisted in the air. They were deep into the bush now, where the landscape grew rugged, filling with sandstone and short shrubbery, with only the occasional Blood Gum languishing in waterless crevices. They soon arrived at what looked like a chasm, cut into the sandstone cliff like an axe wound. “You up yet, Sleeping Beauty?” the sardonic voice of Edgar asked. “I know you are~, or do you want Dusty there to wake you up like Prince Charming? “Where… are you taking me?” Gwen opened her eyes unwillingly. She had better do something before they go into that cave. God knows what was going to be in there. “Where indeed?” Edgar seemed to have regained that scornful composure of his. “You should be glad. We’re going somewhere safe- from that.” He pointed to the right: in the far distance and through the sparse foliage of the trees, Gwen could see a gargantuan thing roving across the landscape. Or rather, she could see the landscape itself moving as though a living thing. Now and then, she caught blossoms of crimson explosions. Gwen blinked. That colour! That mana signature! It must be her instructor. It must be Alesia! She was still alive! She was fighting that thing! Trying to deter it from moving toward the city! Gritting her teeth, Gwen fought back the Dust Devil's hold. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. “Thunderclap!” She charged her single-incantation cantrip with every drop of mana she had regenerated. Her spell launched into the air, erupting into cacophony and colour, blossoming into a blue-purple electric-lotus. The faceless cowl of the Mage waited for her below. 'Clap. Clap. Clap.' Even the man's clapping was sarcastic. “You think the Scarlet Sorceress has time for you at a time like this?” Edgar snorted. “What, are you her apprentice or something?” Gwen averted her eyes. 'Smack!' A slap backhanded her face. Gwen made no noise but mum. They moved once more. The trio slowly levitated down to a ledge that overlooked a ritual of carnage. Oh God. Gwen felt her spine turn to jelly. Is Edgar looking to sacrifice her Temple of Doom style? To Gwen, the magic-circle meant nothing, consisting of dozens of concentric rings of engravings and glyphs, at the centre of which was an egg-like object, akin to a menhir stone. Regrettably, they were indeed heading down toward the site of the ritual. With every meter of descent, the taste of bile grew stronger. She was a consultant! Not Indiana Jones! She can't possibly expect to wiggle her way out of a fucking Dark Ritual! “Don’t be choking on me now,” Edgar conversed with a friendly tone. “This won’t hurt at all, not if you cooperate.” The depth of the cavern glowed with amber. By now they had reached the bottom, reaching a stone table Transmuted from the dark stone of the cavern. Edgar carelessly deposited Debora’s unconscious body, letting her ragdoll onto the surface. He then examined the Transmuter, tearing away at the shredded uniform until Debora was left without modesty. The man's actions, Gwen noted, lacked a certain passion. Instead, Edgar gave the impression of a butcher examining a fine cut. Finally, the Mage placed a finger against Debora’s neck and felt for a pulse. “Good grief, Gwen. You’re merciless,” Edgar ridiculed his captive. “Your friend's rightly fuck up.” “Will she…” Gwen had to ask. “Who knows?” She watched as he extended a hand, materialising what appeared to be a healing injector, then placed it next to Debora. “For your friend,” he said. “If you behave.” She felt the tendrils of force around her body go slack. The apparition faded into a pile of grey dust, cascading from her clothes. Edgar moved toward another table and gave the surface a friendly pat, a man beckoning an unwilling cat. Gwen nursed her tender wrists; her eyes darted between the man, the table, and the healing injector. For a split second, she imagined herself taking it and injecting herself, giving her a better chance to escape this place. “Make yourself comfortable,” Edgar mocked her indecision. Now burdened with shame and guilt, Gwen moved demurely toward the ‘examination’ table, the exact opposite of where she could feel comfortable. Edgar pulled back his hands as if to show his best intentions. “Let’s not rough you up anymore, shall we?” Gwen swallowed hard. Maybe she could self-destruct, take him with her? She wondered what would happen if she willed her conduits to overload. Was that possible? Slowly, agonisingly, she removed her tattered jacket, pulling it with the tattered T-shirt over her head. She was down to her panties when she heard Edgar sniggering. “What are you doing?” He asked, trying to hold his laughter. “…” Gwen's face caught on fire. “You said…” “I have no interesting in that sort of thing,” Edgar answered mirthfully. “You are a lucky young woman. There are those of us who'd eat you alive." To her surprise, he materialised a robe not too dissimilar from the one he wore and threw it towards her. “Cover yourself. Don't catch a cold now.” Gwen was beginning to become very confused. What the hell is he doing? Why was Edgar playing nice? She covered herself. The robe was velvety and warm, hanging onto her body like the softest silk. The villain had good taste in textiles at least, if not style. “So, Gwen…” a swirl of dust seemed to materialise underneath the man, and he made himself a stool composed of compressed particles of dust. “Tell me about yourself.” She gazed at him blankly. Her thoughts were a mess. Why are you asking me these things? Aren’t you guys terrorists or something? You attacked us! Unleashed that thing! Why are we even having a cordial conversation in the first place? “Don’t want to answer?” He asked, and looked over at Debora, whose chest was barely moving. “My name is Gwen Song…” Gwen began - and spoke a little about her school, her life in the city, her divorced parents, saying whatever would satisfy the man so that he would finally inject Debora with the healing potion. “That's all very fascinating,” Edgar said finally, “but what’s your modus operandi? Your raison d'etre?” “My ... my reason for being?” Gwen wondered. It was getting hard to think; she wanted to sleep. “That's right, tell me what you want, what you desire. Why are you a Mage? What do you think Mages are born to do?” “I… I don’t know.” The barrage of questions was making her head throb. Not knowing the answer, she spoke the truth. “Come on,” Edgar demanded. “Surely you don’t think that you of all people, whose talent exceeds a hundred thousand souls, was born to be... a wage slave? Do you? Think on it. Ask yourself.” Gwen found herself in a deep state of introspection far more readily than she thought possible. What did she 'really' want? Gwen wanted a comfortable life. She wanted prestige and a great deal of wealth and parents who gave a shit and to reconnect with her brother and a seaside house and two cats and a dog- “Those are easy goals.” Edgar’s voice grew sonorous, filling the emptiness of her mind. “You could have them effortlessly with your talent.” “Yes…” Gwen realised her goals were indeed shallow. She could easily reach them with her talents and her drive. “You should aim for something bigger, greater, something more suited to yourself, your very own personal legend.” Her surroundings now seemed to fade into nothing. Gwen appeared to be alone with this friendly man who was speaking to her so endearingly, even Debora’s comatose body faded from her awareness. “What would that be?” “Firepower! Firepower! and more Firepower!” The man’s voice took on that strange tone which Yue loved to use, that childish passion with which Gwen loved so much. “You could be just like Instructor Alesia, a goddess of destruction, respected and worshipped...” “That would be lovely,” Gwen replied dreamily, a stupefied expression of satisfaction on her face. How curious, she thought to herself. The man's voice was stereophonic! “How happy that would make you,” the voice continued. “You should do it.” “I could…” Gwen repeated. “Would you… like me to help you?” The voice implored. Edgar disappeared, and Gwen was in a place that she knew very well. It was the Cognisance Chamber! Oh, thank God! She was safe! The Field Trip was just an Illusion. She was free floating in that space of absolute freedom; she could see the glow of her Evocation sigil with its nebular of lightning. "Let me help you." “I want you to help me,” Gwen repeated after him. “Let me in,” the voice intoned. “Come in… come in…” Gwen declared dreamily. “Invite me...” “I want you,” she repeated more forcefully this time. “I want you beside me.” Suddenly, she could feel Edgar right beside her, his own astral body swirling with a malevolent dark light, flickering with motes of Elemental Dust. Comparatively, her own astral body was long and lithe, a work of art, a beautiful crystalline sculpture swirling with bottled lightning. “Beautiful,” Edgar spoke with a tone bordering on reverence. “You should be proud of your potential. You're special.” "I am special." Gwen giggled. He moved to touch her, and though Gwen knew that there was something wrong about the intimate act, she still wanted to accept Edgar as her companion. She closed her eyes, feeling the shame of being touched for the first time. Edgar’s hand moving from her naval toward her left breast, were the heart resided, and where the light of the astral body was brightest. Her ego pulsed in turn, growing dimmer. Though the Enchanter's fingers rested upon the globe of Gwen’s breast, there was no flesh to be depressed, nothing to be groped nor prodded. Instead, his fingers sunk into the fabric of her soul, moving past the membrane of her Astral Body. “My God…” Edgar’s voice cried out in ecstasy. “What is this? There are two existences here!” A wild excitement shook Edgar to his core. It was a phenomenon that he had never seen before. The girl was a priceless specimen! A prize to curry the highest favour with his Mistress. Edgar paused. He felt suddenly assailed by a sudden feeling of mortal danger. His Astral Form startlingly experienced a sense of vertigo, an impossible feeling in the immaterial world of the mind. He quickly retracted his hand from the girl's Astral Body but found that he was stuck. "What?" With a push, Edgar willed himself to manifest via the third-eye, to observe what the hell was happening. To his shock and horror, his Astral Body had become inundated by dozens of leech-like slugs, darker than black, meandering hungrily, looking for a way in. "What the fuck is that?!" Edgar spluttered. His real body broke out in a terrific sweat. Before the Enchanter could react, Gwen’s unconscious anima tapped into something tenebrous and formless. Tens of thousands of black, writhing worms flooded into her Astral Form. How could her body withstand that? He marvelled. But this was no time to be lollygagging. Whatever was manifesting in here was bound to be happening out there. He gathered his will, then pulled, feeling the stuck hand sliding free, send out sparks of lightning where he had penetrated before. The pain was exquisite, though Edgar didn’t care, his Element existed in opposition to hers and could withstand whatever she could throw at him. What he feared was that black conduit that was now manifesting within her body - that was a mystery he wasn't keen to toy with. "!" His world went dark. In the next instant, Edgar was back in his body. “Aaaarrrgh!” a cry of unimaginable agony echoed across the cavern. The Enchanter fell backwards as if propelled by a spring, one hand clutching his wrist. A spurt of arterial blood covered Gwen and the table upon which she sat. His hand! His right hand! Shit! SHIT! FUCK! Edgar lifted the stump to his face. It was gone. No, more than gone. It was GONE. It was as if his right hand had never existed at all, neither in the material nor the immaterial. Gritting his teeth, Edgar stumbled toward Debora, grabbed the healing injector, and slammed it into his wrist. 'Psssht!' The flesh mended, the bleeding staunched. Edgard looked at a perfectly sealed stump, its plane of tissue as smooth as unscarred flesh and as natural as the day he was born. A sudden rage overtook Edgar. He felt such hatred for this girl before him as he had never felt for anyone nor anything in his life. Not the nanny that had denied him his Vid-Casts. Not his father who had found him disgusting and wanting. Not even his poor mother whom they said died when he was born, inheriting the ire of his father and his estate. He pointed towards Gwen with his remaining hand. “Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust…” He began, incanting the most powerful spell he possessed. A spell that would take a terrible toll on his own body for his inability to sufficiently control it’s power. “Horrid W-”

The cold invasion of Edgar's hand thrusting into her Astral Body was like being penetrated by a rusty sword; its serrated edge mangling her flesh as it inched deeper. A helpless spectator, Gwen watched the usurpation of her mind and body. For a moment in time, she wanted nothing more than to end it all, to summon all the Lightning in the world, then go out in a blaze of brilliant plasma. For all she knew, she could wake up in her old world; like waking from bad Midsummer Night's dream. Conceivably, she had exhausted her hour upon the stage, and could now be no more. Then she felt it - that all too familiar sense of vertigo, and saw the gathering of black motes of dark matter within her body coalesce into lithe leeches, attaching themselves like tenebrous white-blood cells to the intruder. Edgar's Astral Form suddenly panicked, struggling to pull free. With a sense of schadenfreude, she willed herself to hold on, to keep the man bound and tethered for the creatures to ravage. Here was her Astral Soul, it was hers alone, and she forbid him to leave without paying a toll in blood. Slowly, the little motes coalesced, filling her mana conduit. Gwen instinctively sensed the opening of another Gate. Her Evocation conduit tapped something else, something existing in the space between spaces. "!" A tenebrous matter flooded through her body. 'Shield!" With a surge of will, Gwen coalescence a mana shield formed of cracking black energy. A Void Shield. “Aaaarrrgh!” The scream deafened her ear; she blinked, then was back in the Material world. Her body slumped. She knew this feeling; it was one she had experienced it before. Dizzy with vertigo, she attempted to orientate herself, keeping her eyes on Edgar who now screamed like a gutted pig. The bastard reached for the potion injector he had placed before Debora. You lying sack of filth! She saw him inject it’s precious cargo, bewilderingly manipulate the stump that was now his right hand, then turn to her with pure malice. Edgar began to chant, his voice thick and full of agony, his invocation dark and foreboding. Gwen bodily pushed herself onto one side, freeing her arms for spell casting. Come on! Come on! Her body moved as slow as molasses. The man was down to his last few phrases now; he was pointing toward her and Gwen had no more time to think. She recalled the first thing that came to her mind and channelled the dark energy filling her conduits like eldritch ice. “Blast Bolt!” She invoked, though what materialised wasn't the white-hot plasma of Elemental Lightning, but a dark, crackling line of nothingness, of the absence of things, a jet black bolt rendering reality itself null. The last of Gwen's vitality drained out with the spell. The lid of her eyes turned to lead. Her body, now thinner, frailer, almost skeletal, collapsed onto the stone table, a husk of its former self. “Horrid W…!” Before Edgar could even complete his spell, he heard the familiar sound of Gwen’s desperate casting of her signature spell. He chose to ignore it, knowing full well he could recover. "Blast Bolt!" Before his final Major Incantation, a bolt of dark energy violently stabbed into his flesh. His invocation shattered, it’s magic falling apart. Something had just mangled his astral body, damaged the conduits of mana that existed metaphysically within his corporal and incorporeal form. Edgar looked down. He was surprised to find that he was now sans leg, sans a part of his torso and sans an arm. In the next heartbeat, spurts of blood gushed from all three wounds. A mote of mana, built by contingency into an item that he had always worn around his left index finger, activated instantly. The glyphs of a Teleportation, its destination pre-set, activated below him. “NO!” Edgar cried out, “Leave me here! I can take her! I can take her!” But the spell could not heed his cry. In the next moment, Edgar was gone. With Edgar now out of range, the runes and glyphs surrounding the menhir ceased to writhe, fading into the darkness. One by one, the barriers dispelled. Not far from the monstrously large Egg. Gwen lay lifelessly on the table; her body pale and lifeless. Slowly, a pulse of pale light could be seen. Morye's gift palpitated as though a throbbing heart, sending out tendrils of green energy, searching for that which would sustain its hostess. It found sustenance not too far away, conveniently in the form of an ancient egg. A green haze poured from the amulet, taking advantage of the invasive glyphs carved onto the menhir's surface, providing a penetrative channel into the life that existed within. The life force within was ancient, rich and nourishing, and so, the amulet drank deeply from the egg’s interior. It would only need a sliver of this energy to sustain its owner, who was merely a mortal. As for the excess, its long atrophied Soul Well could use a windfall. A viridescent glow then suffused Gwen's shrivelled dermis. Her anorexic, shrunken form began to heal. Her sallow cheeks began to fill, returning to their usual plumpness. Her many injuries mended miraculously, as natural as if Elvia had suffused her with a torrent of Positive Energy. Gwen's heart, which only moments before had the weakest of palpitations, began to beat with vigour. Her limbs restored to their slender, athletic self, her skin taking on a healthy glow, more vibrant and youthful than ever before, as supple as if she were a babe. 'Badump!' Gwen inhaled as the amulet became once again dormant. She was hungry for life, hungry for air! Alesia threw away the fourth potion injector. From below, she resembled a goddess of flame, resplendent in her flickering regalia. Even her hair was a flowing mane of scarlet fire, swarming with firefly embers. But even with all her abilities pushed to its utmost limits, Alesia felt powerless in front of the Mythical Serpent. She had tried to manage her cooldowns, alternating between health and mana potions, but her body was at its alchemical limits. With each additional injection beyond the first, the effectiveness halved. She could see the camp from her vantage point now, that was how close the creature had gotten. Another minute or so, and the thing would ride roughshod through the vicinity. It needn’t even a direct hit; a near miss would utterly churn the camp to dust, burying those kids under a mountain of soil and debris. 'Bung!' A firework lit up the top of a nearby hill. Yue! They’re alright! Alesia's agitated palpitation returned to a state of placidity. She once again faced the creature below her, its scales the hue of rainbows, like the petrol sheen of a pigeon’s neck. Why was it attacking? Alesia wondered - though she realised 'attack' was hardly the right word. A creature of yore did not 'attack' in the manner that baser creatures did. Like the seasons, they were driven by instinct beyond human ken, their very existence brining unfathomable terror to the Frontier cities. Beings such as these were neither benevolent nor malevolent, no matter how often humans anthropomorphised their existence. When humanity had been young, they had worshipped these Mythical beings. Many cultures still do: the Shenlong of Chinese legend, the Quezacotl of the South American Empires and even the Ice and Fire Giants of Icelandic lore were among that number. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. This serpent was such a creature, a land God as old as time. Even harassed by fire and sulphur, it had chosen to ignore her, its impervious resistance beyond her assault. That somehow made it worse. The creature before her had no designs on her students. It wasn’t even aware of them. She had no idea why it was moving toward the city and could only guess as to its goal. No matter it’s motive though, it was her prerogative to try and divert the serpent's path. A dagger materialised in her hand, an exotic blade with arcane designs of engraved flame that seemed not of terrestrial origin. Its handle and pommel were encrusted with rubies the size of pigeon eggs, a priceless artefact by any measure. “O Efreet, Spirit of flames, heed my call…” A mandala appeared beneath Alesia’s feet, three circles bisecting to form a triplicate, revolving faster and faster until it tapped into the Elemental Plane of Fire. The air around Alesia instantly ignited, falling below in flaming sheets, turning the bush into a sea of fire. As she gathered her will, intense heat from above and below fed into the mandala, collating and condensing the energy into her manifesting invocation. A moment of silence reigned - the calm before the firestorm, then the flames on Alesia’s body, the combusting air, the forest fire below, extinguished simultaneously. “Maximised Firestorm!” The Cores shattered, sending jagged shards of splintered stone into her hand. Alesia winced, watching the egg-sized Creature Cores, harvested from rare adult Salamanders, burst into incandescence. The sky began to churn and turn, birthing a small sun from the accumulated energy taken from the Plane of Fire. The serpent below raised it’s head to regard this new celestial object, its vision so similar to the ochre sun setting upon the outback bush. Fire fell, first in drops, and then in sheets, and finally in cascading torrents. It struck the rainbow scales of the serpent, marring the brilliance. The rest of the storm followed, quick forming into a vortex of fire touching down in the path of the creature. Finally, the serpent noticed her. An immense head, the size of a small hill, rose to regard Alesia, a tiny mote blazing in the sky. She could feel it’s attention focusing on her, and the burden of that attention was like molten lead pouring into her mind, almost banishing her to the earth below, “Move!” She screamed at it. “Move, or be Purged!” The firestorm raged and twirled. Alesia could see that it was peeling off some of the serpent’s scales. “Move!” Alesia raised her hand and threw a hapless fireball toward its face, where it harmlessly slid off. The serpent stopped. To her shock and surprise, it paused in its movement. It then reared upon its serpentine neck and rose into the heavens, an impossible thing twenty kilometres long and the width of a football field, rising to meet her. So this is how I die. Alesia moped sadly. I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet. She wondered if her Master would teleport the Tower in time. Only a superstructure like that could deter a mythic being. A Message spell blazed beside her ear. “Alesia! What’s your status! We’re just past Gate 47, and we can see it all the way from here! What is it doing?” “I think I pissed it off, Jonas.” “What?” “I THINK I PISSED IT OFF, JONAS,” Alesia screamed into the Message device. She felt ridiculous. Her Master had made her a peerless Combat Mage, and now she was going to die, saving some nobody-kids from a government school. Still, there were worse ways to go. To die duelling a Mythic being, a creature that had existed since time immemorial and epoch primordial. If nothing else, it's a kick-ass memorial plaque. “Come at me!” She screamed at the serpent. Flanking it from the right, hoping to direct it towards the ocean. “Come get me, you big ugly worm!” Another Message spell burst into audibility beside her. “Alesia! Alesia! For fuck’s sake, stand down and fly towards us.” “You’re slow as fuck Jonas,” Alesia shouted into her Device as the Serpent gave chase. “It’s your fault if I die, and I am going to haunt you!” “Alesia… please…” “Ohhhh shit its fast! It’s fast, Jonas! How does something that fat even move this fast?” Alesia was having fun now, pivoting with a combination of Haste and Greater Flight, changing directions here and there as the serpent tried to bop her with its snout. “Alesia, don’t die!” “I am trying, Jonas! It’s a fucking Mythic being! Not a dog I am trying to dodge. Stop distracting me!” 'Bung!' She became distracted. A thunder cap resonated loudly from a direction south of the bushland, exploding in the air as a brilliant blue-purple electric-lotus. Gwen! Alesia's breath caught. She dipped low, avoiding the mythic Serpent and gliding close to its scales. The creature was beautiful up close, gorgeous, like flying beside a scintillating sheet of chromic colour. Why was Gwen's signal so far from the camp? She didn’t know the answer to her question, but Alesia did understand the meaning behind the firework. Gwen was in trouble, a great deal of trouble - and she was calling for help. “Alesia!” yet another Message spell bloomed into resonance beside Her, the voice of her decade-old partner, Jonas. “I… I LOVE YOU.” “Not now Jonas!” Alesia shut off her Message interface with a wave of her hand, dodging the serpent again and leading it off course. I am coming for you, Gwen! Just hold out until I get there! “…” Jonas and the team moved toward the Mythic serpent at the utmost limit afforded by their unmapped Teleportation Circle. The furtherer they had gone from the city though, the less precise the teleportation became. Still, it was much faster than Flight and much safer than taking ground transport during an earthquake. “Good news?” The Abjurer, Taj, asked nervously, watching a Jonas’ grey-blue eyes grew moist. “She hung up,” he replied. “My condolences," the Transmuter, Paul, sadly remarked as he finished the next glyph. “It’s done! Hold on to your hats, here we go! Teleportation!” Gwen rose from the dead with the resplendent vigour of uninterrupted rest. She felt no sense of distress or anxiety, only an unnatural serenity. Her most immediate memory surfaced in her mind. Frantically, she looked toward where Edgar had fallen. The only evidence that her assailant had been there was a floor full of dried blood clotting in the dust. Not far from her, lay the unconscious form of Debora. "Debs!" Gwen leapt from the table and ran towards her friend. Gingerly, carefully, Gwen placed a finger under Debora's nose. Nothing?! No! Was her friend dead? Gwen stared slack-jawed at the Transmuter, whose body remained ravaged by Gwen's lightning. She placed her fore and index over Debora’s neck. Thankfully, she felt a faint pulse. Gwen looked around the room for something that could help. To her surprise, she found the injector with which the Mage had used in haste. Thankfully, there was still a sliver left. I hope this is enough! Gwen reminded herself that Edgar had staunched bleeding on a hand stump with this thing. She slammed it as instructed into Debora’s thigh. Immediately Debora’s complexion took on a fairer hue, leaving behind the deathly pallor she had prior, healing the electric-burns that wracked her dermis. “Debora! Debora! Can you hear me?” She spoke into her friend’s ear, though she received no response. To her great dismay and anxiety, Debora wasn't breathing. SHIT! Gwen forced herself to remain composed. Gwen recalled her First Aid training; as a manager, the certification was mandatory. She began by massaging Debora’s chest, doing repetitions of thirty odd or so before checking and moving on to C.P.R. Gwen then tucked Debora’s head back, opening the airway of her oesophagus, pinched her nose, and placed her mouth onto Debora's, sealing her lips. She blew two quick breathes, waiting for Debora’s chest to rise and fall before releasing her nostrils and repeating the action. 'Cough! C-cough!' "Debs!" An indescribable happiness tingled Gwen's insides. [You. Life Bringer?] A stray thought intruded into Gwen mind, halting Gwen in her tracks. “Hello?” Gwen asked the empty room around her. “Is … is anyone there?” She looked toward the dozen or so corpses that still littered the area around the menhir. Oh, shit - is one of them rising from the dead? [You know the song to sing the dead?] The voice in her head asked again. “Where are you? Who are you?” Gwen commanded the room, feeling silly for doing so. [Here] The voice said. Gwen looked towards the centre of the room, where only an egg-shaped menhir stood. [Release me] “You are… a rock?” Gwen approached the menhir, sensing a kinship that she had felt only for someone like Percy, her brother. [Remove my shackles] Gwen knew innately that the voice meant no harm, as a child knew their parent to be benevolent. Gwen approached the menhir and pryed off the spent mana stones, stamping over the magic circle. As she wreaked havoc, she felt the presence within the menhir grow stronger, until finally, she felt elated, as though a weight had been removed from her chest. Suddenly, she felt the coolness of falling rain, smelled the fresh loam of upturned earth, heard the quiet cascade of billabongs and the yawning of blood gums as they grew. [We are grateful] “No worries…” Gwen spoke to the menhir, now increasingly appearing to her like an egg. “Are you… alright? Are you an egg?” [We are kin.] “Thanks.” Gwen felt absurd, carrying out a conversation with a salient stone egg. She searched her mind, scanning through memories of the Creatures Class and wondering what creature the thing could be. An Earthen Troll? A sentient spirit from the Plane of Earth? [Gift for kin?] Gwen looked around her. More than anything, she was worried about Yue, about Elvia. Did Elvia escape? Did she meet with Yue? Did they evacuate? “Can you get me out of here?” Gwen asked the egg, wondering if it would sprout legs and arms. [A simple thing] "Right." [We cometh] Gwen looked around her, doing her best to ignore the fact that there were real life dead bodies of actual human beings here and there, trying to keep herself from going insane. There was... nothing happening. About half two kilometres in, the snake gave up. Instead, it changed directions. A shimmering glow began to suffuse the length of the serpent, illuminating the heavens with a blast of chromatic aurora australis. Much to Alesia's shock, the mythic being began to shrink, moving towards some location buried in the valley below. That’s where Gwen’s signal was! She gave chase, though the snake was the swifter of the two, its size giving it an impossible advantage even as it rapidly shrunk, leaving vast swaths of the landscape devasted beneath its girth. Alesia marvelled at the manner in which it eventually became the size of a city-tram, making for what seemed to be a cleft by the side of a sheer sandstone cliff. She watched the thing slither into the gully, knowing that she had to follow. More tremors shook the cavern. As Debora had done for her before, Gwen opened up her feeble Shield, hoping that it would be enough to keep them safe. She then gazed at the silent egg. What did it mean, it was coming? 'Crack!' A chunk of rock the size of a sedan fell into the chamber. Then she saw it, a serpent with a head the size of a sedan, slithering through the cavern’s mouth above them, meandering down towards her, its forked tongue darting this way and that, tasting the air. "FUCK!" Gwen swore. Misfortune loves company. The thing was huge, so it would take at least as much energy as she had poured into Edgar. She felt confident though, for some reason, she was brimming with mana. [Do not strike. We arrived] There was a scent of Grevillea flowers. Gwen looked towards the egg, and then back towards the snake. “You’re a snake?” Gwen asked bewilderingly. A sentient, talking snake! “Gwen!” A voice with the cadence of archangels resonated across the cavern. Gwen looked past the serpent to see the angelic form of Instructor Alesia, garbed in a gown of fire, her hair flaming as anything, leaving behind a swarm of fireflies. She was resplendent, no wonder they call her the Scarlet Sorceress. She’s alive! Gwen cried for joy. Oh happy, happy, Day! But of course, there remained the matter of the glittery snake even now tasting the air. “The snake with you?” They both asked in tandem. Their eyes met. The snake looked at Gwen. Gwen looked at Alesia. Alesia looked at the Snake. The Snake looked at Gwen again. It hissed.

A salmon pink tongue, forked and quick as a whistle, darted from the serpent's lip-sheath as it hissed. “It's not with you, Alesia?” Gwen intoned carefully. “It's not with me. No,” her instructor affirmed warily, drifting a few feet away from the snake, keeping a safe distance in case it decided to no longer be so amiable. [Friend?] Its breath was eucalyptus after the rain. “Friend,” Gwen said out loud, glancing up toward the snake, and then at Alesia. “Yes.” Alesia’s brilliant eyes refracted the light from her flaming hair. “I am your friend, Gwen.” “I meant the snake.” Gwen’s eyes moved between the two. “It’s friendly, I think?” Friendly?! Alesia spluttered. That thing just took out half the Royal National! On her fly-in, she could see kilometres of catastrophic damage, carved like channels into the landscape. If that was its idea of friendly, what would it do if it were hostile? “How did you call the Snake here?” Alesia enquired. Gwen shifted her gaze to the egg beside her, as did Alesia. [Protect!] The snake began to move, sliding its body down the slope effortlessly, making for the centre of the chamber. Gwen stepped back, avoiding the loosened debris. Alesia drifted downwards, following the serpent, wary of its alien intention. The pair watched as the snake slithered toward the stone egg, fascinated by the manner in which it unhinged its jaws to wholly encompass the menhir. 'Crack!' There was a sound of splintered stone as the bottom of the egg broke from the floor. The snake then hoisted the egg, which must have weighed several tons, into its fleshy maw. It swallowed. The egg slid into the creature’s undulating oesophagus, after which it reconnected its lower jaws. Bit by bit, the egg moved past serpent's neck and gullet, shrinking until its torso was as flat as it had ever been. [Safe keeping.] Again, the serpent's thoughts were accompanied by synaesthesia, this time the salty brine of the southern sea. Then, to their surprise, it coiled unto itself, lowering its head until it was almost at eye level with Gwen. Alesia promptly placed herself between Gwen and the serpent, shielding her student with her fiery form. [Up.] Its glare was the midday sun. Gwen regarded the helpful serpent: mount it? Ride it? She looked towards Alesia, who was equally clueless. Either way, they couldn't lollygag in the cavern forever. “Instructor, Debora is still unconscious.” Gwen pointed to her friend’s body still upon the table, where the only sign of her still being alive was the faint movement of her chest. “Can you help her?” “Maybe we should get you out first.” “I’ve got a ride.” Gwen turned back to the serpent, admiring its immensity. In such proximity, she felt a resonate kinship. Unconsciously, she extended her hand and patted the snake’s snout. Though its scales glistened wetly with a petrol sheen of prismatic chroma, the texture felt akin to fingernails: smooth, dry, and unexpectedly warm, like touching hot sand at the beach. “Gwen! What are you doing!” Alesia spluttered, beyond alarmed. Stupid girl! That's a mythic level beast! Not a riding drake! She could see it now, the Serpent enraging, growing instantly to a length of twenty kilometres, smashing the both of them into smithereens. But Alesia was glad to be proven wrong. Without incident, Gwen persisted in climbing on top of the creature, shimming her body forward until she could grip onto two protruding scales close to the snake’s head. “…” Alesia was reminded of another one of her Master's advice: expect the unexpected; watch, then speak, not before. The snake rose into the air, its body levitating soundlessly, slithering with incredulous dexterity and balance through the chasm until it reached the top, laying its head flat against the cliff’s edge. Alesia watched as Gwen slid off the creature, back onto solid ground. [It is done.] The cavern filled with the sound of shifting sand. Gwen touched the serpent again. Its eyes had that distinct, single slit unique to reptiles, but the surrounding iris was a swirl of rainbow hues changing colour across a light-fantastic. Within, she saw the figure of a girl held intact within a prismatic lens. Beautiful, Gwen exhaled. The serpent's orbs were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen across two lifetimes. The salmon pink tongue extended slowly, moving towards Gwen’s face. She closed her eyes. Alesia returned, cradling Debora below her chest, secured with both arms. The tongue was as thick as Gwen’s thighs at the base, tapering until the forked split. It darted a dozen times in quick succession: tapping her hair, tasting her cheeks and caressing her chin, each touch but a split second. [Kin.] The empathic link was joyous. For a moment, Gwen saw a vision of blooming dogwood. “Gwen…” Alesia guessed at the link between the two. “Assuming it’s not hostile toward you, what does it want?” It was an answer she needed to know. In the Tower's records, only the priests of old and venerated religions, the outlandish folk that lived in the Wildlands, and specialised Creature-Conjurers, could communicate with Mythic level beings without having their minds turning the consistency of creme-fraiche. “What do you want?” Gwen asked the serpent with the effortlessness of asking when’s lunch? [Rest.] The smell of loam and earth accompanied by its flickering tongue. “It said it wants to rest,” Gwen reported to Alesia, who wore still her flaming Regalia, burning away at her mana reserves. “You sure it’s safe?” Alesia asked. She was running on fumes. The Efreet transformation was peerless - but required a vast reserve of mana to maintain its flaming phenomena. “Yes,” Gwen answered reverently. “It means us no harm.” Alesia landed beside Gwen, carrying Debora. The flames surrounding her extinguished. "WOA, Ma'am!" To Gwen’s surprise, her instructor was left stark naked, exposing dozens of cuts and scrapes, as well a purple-bruise stretching from her left hip to her right lumbar. Steam rose from Alesia's elementally tempered body, instantly evaporating any perspiration. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. “Ma’am.” Gwen's chest tightened. “W-what happened to you?” “Rough night.” Alesia gave Gwen a wry smile, materialising a red robe from a ring and wrapping herself within the silky kimono. Other items of clothing appeared, all in shades of maroon, cherry, pink and carmine. She was still in the midst of hurriedly covering her shame when the salmon pink tongue of the serpent dashed towards Alesia, who froze as it tapped her cheek. [Not Kin.] Gwen wrinkled her nose. There was a textured stench of mangroves at low tide. [Usurper.] With a flourish, Alesia reappeared in maroon trousers, a camo t-shirt, and combat boots. “Why’s it looking at me like that?” She nervously asked Gwen. She had already burnt a several months worth of Magic Items in HDMs and had no desire to consume another outfit. “It’s saying that… you’re are a usurper,” Gwen passed the snake’s sentiment toward her Instructor, she wasn’t sure what that was about either. “One sec.” Alesia gave Debora's cheeks a light slap. "No luck, we need to get her to a hospital." “Levitate!” She set the body of the young Transmuter to float. “She might still be glamoured.” Alesia placed a hand over Debora’s face and pulled open one of her eyelids. The pupil within was fully dilated, displacing Debora's amber iris. "Did you say, 'usurper'?" “Yes, Ma’am.” “I guess all humans are usurpers when it comes to these nature-types. Just make sure it stays away from us.” Alesia covered Debora's indecent body with a towel, then studied Gwen, whose hair and face was matted with dried blood. “So, you wanna tell me what happened here?” Gwen related her tale, omitting nothing that she knew, not even the part when she had sent out a bolt of darkness to cut Edgar in twain. It was about time that someone finally knew, someone she trusted and could help her decipher its mystery. "Alesia... do you know if the others are alright? If Elvia made it?" Gwen inquired with a tone full of anxious agitation. To her disappointment, Alesia shook her head. "I can tell you the basecamp is safe, but I haven't see Elvia." The pained look on her student's face made Alesia want to reach out and comfort her, but there was still a snake scenting Gwen with its forked tongue. Just as Alesia tried to assuage Gwen by suggesting she try calling the girls on her Message Device - a Message spell bloomed beside Alesia's ear. “Alesia! You still alive?” It was Jonas, her partner. “Yeah, I am fine.” “Oh thank God!” The voice choked. “Where’s the snake?” another voice inquired. "It disappeared entirely, all I am seeing are new valleys.” Alesia looked over at Gwen, who stood beside the Mythical serpent with a hand upon its snout, caressing it with the vacant expression of one stroking an oversized house cat. There was a decision to be made here, a judgement call with ramifications well beyond her ability to speculate. She had seen the damage the serpent could cause first hand, but she had also observed that it had no intent nor hostility toward humanity. If they attacked it with the full intention of destroying it, what would be the cost? What would it be like if a Mythical being decided to bring to bear all its power? Would the skies turn dark and the seas boil? Would the ground split asunder and swallow Sydney whole? Most importantly, if she was to tell her companions, tell the Tower, that this beast of times immemorial was harmless, that it would far prefer to 'rest' - who would believe her? “Alesia? You still there?” “Don’t know where the Snake is,” Alesia replied. “What’s your ETA to my loc?” “We are inbound, ETA two minutes.” “I’ll meet you outside, look for my flare.” “Ma’am?” Gwen wondered why Alesia had lied. “Can you ask the snake to hide somewhere?” Alesia demanded of her student. “I got four very serious people incoming in about a minute, and they are not going to like this at all.” Gwen turned to the serpent, who seemed to have read her intent at once. It slithered outside the cavern, its hues changing until it became transparent, fading into the night as though a wisp of air the breeze had brought in. Gwen looked down toward her hand that only a moment ago had touched the beautiful, mysterious thing, and saw that in her palm was a scale, scintillating like an opal. [Gift for Kin] The glow from the scale was that of golden wattles in full bloom. The serpent was gone, its presence erased by some force unknowable to mortals like Gwen and Alesia, fading into the dark emerald sea. “Hold on to that,” Alesia advised her apprentice-in-name. "That's going be a top-notch ingredient for a Magic Item." Gwen tucked the scale into a pocket in her cloak. They listened to the wind, making sure that the serpent was indeed gone. “Gwen, listen to me very carefully.” Alesia turned to her student, her face completely serious. “I may have just initiated something so stupid, so irrational, that if things go south, the both of us are probably looking at exile or execution.” “You have?” Gwen gagged at the unexpected turn. “When this is over, I am going to take you to see my superior. Until then, you are to speak to no one about the serpent. You have not seen it, have not felt it, you have certainly not spoken to it.” Alesia extended a hand and fired off a crimson flower. “Say nothing, understand?" Gwen nodded. The flight of Mages that landed at the mouth of the cavern came in full-fledged combat gear. In the uncertain darkness before the coming of dawn, they were four pinpoints of illumination that spontaneously grew larger, descending with terrific haste but landing like felines. In the next moment, Gwen marvelled as the men hailed Alesia with open-palmed salutes. “Ma’am!” “At ease,” Alesia dismissed them casually. The men's bodies immediately lost their rigidity. A man with dark, bushy brows and a thick mutton chop fell in beside her. “Are you alright Alesia? What happened? Wheres the snake? Are you injured?” “I could use a bit of a touch-up.” Alesia lifted her t-shirt to reveal the bruise marring her toned abdomen, looking like a purple worm writhing across her pale skin. “Do your thing, Jonas; my pots stopped working after the fifth one.” “You’re too reckless…” Jonas grimaced, carefully extending a hand. "Excuse me." “Cure Moderate Wounds!” Viridescent energy suffused Alesia’s abdomen; Gwen's instructor tensed as the regenerative itch of mending flesh tickled her bones before letting loose a long, tender breath. “Had to hold that in,” Alesia joked casually. Gwen blushed with the guilt of not having realised the extent of her instructor’s injuries, amplifying the anxiety of not know how her friends had fared. “Are the others alright?” Gwen blurted to Alesia's companions. “The students I mean, we were at the camp, near the entrance of the Zone.” “As far as I know,” one of the men, their Abjurer, replied. The British-Indian man was Taj, a stocky soldier with wet, olive skin, a neat goatee and a hawk-beak nose. "Is Elvia alright, did she make it back?" Gwen persisted, but the man shook his head. "Don't know who that is," It was Jonas, the medic, who answered Gwen. "Assuming they're fine, they'll be transported back to a Forward Operating Base." The healer then dropped to one knee to examine Debora. “Best we get this one to a hospital ASAP though,” He advised. “I can restore her here, but she’s going to need more than field-dressing. Paul, give me a hand.” Paul introduced himself to be the Conjurer-Transmuter of the group, whose job was to translocate the members via means of Shared Flight, Teleportation Circle, and Conjure Object. The unassuming, middle-aged man that reminded Gwen of an accountant. "I'll Message ahead to Sydney," the youngest of the group joined in before turning to Gwen. “B-B-Billy. It’s a p-pleasure.” “Billy stutters when he’s nervous,” Alesia apologised to Gwen. “Why are you nervous Bill?” “S… she… er…” Billy pointed to the visible gap between Gwen's robe. Gwen pulled Edgar's cloak tightly around her chest. “Oh…” Alesia felt like an idiot. She had neglected to offer Gwen a pair of shirt and shorts. “Attention!” Alesia commanded, and the four stood ramrod straight. “About face!” The men turned, looking outward toward the newly minted landscape of the Royal National Frontier. From her Storage Ring, Alesia materialised casual items of clothing for Gwen. “They're dead if they peep, so get changed.” Gwen struggled into her new clothes, discretely transferring the scale into a pack pocket. Alesia knelt to make sure Debora was decent for transportation. “I'll take the cloak, we’ll send it in for analysis." Gwen handed over Edgar's robe. “At ease,” Alesia said after a minute or so, and the men turned to see to their surprise, a girl very nearly the height of Alesia, if not a little taller. “H-H-Hello.” If anything, Billy's stutter had worsened. “Come on Bill,” Taj joked with a lopsided grin. “It's not like you haven't used your Scrying for less than honorable purposes. That's what you Diviners do, ain't it?” “Hey!” Alesia barked at the unruly soldier. "Leave him alone." Billy’s eyes were moving between the ground and Gwen alternatively. “What's Billy's job?” Gwen sidled closer to Alesia. “Communications specialist…” Alesia said without a hint of sarcasm. "Two years out of Defence Force Academy." Paul, Billy and Taj stayed behind to inspect the ritual, or at least what had remained of it. Jonas meanwhile, offered to escort Alesia, Gwen and the comatose Debora toward a Forward Operations Base set up midway between the Shield Fort and their original base camp. “You flew before?” Gwen shook her head. “You’ll love it.” Alesia smiled encouragingly. “Just hold on tight.” “Ready?” Paul asked, then opened his gate to the Elemental Plane of Air. “Shared Flight!” “Be safe!” Taj called out to Alesia. “No detours! Please!” Gwen felt an uplifting current suffuse her surroundings, not in the manner of a breeze about one’s body, but a sense of buoyancy. As they rose into the air, she realised she had underestimated magical flight. There was no feeling of texture, of inertia or resistance. Instead, she floated - and immediately began to summersault uncontrollably. Two revolutions later, Alesia grabbed Gwen’s hand and stabilised her tumbling. Gwen had the feeling that the moment her instructor let go, she would float away like a child's balloon. "Let's go!" The sudden acceleration filled Gwen with instant dizziness. Her body was screaming to be back on solid ground. "Oh!" Gwen inhaled a briny breath of morning air. She was seeing for the first time, the curvature of her new world.

A marigold disk signalled summer sunrise, diffusing a perpetual splendour across the curvature of the eastern coast. To Gwen’s right was The Coastal Trail, where the emerald bush gave way to jagged ochre rocks awash with foam, assailed by milky white shoals of water that frothed like milk against ochre cliffs. The South Pacific extended beyond, changing hue from aqua to ultramarine, then suddenly dropping off into the dark depth of the continental shelf. To her left were sundered hills and muddy lakes, the aftermath of the Mythic's passing, leaving behind bleeding canals of upturned earth. Even now, trees toppled into newly formed ravines, moved by underground reservoirs emerging from the pressure of crushed sandstone crumbling in hidden caverns. Elvia. Yue. Everyone- Gwen wasn't sure whether it was the anxiety making her nauseous, or the vertigo of flying a hundred meters freely through the air. Did Elvia make it? Her mind churned with distress, not even the adrenaline of weaving through altitudes high and low could distract her mind. “Alesia… do you think…” Gwen tried to speak, but her voice was barely audible against the blustering cacophony of moving air. A Message spell bloomed beside her ear. “I am activating a Private Message spell.” Alesia’s voice resonated in her ear. “What’s wrong Tiger?” “I am worried about Elvia, and the others,” Gwen replied, noting the spell was two-way. Her schools' device was a simple thing, incapable of complex Divination algorithms. Alesia squeezed Gwen’s hand reassuringly, hoping it would relieve some of Gwen's stress. Unconsciously, the duo accelerated, Alesia's uncertainty feeding more mana into the Flight spell. The boost solicited a curious glance from Jonas, who then matched their new velocity. “Gwen, I know you are worried about the girls, but you must also consider your circumstances,” Alesia replied solemnly. “Promise me that you will tell no one, not even the girls, about the serpent, and about your new elemental abilities, it will only put them in danger.” Gwen observed the weight behind Alesia's proposal. “I promise,” she answered her Instructor. Hovering beside her protegè, Alesia mulled over troubling thoughts of her own. Though the crisis at hand appeared resolved; it had left them far more questions than their resolution could provide. Alesia recalled that, in final moments of her encounter, the Mythic had possessed little to no interest in making further ingress towards the city. Instead, it had withdrawn toward Gwen's last location. In hindsight, Alesia guessed that it probably had something to do with Gwen wounding the Mage who called himself Edgar. As for what Edgar's part, the ritual provided a clue. In so far as sealing mandalas went, the ceremony was elaborate, requiring esoteric knowledge of the arcane spellcraft. Then there was the fact that wounded Mage had escaped while missing half his body and two of his limbs. A Teleportation Contingency Ring set to one’s vital signs was beyond precious. Alesia had one herself, though she disliked equipping it for the reason that once triggered, it took her out of combat and back into the Tower. As Efreet Form drained her vitality, it would be ludicrous if she Teleported away at the initiation of a Firestorm. That was why she preferred Contingency Healing Rings and single-use items like the Dimension Door Gem. Additionally, the price of a Ring with a Contingency trigger tied to a long-range Teleport would cost just over five thousand HDMs, enough to buy a building in the heart of Sydney's CBD. Ironically, that wasn’t even the worst of it, for there were very few Enchanters in the world capable of creating such an item. For both Alesia's and her brother-in-craft, their Contingency Rings were heirloom objects brought over from Europe. A Mage in possession of such a thing, therefore, couldn't be just anyone. Finally, there was Faceless - but what was the terrorist like him doing in a place like this? Was he after her? Was he involved in the serpent's rampage? There were too many unanswerable questions assailing Alesia at once, though for now, an additional problem stabbed at her bosom. How would her Master receive the kitten she just picked up? The basecamp came into view. Now bathed in the light of dawn, the destruction wrought by the prior night became self-evident. The bunker had collapsed like a crushed tent; its iron supports bent and twisted. The main building, where the instructors had last met, was being excavated by what looked to be AMSA Engineers. The trio landed: Alesia and Jonas gracefully, Gwen with a heavy thump that jarred her knees. A Mage in a fluoro high-vis vest splintered from the group to intercept them. He was hailed by Jonas, who lifted a flap in his jacket to reveal an emblem. The scowl of bureaucratic annoyance on the Mage's face immediately turned into a look of wariness. "Greetings," the Mage wrung his hands before managing a 'Sir!' nervously. "Foremen, give me a sit-rep," Jonas was a different person when not talking to Alesia, Gwen noticed. "The excavation's almost done," the Foremen replied. "But there are bodies down there. We're waiting for the Coroners." "Bodies?" Gwen's voice quivered. "What bodies, whose is it?" The Foreman eyeballed the teenage girl, challenging her presence before meeting Jonas' eyes. "Let's take a walk." Jonas tiled his head to their left. The two then moved towards the excavation site. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Gwen wanted to follow, though a tug from Alesia obstructed her. "No." Her Instructor's hand was firm. "You don't need to see this." "But..." Gwen felt her stomach knotting. "Sergeant Boone... Mr Thomas, and Mr Dylan..." “I am sorry," Alesia insisted, her hand like a vice grip. She already felt guilty that Gwen had dealt with Edgar. In the future, as a Combat Mage, the girl may very well become familiar with the morbid reality of mangled corpses - as for now, she would prefer a less damaged protégé. Despite Alesia's best intentions, however, Gwen struggled to reconcile with the reality in front of her. These teachers had taught her for half a year! She knew them by names, their idiosyncratic quirks, their mannerism, their likes and dislikes! Mr Boone liked to talk about his military days; Mr Thomas owned two cats; Mr Dylan had a fiancee- "Don't you want to find out if Yue and the others are safe?" Alesia demanded mercilessly. Gwen nodded. "Then let us find out." They rose into the air again. "Your friends should be safe by now at the F.O.B.” Jonas caught up with them a few minutes later. "Alesia..." He consulted his partner. "You can tell her, Jonas," Alesia asserted. "She's a strong girl." "Four dead,” Jonas declared gravely. "Boone, Evans, Thomas, Dylan." “Five," Gwen added after a moment of silence. Alesia saw that the girl's knuckles were white with tension. Gwen was right, of course. Alesia recalled the mangled body of Mr Crusoe. "Five," Alesia confirmed. "Crusoe's still somewhere out in the woods." "Jesus." Jonas spat, taking another gander at Gwen. "Were they after the kids?" "Probably." Alesia did not want to reveal any more to her partner before she had a chance to speak to her Master. Jonas nodded and said no more. His leader was evidently in an evasive mood. They flew in silence until the sea of emerald came to an abrupt halt. Below, the landscape transformed into the low, stunted shrubbery of the tablelands. In the distance, they could make out the F.O.B. About two kilometres out, an Aerial Mage unit in digital combat jackets and winged jackboots intercepted the trio. Again, Jonas opened a flap on his coat; after which they were allowed to pass. Gwen scanned the camp until she found a spot where dozens of humanoid dots in black, white and grey tartan congregated. “I see them!” she uttered breathlessly. "I'll drop you off." Gwen's urgent desire to be immediately amongst her friends brought a smile to Alesia's lips. "Jonas, can you take Debora to the triage centre?” Jonas withdrew without complaint. When Gwen and Alesia alighted in the yard, they became surrounded by a ring of students whose faces were livid with excitement. "Oh my God! Did you see that?" "She flew in!" "I wish I could fly." "You'd have to be a Transmuter!" "Wow, instructor Alesia looks amazing as usual. " "Is that Gwen?!" "Ergh, there she goes, stealing the Daylight." An abrupt loathing for her peers engendered in Gwen's chest. Don't they think of anyone but themselves? Your friend, Debora almost died! Your Instructors lie mangled underneath concrete slabs! "GWEN!" The voices she had desired to hear more than anything for the last twelve hours echoed across the levelled dirt of the temporary base. "Evee! Yue!" Gwen broke from Alesia to dart past a crowd of stickybeaking students. "Ah! My face!" "She stepped on me!" "That bitch!" The girls meet one another halfway. Three at last! Three at last! Gwen's heart soared. "All for one!" She exclaimed in a moment of uncontrollable jubilance. "We missed you so much!" Yue was hugging Gwen's waist and pushing her head into her bosoms. "Holy SHIT, I was so worried! Elvia told me what happened, that you tried to save her, and you fought that Crusoe FUCKER alone!" Elvia was no longer in control of her emotions, tears the size of sultanas falling from her luminous blue eyes, "I am sorry Gwen... sob... sob... I ran away... I ran away Gwen... I was scared... " "Oh, Evee... it was the right thing to do. I would have been in greater danger if you hadn't gone!" The three of them squeezed into a crushing huddle. "What happened to Debora?" Elvia asked between her choking sobs. The euphoric moment deflated. "She'll be okay," Gwen muttered. She hoped to God the healing magic of this world could mend lightning strikes. “I’ll be back for you in the evening,” Alesia shouted over the din of squealing teenagers. Gwen waved to her Instructor, wanting to say another word of thanks before she left. Instead, her Instructor's ultramarine eyes reminded her to say nothing. Taking to the air, Alesia flew toward the command tent, worshipped by supplicating students cooing at the incredulous sight of superhuman flight. With the spectacle over, the girls retired to the limited privacy of temporary shelters that had been set up by Army Engineers. The trio entered a tent where Bunks were placed four by a dozen, with heavy curtains dividing each section. “How did you escape that horrid Mage?” Elvia asked, her eyes puffy and swollen. “Did you… did you…” “Instructor Alesia saved me,” Gwen told a technical-truth. “I saw that titanic battle in the sky between Alesia and the Snake!” Yue began excitedly. “Did you see it, Gwen? It was incredible.” “I was pretty deep in the woods by that point.” Gwen wracked her brains for salient timestamps. “I could only see the fireworks over the tree lines.” “It was incredible!” Yue continued as if she was the one that had confronted the Serpent, describing in detail spell after spell, only a few of which Gwen had heard of before. “What about you Evee?” Gwen asked, wondering how her friend had fared after their separation. “I ran the way we came…” Elvia recounted. “I saw your lightning spell go on and on, so I ran as far as I could until I saw Yue’s fireworks back in the clearing.” “Anyone tried to stop you?” Elvia shook her head, sending out flailing strands of flaxen hair. “There were a few Goblins and some other magical beasts who were trying to flee the Snake, but they left me alone.” “We must have wracked up another hundred or so kills.” Yue beamed proudly. “The officer who saved us told me that we had done well and that we’re going to be commended for our bravery. My very first medal, Gwen!” “Did you find any of the Instructors?” Elvia cut in suddenly, “Mr Crusoe turned out to be that evil Mage, does that mean…” Gwen felt a pang of guilt, though her friends were old enough to face the truth. “Alesia said Mr C was dead long before we met Evil Crusoe…” Gwen answered with a tone of forlorn sadness. “As for the others… Mr Dylan, Mr Thomas, Mr Boone, and Mr Evans; they found their remains in the main building.” “…” “…” With that, conversation died. Elvia dug her face into Gwen's chest, wracked with quiet sobs. Yue stared at the ceiling, her thoughts unknowable. The three of them laid in one bunk, quietly observing the slow rotation of a whirlybird as it pumped out the rising heat of their bodies. Elvia was the first to fall asleep, her constitution too weak to sustain a night and a day of activity and distress. Yue likewise shut her eyes, the tension of Gwen’s absence displaced at last. Gwen looked up at the ceiling, where the scaffolding expanded like a spider web across the rectangular canvas, thinking of Alesia’s warning, and the uncertain future ahead. Was this a regular event in this world, or was it a one-off catastrophe? In her old world, she had experienced, on television, the horrors of September 11, though as a Sydney-sider, the precipitous moment of 21st-century history had felt unreal, more akin to a movie. Likewise, she had known no violence. Sydney was a haven of middle-class mediocrity. No mass-shootings, no serial murderers, no mass-poverty and virtually no violent crimes beyond the occasional domestic dispute. Until today, the idea of someone she knew suddenly dying was something that had never occurred to her. Gwen realised she had never experienced the death of someone she knew in any private capacity: not a family member, nor a friend, nor someone in her social orbit. Now suddenly, five teachers who had taught her for half a year suddenly ceased to be; gone, disappeared, evaporated into thin air for no reason, no particular purpose nor goal. They had not died for some grand act, they had not died to save their students, or made a last stand. They died randomly, purposelessly, became collateral. Would her death be the same? Gwen wondered. A chance encounter with malevolence - then no more? Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow, then nought but a dusty death? Gwen's eyes grew heavy, mesmerised by the whirlybird's ceaseless rotation, closing slowly until the undertow of troubled sleep took her.

Alesia returned to find the girls sharing a meal of military rations for supper, feeling the unspeakable texture of mystery meat caressing their revolted taste buds. Even in a world of Spellcraft, rations remained optically unrecognisable nutritional sludge. “You want in on the Officer’s mess?” Alesia laughed when Gwen told her that she had just eaten a meat pie in liquid form. “We had a three-course meal, choice of steak, fish, or chicken, all Wildland cuts.” The girls were indeed interested. Alesia promised to send them something nice at her earliest opportunity. “I am going to have to borrow Gwen for a few days, a week tops,” Alesia then informed Yue and Elvia. “Gwen has seen too much, so we’re going to have to brainwipe her.” “What!” Elvia leapt from her bunk. “She’s joking Evee, yeesh…” Yue pulled Elvia down. “You're joking, right?” Alesia chuckled. Full of uncertainty, the girls awkwardly reciprocated the mirth. “I promise you Gwennie will be fine,” Alesia stated, glancing at Gwen. Gwennie? Gwen made a face. Am I a stray cat? “When do we leave?” Gwen asked. “How about now?” Gwen looked over toward her friends, who both possessed expression suggesting they weren't ready to be parted so soon. “Is tomorrow possible?” Gwen guiltily requested of Alesia. “Sure, I’ll make the arrangements with Paul, he'll appreciate the rest.” “Thank you, Ma’am," Gwen answered gratefully. Alesia casually dismissed Gwen's gratitude. “Your school is going to have some major disruptions as the new Instructors come in, so expect to stay home or at your dorms over the next few weeks.” The three inclined their heads. By now the news of the Instructors who had perished had spread, extinguishing the gleeful, come what may attitude of the cohort. “See you tomorrow!” As the night crept in, the girls pushed their bunks together and again slept side by side, feeling safer for the familiar company. Jun and Henley came to visit, thanking Yue profusely for taking charge of the chaotic situation. Their Diviner had yet to recover from the cataclysmic event, his happy-go-lucky lustre succumbing instead to a numbing depression. Jun himself likewise took on a stoic air, assuming an attitude that was no longer convivial. Unlike the girls in First Year, the boys would have their final exams in three months, after which they would be graduating. With all future Field Trips cancelled or delayed, their military commissions were no longer guaranteed. After the boys said their goodbyes, the girls turned to their futures, speculative as it may be at the given moment. “I am sticking with the military track,” Yue declared after organising her thoughts. “We all have to enrol as soon as we turn sixteen anyway, so I am going to apply for an officer cadetship position.” Gwen wondered if she should inform Yue about Alesia’s intentions, though she knew better than to run her mouth. Her bombastic companion then boasted she was approached by several recruiters who had drawn for her a lovely pie in the sky. “That’s awesome,” Elvia congratulated her friend. Unlike her peers, she would be enrolled at the Sydney Arcane University to study medicine and the healing arts. Upon graduation, she would serve two years under the Royal Army Medical Corps, after which she was free to pursue specialisation. “What about you Gwen? You could join me in the military! You know what they'd call us?” Yue’s eyes were full of anticipation. Oh God, Gwen grimaced. "The... Dynamic Duo?" "You're damn right!" When it was Gwen's turn, she found herself lost for words. In truth, she had no idea what she wanted to do beyond gaining more proficiency in Spellcraft. Join the military? Gwen felt no particular adversity toward killing magical beasts, but if they had to fight other human beings - people like Edgar, there was little chance she could stomach such a thing. If anything, a job where she could take advantage of her old world knowledge in enterprise or administration would be ideal. At the thought of fighting other human beings, a vision of Edgar's stumps squirting in tune his beating heart paralysed her lips. She could taste the saltiness of his iron blood dashing like hot lead over her face. Nausea washed over her like a tide as the violent synaesthesia came and went. "Gwen, are you alright? You're white as a sheet!" A dose of Elvia's Positive Energy dispelled the hollowness in Gwen's bosoms, restoring her breath to a normal cadence. With both arms, Gwen enveloped her flaxen mascot, warmed by Elvia's angelic presence while simultaneously haunted by the inevitable separation their futures would bring. “Alright, its fired up.” Paul finished linking the last of the glyphs after expending the requisite volume of HDMs to light up the Teleportation Circle, brushing crystalline dust from his trousers. “Have a safe trip, you two.” The Circle activated. The world flashed cobalt and silver. There was a feeling of being lurched through something concurrently tangible, yet immaterial, followed by a sudden displacement, akin to falling in a dream. The last thing Gwen saw was Yue and Elvia waving their hands at her, then in the next moment, she was in a dark room filled with arcane scripts and wards, glowing that pale blue-white glow of Conjuration. A taste of sour bile filled her mouth. “Still in one piece Tiger?” Alesia asked. “Didn’t accidentally leave behind anything did you?” “I am fine…” Gwen replied, swallowing discretely, then patting herself down to ensure that nothing was indeed amiss. In her old world, Teleportation was nigh-impossible. Spatial displacement ran into all kinds of problems from quantum physics, energy paradoxes, loss of mass, as well as the intellectually morbid idea of continuous death and rebirth. According to Alesia’s description though, the spell wasn't teleportation in the literal sense, but a kind of wormhole movement achieved by creating a jump through the fabric of the Prime Material Plane - their world - and the Astral Plane. “Where are we?” Gwen realised she should have asked before they had left. Alesia simply said that they were going to see her Master, but Gwen had no idea as to their destination. “Well, right now we’re in my apartment,” Alesia coaxed her to follow. “We need to be a little more formal where we’re going.” A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. They exited a chamber akin to a set piece from some mad wizard’s dungeon. Past the heavy iron door, Gwen was surprised to find themselves in a penthouse overlooking Sydney Harbour. The scene was familiar, for Gwen had seen the same view from an adjacent cove - that of her uncle's manor. “Bradfield Park?” Gwen announced, surprising herself by identifying all of the landmarks. “We’re back in Sydney?” “Yep.” Alesia went by the glass facade of the open kitchen and popped the fridge, pouring herself a glass of water before motioning the jug at Gwen, who declined. “Nothing like a well-enchanted network of Teleportation Circles. Expensive to use, of course, but very convenient.” “But…” Gwen felt her mind reeling. They were four hours away by bus! Two hundred kilometres in an instant! Gwen had seen how many crystals Paul had to burn. It was enough to keep her training for a month! All that to save six hours? She made her incredulous discovery known to Alesia, who laughed, spilling a little water. “Oh Gwen, what you call 'resource' is chump change at our tiers,” she informed Gwen jovially. “Our stipend alone is about ten thousand LDMs a month, or four hundred HDMs, give or take. If I were in a tier 1 city, my pay would double.” Gwen flushed with embarrassment, feeling like an Amish rustic enquiring about motorised transport. Beside her, Alesia walked toward the panoramic vista of the harbour, her lovely face framed in the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling panes. “Look, you can see your Uncle’s house just around the bay.” Gwen joined Alesia at the window, feeling more nostalgic than impressed. Her North Shore office at Milson's Point shared the eastern portion of the same cove. Though the buildings were different, the landscape itself remained the same. “When Bartlett called me, I was standing right here. For a while, I entertained the notion of dropping in from the sky. But the CBD has airspace restrictions, so I ended up taking the car.” “Thanks again for saving me, Ma'am.” "Ah, don't mention it," Alesia grinned. She drew past the windows with the ease of a dancer, gesturing for Gwen to follow her up to the second level. Above, marble tiles gave way to darkly stained spotted-gum. Alesia’s bedroom was huge; its walk-in-closet was bigger than Gwen’s bedroom. The grandiose luxury was dizzying, more so because Gwen had previously achieved the same strata of wealth. Now returned to her teenage poverty, the good life felt as out of reach to her as the shimmering waters of Lavender Bay below. Alesia removed a few outfits from a closet that was a dozen segments deep, then began sorting them by style, storing spares in her spatial ring. “Find whatever fits and put it on, something semi-formal,” she advised. “Where are we going again?” “A sombre and solemn place where people have a stick up their arse,” Alesia cautioned her student. “We're going to see my Master. He's a stickler for dress code. Say's it shows sincerity.” Gwen uncomfortably sifted through Alesia’s wardrobe. Almost everything was red, leaving her with scarce choices for subtlety. Her Instructor opted for a maroon, high waisted pencil skirt paired with a dark sleeveless cotton top. Gwen herself took on a vermillion-tartan bell-skirt and a white blouse with pan-collars and flared sleeves; finished with a pair of black heels. “You’re a natural!” Alesia commended Gwen for walking in four-inch heels without tripping herself. "Well done!" “I've always had good balance,” Gwen tactfully acknowledged her Instructor's praise. After makeup, the duo returned to the Teleportation Circle. Once inside, Gwen watched Alesia fiddling with the glyphs until the circle once more lit up with the silver-blue light of Conjuration. “When we arrive, there’s going to be some very unpleasant people. Stay cool, and stay behind me.” The circle flared; they were suddenly elsewhere. Instructor and student materialised on a dark obsidian platform, framed by a well-lit ceiling. The interior of their immediate surroundings consisted of geometric decor extending in every direction, beginning a network of corridors. There was a sterile, hospital-like ambience about the place, so quiet that Gwen could hear herself breathe. Two guards, jackbooted and attired in ivory, approached from a guard station overlooking the Teleportation Circle. “Major De Botton,” One of them furrowed his brow at Gwen. “Ma’am, your companion is unauthorised for access." The other accosted them. “I know that.” Alesia squinted at the man’s breast badge. “Cadet Edwards.” “Please hand her over to us for quarantine.” One of the guards moved to take Gwen's arm, only to be checked by Alesia, who placed herself between Gwen and the sentries. “I need to see Magister Kilroy.” “Do you have an appointment, Major De Botton?” “No, do I need one?” “I am afraid so, Major.” Alesia snapped her fingers and sent a Silent Message to her Master. “Master, I am here, and I have brought the anomaly,” she spoke to the air. Though her mouth moved, the others heard no sound. In the next moment, a Message spell bloomed beside the guard’s ear. The sentries regarded one another before turning to face the two women. “Proceed to platform five,” the guard named Edwards stated with suppressed impatience. “The Magister will see you now.” Gwen cluelessly followed Alesia and their two escorts. Edwards kept glancing at her curiously, ogling her legs, while the other remained deeply critical of their presence. The foursome soon mounted a Levitation Station. Without a sound, it began to drift, travelling through the lattice network of corridors and platforms that to Gwen, appeared to extend forever. They were ascending rapidly, Gwen deduced when her ears popped. At the apex, their platform docked onto an open terrace. The only notable decor was a set of double doors in stained oak, intricately carved with leaves and vines, with a garland of laurels meeting at the apex. The threshold resembled a portal to another world, somewhere far removed from the human artifice of the city. Narnia? Gwen wondered. She could no longer be surprised. Alesia took Gwen’s hand protectively in her own, then moved toward the door, giving the guards the cold shoulder as she did so. With equal disregard, the guard descended. “Walken's dogs!” Alesia swore cattily. “Told you they had a stick up their arse.” “Where are we?” Gwen asked for the third time. “You’re about to find out, feel free to ask him yourself.” The double doors parted as though on cue, swing aside with a classic yawn and creak. As the portal opened, the sterile light became bathed in a warm, iridescent glow. Gwen's jaw fell as a scent of evening star jasmine enveloped their surrounding. Past the threshold, the expectant rigidity of floor gave way to the soft depression of rich loam, burying her thin heels. She watched Alesia remove her shoes, then followed suit, feeling the turf between her toes like a fine fleece. “Impossible…” Gwen mouthed, her eyes protesting the impossible splendour. They were no longer in some office building, but an elfin grot, covered from ceiling to floor in viridescent mosses, grasses, and small white flowers. In the middle of a natural atrium was a set of furniture consisting of a modest bed, a table for four, transmuted wooden chairs, and rows upon rows of bookshelves formed from the walls itself. From the ceiling, globes hung like fruits, diffusing a gentle light. “Alesia… is this paradise?” “… Not exactly.” Alesia giggled, her face full of expectation of what's to come. “Here is what you call a Pocket Dimension.” Gwen breathed in the fecund air, drunk on the surplus of oxygen. "Oh!" Suddenly, a pair of hands, rigid and smooth, place themselves on her shoulders. From behind Gwen came a pleasant scent of incense cedar. She turned, finding herself facing an exquisitely beautiful face, impossibly perfect, possessing twin irises in the form of amber crystals. A giantess now held Gwen captive, a woman in flowing robes of moving bark, barely covering a pair perky, sculpted breasts narrowing into a wasp’s waist, supported by long, anatomically impossible stems. Upon closer inspection, Gwen noted with dismay that it was her face which stared back at her, though the creature had made herself sickening perfect, a product of wishful fantasy. “That’s Sufina,” Alesia introduced the woodland Sprite. “She’s Master’s nanny.” “Greetings,” Sufina intoned. The voice, Gwen noted, did not issue from her lips. Instead, it reverberated from the walls. “She… she’s a… tree-being?” Gwen wanted to say Monster, Magical Creature. She caught herself, however. Anyone would be upset if a stranger carelessly called them an animal. "I am a Dryad, a Spirit-Kin." Sufina lifted her hands from Gwen's shoulders, then effortlessly strode across the room on stiletto-like legs, floating about the place with supernatural grace. Taking a cup from a cupboard, she returned to Gwen a moment later. “Sit. Drink." Caught in a midsummer night's dream, Gwen obediently sat on one of the wooden stools. Sufina materialised several oaken mugs of golden liquid and a basket of dark brown bread, along with a block of floral butter. “Treat yourself,” Alesia recommended expertly. “It’s not every day you get to eat Dryad produce fresh off the teat.” “I am sorry?” Gwen looked at Alesia with a shocked expression, glancing at Sufina's outrageous chest. “Off the what?” Alesia knocked back her mug of golden liquid. “Oh! That hits the spot. Gwen, you gotta try it.” Gwen took the cup in her hand, then gingerly drank. The liquid was thick, viscous, more akin to sap with a hint of floral honey. It was restorative ambrosia, formed of mana and vitality. She took a second sip; the fatigue of last night peeled from her body like old bark off a sprouting gumtree. “I am glad you like it.” Gwen looked up from her golden mead to see an old man with a trim white beard wearing an olive tweed jacket and a maroon vest. His face was weathered and worn, with a pronounced scar across the right of his temple nearly touching his right eye, bisecting powerful, prominent brows. As he came closer, Gwen noted the gent’s cheeks were sallow, hinting at a fragility that his straight and well-poised body betrayed. “That Golden Mead, it’s all that’s keeping me alive these days.” “Master,” Alesia curtsied, then lowered her head. "This is Gwen Song." Gwen stood, then curtsied, then bowed, then stood awkwardly, her thin legs turning to noodles. “So - you're the anomaly.” The old man's iron voice filled the cavern. “Gwen.” Alesia’s reverence rose to a crescendo. “I give you Lord Henry Kaine Foster Kilroy, Magister and Master of the Ordo Arcanum Oceania!”

“I think you overdid it a bit Alesia; I sound like a Mermen God-King or something.” “You said to make an impressive first-impression!” “Now you're just being manipulative.” “Well, it’s too late now, she's very impressed by the looks of it, look at her, I think her knees are buckling.” “Sufina seems to like her. She's even taken on the girl's likeness. Any ideas? The only other person she’s ever taken to was you.” A quick exchange via Silent Message took place between Alesia and her Master while Gwen stared with doe-eyed worship at Henry Kilroy, star-struck by the title of 'Magister'. A Magister! She had once met the infamous cabbage, John Howard, at a barbeque in Kirribilli, and she'd only felt remotely bedazzled. But a Magister was no Prime Minister. Here was a Mage capable of tapping into three Schools of Magic, and whose proficiency of each school had reached a profound mastery. Barring a Meisterhood, something akin to a Nobel Prize, the title of Magister was the highest honour possible for a mortal Mage. A Magistership was the end game; an apex exemplar of Spellcraft. If Gwen was the base-stone at the foot of a pyramid; Magister Kilroy was the gold marking its granite cap. “Its a pleasure to meet you, Magister,” Gwen intoned with the reverence of an altar boy ministered by the Pope. "I am... honoured..." She wanted to say something profound, but her gift of gab had been stunned into silence. For a second, Gwen wondered if the man gave out autographs. "Hahaha, the girl's too startled to speak!" A sound of trilling laughter broke Gwen's moment of religious epiphany. Sufina once again appeared beside Gwen, now taking a liking to Gwen’s hair. With stiletto like fingers, the Sprite deftly braided Gwen's waist-length locks, cooing in pleasure as she twirled Gwen's dark curls. “Likewise, Miss Song,” the Magister replied, his tone even-tempered and unperturbed. The elderly Mage motioned cooly with a hand. Gwen marvelled as one of the chairs moved to meet him. Upon closer inspection, Gwen realised the chair was being grown from the floor space! It was a living thing! Kilroy sat. Then was suddenly sent off balance when the chair continued to move, sending him stumbling backwards. “Master!” Alesia rushed to Kilroy's aid, afraid that her venerable teacher would topple over and break a hip. Thankfully, a low stool sprouted from the ground and caught Henry before he lost his balance. “Sufina, focus.” Henry's voice grew wary with annoyance. "We are before guests." The stool morphed into an elaborate throne. Wow, Gwen averted her eyes. To think chairs could be used to convey sarcasm. “…” Henry sighed. “That is why you never spoil your Familiars,” Alesia transcribed the awkward demonstration for Gwen, dispelling the serious air previously built by Henry's entry. “You try to impress, but your Familiar trips you because she didn’t like your tone.” “Lord Kilroy?” Gwen attempted to reinvigorate the moment of solemnity to no avail. The magic was long gone. “Just 'Sir' will do, or Magister,” Kilroy replied in a way that reminded Gwen of Alesia, making the exact motion of waving his hands offhandedly to indicate the desire for ease. “So, let's get down to business, I may not look like it, but I am a busy man.” “Busy napping,” Alesia undermined her doting Master with a mischievous smile. "Gwen, don't be scared. He's a harmless old codger, albeit a useful one." Sufina giggled, the Dryad's laughter sending tremors through the Grot. “…” Henry’s face was a map of helpless annoyance. On his wizened face, Gwen saw a doting father long given up on trying to educate his wayward daughters. “See, this is why Gunther will always be my favourite,” the old man lamented. "He listens!" “Hmmph!” Alesia pouted. So even the mighty Alesia De Botton could be adorable, Gwen suppressed a secret smile. The interaction between her and her master was both paternal and admirable. The Magister refocused his attention on Gwen. “Gwen.” Henry's tone returned to one of solemnity. “Alesia has told me about your condition. I suppose we are here to decide what's to be done.” “Sir?” Gwen swallowed. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” "Yes, Magister." Sans her otherworldly origins, Gwen told the Magister all that she knew: her strange nightmare, her awakening, her vertigo and fatigue. She spoke about her experiences in the Cognisance Chamber, the training she had undergone. She then recounted her encounter with Edgar, what he had tried to do to her, and the discovery of the dark element that seemed to drain her life-force. “…and the serpent?” The Magister enquired once Gwen had finished. Gwen looked toward Alesia, who nodded encouragingly. Gwen recounted what she could. When she stated that she awoke from a state of near-death, restored and revitalised, the Magister’s brows raised an impressive inch. The subsequent amiability of the Mythic and the fact that she had spoken to a primordial Land God without her untempered mind imploding further fascinated the Magister. “I am afraid there aren't many answers I can give you.” Henry intoned after Gwen's tale was done. She noted the Magister had nursed a cup of Golden Mead the whole while, taking sips every so often. “But, first things first, may I see this Kirin amulet your father gave you?” Gwen began to untie the string around her neck, but the Magister stopped her. “No need to remove it. I merely wish to inspect its aura.” Gwen allowed the Core to rest against her bosom. “Identify!" "Detect Magic!" Her skin crawled as Kilroy's diagnostic magic washed over her. The Magister pursed his lips. “As I thought, no wonder Sufina has taken such a liking to you.” “Master?” Alesia inquired carefully. Henry closed his eyes, allowing the collated magic to fade. When he opened his eyes again, they were back to their steely brilliance. “The amulet is a part of something larger, for I can sense that its animus is incomplete. The materials itself is the heart-stone of something at least at an Ancient tier, below Mythic, but still very, very old. There is a capacity for the storage of spiritual Essence within the item, an entirely different form of magic altogether. For that reason, I can't tell you how the amulet works. It wasn't made with Western Spellcraft and its origins predate the Spellcraft Era. But. since it's a boon from your father, I would keep it close to your chest. Even though heirloom Magic Items may not mesh with modern Spellcraft, they may yet provide passive protection." The Magister then instructed Gwen to hide her pendant. "Of far more interest to us is the fact that I can detect the Mythic's vital energy within it, a portion of which…” Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Henry pointed towards Gwen’s heart. "… now resides in you.” Alesia rejoiced. She knew it was the right idea to come and see her Master. The old man might be getting a little senile, but he was the most authoritative figure on magical phenomena in the Arcanum. “Wha does that mean?” Gwen asked. As a novice in Spellcraft theory, half of what she had heard was non-sensical jargon. “When the Serpent said that you were its kin,” the Magister continued. “It meant that the life-force that resides within your body is its 'kin'. I suspect the 'essence' of the egg has seeped into your amulet. As for the egg itself, I can safely assume its an Indigenous Spirit Stone - said to be the discarded Core of Mythic beings that inhabit our vast brown land." “But the serpent was alive and well,” Gwen countered. "Cores come from dead Magical Creatures, don't they?" Henry took a sip from his cup, refilled by a helpful Sufina. “Mythic beings are essentially immortal, especially with serpents, pheonixes and certain species of dragons - they perish and are reborn many times, each time leaving behind something of its past. The egg you saw was something akin to shed-skin.” Gwen nodded in half-comprehension. “This brings us to our next problem.” The Magister gestured, putting the previous topic aside. “The dilemma of your association with a Mythic Class Being.” Gwen shivered under Kilroy's studied gaze. “I’ll explain.” Alesia leaned over and held Gwen’s hand, offering the girl her warmth and sympathy. “What I am about to tell you isn't going to be pleasant, but I hope you understand the position you and I are now in.” Gwen lowered her eyes, anticipating the worst. “First of all Gwen, you can commune with the Mythic, which means you are capable of influencing its actions, however trivial. That means, unfortunately for you, that you are a state asset. The ability to move a Land God is not something any government would allow to walk the streets freely.” “Next, what would happen if the Frontier Government or the Commonwealth Tower found out? Not everyone in the Tower is forgiving and slothful like Master here. Most of them are old codgers who would like nothing more than to wage another Great Purge on the coast to expand their influence. Be it the Grey Faction or the Militant Faction, either would love to lay their hands on you. If they do, there are two potential outcomes-” “One: quarantine. Keep you segregated from the rest of the world, then try to figure out a way to extract the energy from your body. After all, as Master said, it’s not Gwen Song who the creature finds kinship with, it's the Essence it was speaking to, mistaking you for a sibling or the like.” Gwen’s complexion paled. “Two: and this is the preferred option - we keep you in complete stasis and isolation. Simply put you away until such time that you are useful or no longer dangerous. The same option also includes killing you, although I doubt it. The Tower is obsessed with potential war assets.” Cold sweat permeated Gwen's torso, drenching her thin white blouse. How could this be? Had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire? Was she was going to become a specimen in a bottle? “That’s the circumstances we are looking at,” Alesia finished. “... Alesia, can you help me?” She was grasping at straws, but Gwen made the request regardless. Instinctively, she knew her freedom was entirely dependent upon the charity of the two in front of her. This time, without the need for coaxing, her brimming eyes begged for sympathy. "Henry, help her." It was Sufina who advised her Master. "Master, you have to help her," Alesia intoned as well, imploring her teacher. Three pairs of eyes, hazel, ultramarine, and glowing amber, shifted swimmingly toward the Lord Magister of Sydney Tower. Henry Kaine Foster Kilroy, Lord Magister of the Oceanian Tower, knew he was now at a crossroad. The pragmatic outcome was obvious, but Henry had seen enough dilemmas play out poorly to trust the inhuman arithmetic of logic. After all, had he not taken on Alesia against all advice, twenty years ago? That impulsive decision had saved tens of thousands of lives, gifting humanity with a flaming-spear to keep the Mermen at bay, simultaneously sparing his conscience. This girl, Gwen Song, was alike Alesia in many ways. Henry could guess why his favourite student had taken to the anomaly, enough at least, to risk her livelihood. With renewed interest, he studied the girl, watching her pupils dilated and contract, noting the uncommon intelligence in Gwen's eyes. Was he fit to take on another burden? He had made three such decisions prior: irrevocably changing three lives. His wife, Elizabeth. His first apprentice, Gunther. And his second, Alesia. Was there now going to be a fourth? Had he enough time left in him to take on another? A subtle smiled touched Henry Kilroy's lips. The Magister was surprised to find himself so amicable, wondering if the years had dulled his paranoia and instead rewarded him with erudition. The passage of time makes it easier to be wise, Henry noted with self-serving sagacity, not to mention something about the girl stirred his curiosity. Alesia had asserted the girl possessed two elements, though she couldn't confirm her hypothesis. “Then we are agreed, the buck stops here,” Henry pronounced after a minute of harrowing rumination, quoting the legendary American Magister, Harry S. Truman. “Gwen's secret remains between you and I. BUT - nothing comes free; an assurance must be exacted.” Alesia exhaled deeply; she patted Gwen’s white-knuckled fingers to informed her that the worst was over, furthermore inferring that Gwen had better accept her master’s proposal, else it was back to perpetual Stasis. "I agree-" “Don't accept so carelessly,” the Magister intoned, thinking of fortifying the girl's resolve. "I warrant we're not giving you much choice here, but still, your commitment must be one of free will. Tell me, child, what Path do you walk? What is it that you want for yourself?" What did she want? Gwen wished she knew the answer to the Magister's gentle enquiry. Rationally, she knew that she wanted safety, leisure and ease of life; but was that possible in this world? Wasn't their current crisis precise because her communion with a Mythic-being implied she could single-handedly destroy the safety, comfort, and ease of every other human being in Sydney? In a world where men and women flew through the sky and conjured balls of fire and plasma against monsters, was it even realistic to assume that the warm embrace of mediocrity was a possible option? She had seen the NoMs living in the city, aimless and unemployed, or otherwise existing in humdrum - is that what she aspired to? To live a life of scarcity and irrelevance? What did she want? Gwen searched for Alesia and saw a potential answer in her talented Instructor. Beside the Scarlet Sorceress, the figure of the smiling old man and his demi-goddess servant provided another. “You can be honest with me, child.” The Magister’s voice was a deep, reverberating baritone. “Whatever you may wish, there is no shame. I will accommodate you to the best of the Tower's capacities.” Gwen's chest expanded with bated breath, her lungs on the verge of bursting. In her old world, such delusions of grandeur applied only to madmen; men whose dreams and manifestos resulted in the death and misery of millions. “I…” Gwen found her voice, but the words choked and died on her tongue. She knew the words to be wrong. “I … I want…” Her mouth felt full of ash, her head a raging torrent of strange emotions. Was it so hard to just come out and say something so realistic for a world at war? What would be the harm? Wasn't this a world of Gods and Monsters? “What do you want? Gwen Song?” The Magister pressed on, teasing open Pandora's sacred receptacle. “I want… POWER.” The dirty word came to Gwen at last, the tension flowing from her like an open dam. “I want the power to protect myself." "I want the power to protect my friends." "I want the power to live my life without fear.” “That’s all?” Magister Kilroy's smile was serene as he twiddled his fingers, forming arcane circles. Gwen was behind herself now, the words of her old world pouring forth from her lips like a torrent. “I want the power to punish those who would wrong me. I want to harry the foxes, frighten the wolves, and slaughter the tigers that bar my way! I want the power to terrify those who injure me so that I need fear no vengeance!” The cynical words of Machiavelli, so laughably hyperbolic and disturbing in her old world, slipped from her tongue like a key into a well-oiled lock, unlocking parts of her she hadn’t known existed. Or perhaps they had always existed; she couldn't help wonder if this was how autocrats and psychopaths were born. “Excellent!” The Magister roared with satisfying laughter, his mirth rolling across the room and filling its spaces. “There is no shame in wanting power,” Henry commended his newest ward. “In the study of Spellcraft, Gwen, we call the manifesto we chose the Path. For those of us in the Center Faction of the Middle Path, power is a means, not an end. It is a beast that must be tamed to achieve Greatness!" “Greatness?” Gwen demanded breathlessly, her earlier confessional had taken a toll on her stamina. “Yes Gwen, Greatness.” “The Path of Greatness?” The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Alesia, the Credo please.” Alesia stood from her chair and began to speak like a school girl commanded by a headmaster, her own eyes ablaze with fervent dogma. “Greatness is the Path of Spellcraft." “Greatness is not found in oneself.” "Greatness is how one affects those around him.” “Greatness is that which does not lie in strength alone, but the noble employment of power; for one is greatest whose strength carries the weight of other’s hearts." Alesia's intonation quivered with enthusiasm. Beside her, the Magister listened to his student speak with a look of dreamy satisfaction, like one listening to the crescendo of an overture. Though he knew it to be the influence of an Enchantment he had invoked to draw out his students' raw, untainted emotions, the Credo proved as inspiring as the day he and his companions had penned it. "Thank you, Alesia." Kilroy turned to their guest. "That is the creed of the Tower, Gwen, what is your opinion of our Path?” Gwen shook with unexplainable emotions. A rapturous ardour burst within her like the swelling sea at high tide. Effortlessly, she found her next words. “Greatness,” she declared in the next moment, finding herself channelling the wisdom of Emerson, “Greatness is the binding of superior advantage to larger generosity, that which we call Noblesse Oblige!" “Exactly!” The Magister’s eyes widened with unexpected pleasure. What insight! What wisdom! "The abuse of power," Gwen's voice raised in pitch and volume, invoking the Bard. "Is when remorse is disjointed from Greatness!" “Gwen, that's... that's perfect!” The Magister found himself applauding the girl. Such clarity! Such brilliance! He had studied the Credo for half a century and yet, he had not uncovered words that encapsulated his ethos so well. Opposite the Magister, Gwen was scarlet with shame over her plagiarism. She looked over at Alesia and Henry, now regarding her with open fascination, as though she was the Magister and they were the Acolyte. Alesia's fists clenched, beside her, the veins on Magister Kilroy's wrinkled neck pulsed with undulating intensity. As the fever of Gwen's mind cooled, she couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right impression.

While Gwen awaited her verdict, the Magister and his Apprentice were having a silent exchange of their own. “Master, you had better dismiss Heighten Emotion, we're all getting too worked up. Your heart...” “I am fine… I am fine… Where did you find this girl? One of the Great Houses?” “At Blackwattle… near the Fish Market.” “From a government school? Then how is she saying all of this? Did you teach her the Credo?” “Never mentioned it.” “Yet, she understands the Tower's charter better than its most senior member. She’s just given us the answers our scholars had struggled with for aeons!" “Well, she IS an anomaly…” “…” From Gwen's perspective, Magister Kilroy silently sipped his Golden Mead for a minute before he could work up enough energy to continue. Sufina coddled the old man while still in Gwen's likeness; a sight which made Gwen incredibly uncomfortable. “So - an assurance,” Henry said finally, after soothing out his breath and making sure he had indeed dispelled the enchantment. “You will submit yourself to a Greater Geas.” Gwen's expression was uncomprehending. Alesia moved to explain. “It’s a more powerful, permanent form of the Quest spell…” Gwen's comprehension was one of vacancy. “It’s a compulsion spell that punishes you and alerts Master if you break a promise to a condition we set,” Alesia explained in laymen's terms. “In this case, you are going to promise that you will not use your ability to commune with the Mythic to do anything hostile toward the city, towards other humans, except for extreme self-preservation. You also promise to tell no one about our Geas, the serpent, or our decision to shield you from the Tower.” Gwen nodded. She didn't have to like it to agree, for she understood that this was the best Alesia could offer under the circumstances. Alesia had already put herself in danger, and now her Master was also invested. There was little else to be said other than to accept the Geas with good grace. “I understand," Gwen affirmed. “Let's do it.” “Woa, hold your horses, Tiger, you get to negotiate as well. We’re not bandits.” “I am fine," she replied. "I should be thankful that you are risking your skins for my sake.” Alesia glanced at her Master, who gave her a look that seemed to suggest she should learn from Gwen's maturity. The Scarlet Sorceress pouted sulkily. “Well then.” Magister Kilroy cleared his throat, “If you have no specific request, then please listen to mine.” “Anything, Sir." Gwen felt genuine admiration for the sagely Magister. At the same time, she was also a little jealous of the father-daughter kinship the old Mage enacted with Alesia. Gwen herself had never experienced such paternal guidance: which, in Gwen's opinion, likely accounted for the dubious decisions she had made in her adolescence. “Ahem, yes, well, if you insist.” Henry appeared troubled by Gwen's earnestness. “I want to take you on as my Apprentice if you are willing. One, as compensation for accepting the Geas spell, and two, because I think you agree with our philosophy so very well. I have never met anyone who surmised our Credo so completely.” Apprentice! Apprentice? To a Magister?! Apprentice to Alesia's Master? A Mage whose domain encompassed the city of Sydney? Gwen immediately looked towards Alesia for affirmation; her Instructor also wore an expression of disbelief. Gwen's heart sank. “Alesia… would that be okay?” She knew she owed Alesia more than she could repay. It was entirely possible her saviour had no desire to share her privilege. If so, she'll respect Alesia's wishes. “What are you talking about Gwen! That would be wonderful!” Alesia leapt from her chair and embraced Gwen, planting a big kiss on her cheek. “We are sisters now! I am your sister-in-craft now! Gwennie!” “Big Sis!” Gwen called out, feeling doubly awkward because she was technically older than Alesia. “Little Sis!” Alesia tasted the word rolling off her tongue and loved it. Henry patiently waited as his students, new and old, performed a happy little dance. “A new member of the family? Huzzah!” The room resounded with the sound of shivering autumn leaves. Sufina joined the duo. As a Dyrad; she was highly sensitive to joyous emotions, which served as a form of nourishment. "Sir!" Gwen struggled free, then fell to one knee. It seemed the correct thing to do. "I accept your blessing!" Gwen made the supplicating gesture of placing her right hand upon her left breast. Following Alesia's instruction, she then swore that she would serve Kilroy and his Credo to the best of her ability. "I accept." When Gwen rose from the floor, the Grot once again filled with celebratory air, thick with the scent of jasmine in bloom. Watching the women swig down mugs of Golden Mead, Magister Henry Kilroy, Master of the Sydney Tower, came upon a hair-raising epiphany. Gwen. Alesia. Sufina. Was his grotto to be filled with women, young, unruly and supernatural? What would happen if they ganged up or henpecked him? Would he ever know peace again? “Sufina, the scroll.” After carefully explaining each article and clause to their newest member, the Great Geas was ready to be expended. Gwen pricked her thumb on a mithril dagger, then placed a bloody print into the scroll. In the next moment, a silver fire consumed the parchment. "Oh~." A tingly sensation suffused her skin. Distinctly, she sensed through her mind's eye that there was now a cluster of golden Enchantment orbiting her Astral Body like a satellite. “There'll be a throbbing pain if you're about to renege on the agreement,” Henry informed her. “And as agreed, I would be notified immediately.” “Thank you, Sir,” Gwen replied before hurriedly correcting herself. “Master.” After Gwen delivered her sickly sweet 'Master,' Alesia relaxed, finally landing on the solid ground after two days of Flight. Now that her Master had ensured Gwen's preservation, it was time to find some answers to questions that had been gnawing at her since Gwen revealed her talents. “Master, if you still have the time, I highly recommend taking Gwen to the Cognisance Observatory.” “Oh? Gwen's that impressive, is she?” Gwen felt a blush coming on, Alesia was overextending her praise. Surely she would disappoint her new Master. After all, Alesia was at least tier 6 Evocation, with an insane aptitude for Fire. Gwen was a measly tier 2. It was like comparing a Pomeranian to a Displacer Beast. “Gwen, do you mind?” Alesia nudged her sister-in-craft. She told Gwen that it was a rare enterprise to have a Magister overlook one's skills. Usually, Mages paid hundreds in HDMs just for a fraction of Henry’s time, begging for mystical solutions to arcane enquiries. "I would love to!” Gwen raised her hand in affirmation. Finally, the extent of her new prospects weighed in on her. My Master is a Magister! Did that mean she was now in unassailable position? Or at least, that was what Gwen had thought until Alesia informed her of the dangers of being Henry Kilroy's Apprentice. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Don't celebrate yet, Gwen. Apprenticeships aren't public information," Alesia explained. The reasons for discretion were many, though principally it was for the Apprentice's protection until they could stand on their own. Kidnapping, bribery and harassment of a Magister's prized Apprentices were a few of many ways to influence a Magister's decisions, especially one like Henry Kilroy. As such, though her Master would be available to guide Gwen down her Path of Spellcraft, he would not make their relationship public and official until they could fend for themselves. Even Alesia, a known associate of the Magister for two decades, was only seen by the outside world as a protégé, an Acolyte mentee who ran errands for the Magister in exchange for knowledge and favours. “You also have a brother-in-craft as well,” Alesia’s eyes were half-closed when she spoke, a little excitement creeping into her voice. “His name is Gunther Schultz. We're in the same boat, though everyone correctly assumes Gunther is Master's official Apprentice." Gunther Shultz. It wasn't the first time Gwen had heard the name. "Not knowing our true relationship offers us significant flexibility," Henry grinned. "But enough of that. Let us proceed to the Great Cognisance Chamber. I am curious as to your sister-in-craft's enthusiasm." Kilroy guided the duo to the exit of the pocket dimension, explaining to Gwen that that 'Grot' was the domain of his dear companion, Sufina. In the event of an intrusion, the Dryad could keep hostile Mages trapped indefinitely, wandering the endless hallways of her pocket dimension. Beyond the oaken doors, a Levitation platform rose to meet them. “Where’s Sufina?” Gwen noticed the giantess had suddenly disappeared. Henry tapped his skull. “Sufina dislikes the distorted space of the Tower,” he replied. “She’s a creature of nature.” The platform arrived with the addition of two guards in white. “My Lord!” The men snapped to attention. “Cadets,” Henry greeted the Tower's Guards-cum-Valets. “No.1 Observatory, please.” Once outside the Grot, Alesia resumed her resting bitch face. Gwen's attention wandered here and there, split between the architectural spectacle, her amiable new Master, and Alesia's hostile demeanour. The lift drifted through the Tower's interior, where behind thick, mana reinforced glass Gwen could see Mages at work. So this is a Tower, Gwen hungrily took in the wondrous sight, a construct of magic housing the best and brightest Mages. A few strata consisted of offices, appearing no different to a commercial centre. Others were to be chaotic rooms used for training, shielded to prevent damage to the walls. Up higher, four consecutive floors looked like ancient libraries with row upon rows of grimoires that made Gwen’s fingers itch. Higher still, glass panes revealed what looked like laboratories filled with white-robed Mages. When Gwen spotted the moving form of a half-crustacean humanoid raging against a clear mana barrier, she yelped in surprise. "Don't mind it, Gwen," Henry informed her. "A specimen, nothing more." Finally, they arrived at the beginning of yet another corridor, where the platform docked itself with a sound of metal kissing metal. “Observatory No1, my Lord.” The guards snapped to either side of the platform, allowing them to pass. As Gwen passed one of the guards, she caught a look in his eyes which sent goosebumps prickling across her skin. The man's narrowing, unrelenting gaze transmute a feeling she knew well. It was jealousy over the fact that she, a young woman of no recognisable value or importance, was going to be spending time in a Cognisance Chamber with the Lord Magister! Demurely, she averted her gaze, her cheeks hot with mortification. “Leave us,” the Magister intoned coldly. The platform descended after another autocratic hail of “Yessir!” “What a racket.” Henry turned away. “Comes with the territory,” Alesia snorted. “At least you didn't have to sign autographs.” “I thought you enjoyed your glory days.” Henry chuckled. “You were so young, so pure, not cynical and twisted like you are now; flying around in that battledress, the dreams and hopes of young men everywhere in the military. Where did it all go wrong?” “You made me what I am,” Alesia shot back, grinning at her Master. "No backsies." “Gwen…” Kilroy lamented helplessly. “Yes, Master?” “Don’t turn out like Alesia; the additional stress would kill me." The Tower's Cognisance Chamber was far more extensive than the one Gwen had been in at school. It was more like a gymnasium, with a ceiling of six or seven meters and just as wide and long, forming a sterile white space. Henry waved a hand. The room sunk immediately into darkness. Space fell away. In the next moment, the trio stood upon the Astral Plane. One by one, orbs of varying colours began to manifest. “Gwen,” Henry beckoned his youngest Apprentice to come closer. Above her, about her and below, arcane phenomena bathed her in technicolour. “How well do you know the Elemental Planes?” “Only what the textbook indicated, Master.” Henry nodded, moving his hands. Around her, Gwen saw the expansion of a galaxy more detailed and more extraordinary than anything she could imagine. He pointed to the zenith. “Positive.” He pointed to the nadir. “Negative” He pointed to the four compass-corners. “Earth, Fire, Water, Air” He pointed to an area alive with crawling motes of electrical energy. “Where Air and Positive meet, there is Lightning.” He pointed to a place that was tenebrous and threatening. “The man who tried to assault you was Dust, the meeting of Negative Energy and Earth.” The clarifying vision brought new epiphanies into Gwen's theory-addled mind. So many questions that had plagued her ramshackle understanding clarified at once. The Magister continued. “Lightning, Steam, Mineral, Radiance.” Henry pointed toward the space between the Prime Elements and the Positive Element. “Smoke, Magma, Ooze, Ice,” Henry continued, pointing to the linear intersections where the Primary Elements met. “Often mistaken for quasi-elemental. These are Para-Elemental Planes, free from Positive or Negative influence.” Finally, he pointed below at the absolute darkness that is the Negative Plane and its corners. “Ash, Dust, Salt…” The Magister paused. “...and Void.” The vision faded. “Gwen, please manifest,” he commanded. Gwen opened her mind’s eye. A parallel vision coalesced on the floor below, reflecting her astral form: a lithe, transparent body filled with clear motes of lightning and uncertain motes of something else. “Beautiful.” Alesia touched a hand to her mouth. “What a wonderful Astral Form, Gwen, such clarity!” “Alesia, if you would join us.” Alesia followed suit; it was an ultimate act of trust, for exposing one’s Astral Body was akin to bearing one's soul, leaving nothing to hide. Flame began to manifest from underneath Alesia, expanding as a swarm of fireflies taking flight until slowly, the silhouette of a feminine figure took form. Unlike Gwen’s crystalline visage, the edges of Alesia's Astral Form was a heat haze. Her Astral Projection then grew in intensity until it became a roaring forest fire, first red, then yellow, then blue, then ultimately, white. When she finished, the Chamber was aglow with iridescence, illuminated by a woman-shaped fission reactor. “Tone it down a little, Alesia.” Henry shielded his eyes with a localised Abjuration. Alesia diminished her output until her Astral Body assumed the comfortable glow of a hearth fire. “I understand you want to show off, but Gwen’s going to need new eyes." Gwen's Master murmured. Alesia staggard back when Gwen reappeared with two swollen orbs, watery with tears. “So…so wonderful…” Gwen attempted to give her sister-in-craft a thumbs-up, pointed at an entirely different direction. “I am so sorry Gwen…” Alesia fumbled for an injector then gave her blinded sister-in-craft a shot in the arm, restoring her seared pupils. “So rash…” Henry shook his head, that temperament of hers was the reason he withheld a public Apprentice from Alesia. With her vision restored, Gwen breathed a little easier. “Right, let's continue.” Henry reminded them. “Gwen, use your favourite spell." Gwen closed her eyes, focused her mind, then began her chant. "Blast Bolt!" She channelled her favourite Evocation magic, observing the interchange of mystical energies within her body. A stink of ozone followed the flash of Lightning. Henry clapped. “Now try your other element,” Henry commanded. "The Void Element." "The Void... Element, Sir?" "Go on, see how well it answers your call." "Blast Bolt!" Gwen attempted to channel the black motes of energy within her body into the Evocation Sigil, but the Elemental Gate remained dormant. She tried again, but the tenebrous specks appeared oblivious to her will. “… I am sorry Master." Gwen's face was scarlet. "I can't." “That’s fine… What was it like when you used the Void Element last time?” Clearing her mind, she recounted a few hypotheticals. The first time, she deduced, was likely after her terrible ordeal at her mother’s luncheon, where she had a meltdown in the middle of Hyde Park. The next time would be when Edgar attempted to consume her ego. “… and both time you had…” Alesia asked uncomfortably. “Thoughts of self-harm?” Gwen lowered her head. She knew it was a weakness, one brought by fear and despair, uncertainty and self-loathing. “No need to feel ashamed,” Henry's assurance was calm and soothing. “I am familiar with the Void Element myself. Void, you see, is triggered by intensely negative emotions - not unusual seeing that the Negative Plane corresponds strongly to death and destruction, just as the Positive Plane enables life and restoration.” Kilroy considered the visage of Gwen's Astral Body a moment more before appearing to make a decision. "I am sorry," Gwen wondered if she had displeased her new Master already if he was regretting taking her on. “Your Astral Body is unique,” He began. “Twin elements, oppositional in polarity, a true oddity. One that is perhaps, rarer than my own. Observe-" Without effort, Henry expanded his Astral presence, filling the reflection below with a pyrotechnic of colour. From Gwen's perspective, Henry Kilroy's mana signature was an astral wonder. First, there was Fire. Then came Water. A rusty ochre indicated Earth. The fourth, barely visible, could only be Air. “Do you see?” Gwen nodded. She saw though she did not comprehend. The manifestation was impossible; it made no sense. For Henry to possess four Primary Elements meant that her textbooks were full of lies. The Magister then opened his palm, and Gwen saw a miniature Sufina, chubby and cute, move within the space of his palm. “Fire, Water, Earth, Air - Evocation, Conjuration, Transmutation,” the Magister said solemnly. “Together, they make the Prime Material, invisible to us because we miss the forest for the trees. My unique Element, Gwen, is the element of Life.” Gwen nodded, too awed to speak. “Don't fret over your inexperience. We were all young, once. When I was a child, they called me a fool, a useless nincompoop. When I was a young man, they called me a prodigy. When I was an adult, they called me a Magus. When I grew older, they called me Magister. Do you wish to know the lesson I learned, Gwen?" "Master?" "I sought out guidance, Gwen. With humility and without shame. Far and wide I travelled and tested myself, visiting all the Maguses and Magisters who were willing to teach me, telling them about my talents.” The Magister gave Gwen a look that was full of knowing, hinting at something that made Gwen’s stomach lurch. “We all have our secrets. People fear those who are different, what cannot be attained by themselves especially, but that's just human nature. They would call you strange, reject you, accuse you, or mayhap they would do the opposite, uphold you, put you on a pedestal. Your Void Element: it is rare, and it is incredibly dangerous. But do not fear that which is a part of you. Control it, don’t let it control and feed on you. Don't hide it from the world and let it fester.” “Thank you, Master…” The old man’s wise words filled Gwen with warmth, but then the old Master's next words poured over her like a bucket of arcane ice. “But back to the topic of guidance, Gwen Song.” Kilroy's voice rose an octave, as though a man who suddenly found himself in possession of the world’s largest rough diamond. “If you don't mind, my Apprentice, can you explain to me why you have yet to Awaken?”

When the Gwen was just sixteen, her father remarried. His fiancèe was a younger caucasian woman only five-years older than Gwen. Before their engagement, Gwen had met her a dozen times, each time keeping out of her way. A week before the wedding, her future step-mother decided to have an unexpected heart to heart. “You’re a bad influence on your father,” she sobbed, standing so close that her forehead almost touched Gwen's chin. “You have too much of your mother in you. It is making our family miserable.” It wasn't an unreasonable accusation. Gwen's insolent rebellion against her father did somewhat castrate Morye's masculine authority. “I’ve waited three months for you to leave already. We want you gone. What do you want? Money? A place to stay? That’s all fine. We’ll pay for it, so long as you get out of the house." Morye wasn't a confrontational father and so had left Gwen's inevitable exodus to take its natural course. Gwen had planned to save up money working her summer job at Bondi, then move out to a state housing project for teens in Crowsnest, not far from Blackwattle. Though not unsympathetic for her step-mother, something in Gwen's gut had caught on a nail. She promised her future step-mother that she would move out, then promptly called Helena, informing her father was getting married, at this location, at this particular time. Fearing that her mother wasn't enough of a shit-storm, she also called Kwan and told him the step-mother had designs on her and Percy’s inheritance. The wedding had gone swimmingly after that; right up shit creek. At the ceremony, several large vans deposited buckets of excreta over the gates, the red carpet, and a part of the venue's decor. It was a symbolic message of displeasure delivered by a well-connected and influential family. “How did Helena know?” “How did Kwan find out?” The bride's eyes turned toward Gwen, who froze on the spot. They knew. What did her new Master and her sister-in-craft suspect? Gwen felt paralysed by that familiar 'oh shit' feeling. How to explain that a part of her soul, presumably her original partition, wasn't Awakened? Wasn't the 'Awakening' the single most important thing taught to Mages, indoctrined and emphasised from birth? “I... I am not Awakened?” Her mind was a shamble of tangled thorns, her tongue caught in a barb wire snare. “I… I don’t know.” Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Gwen screamed to herself, useless brain! “Impossible!” Alesia was no less surprised than Gwen. “She'd been an Evoker the whole time. I trained her myself!” Henry's eyes glinted. “Look here.” He pointed at Gwen’s astral form, where her crystalline silhouetted body was reflected below. “The interaction between her Lightning Element and her Evocation Sigil is strange, don't you think? Notice how they detour and branch out before manifesting outside her body.” Gwen looked down and observed to her distress that discharges of electricity from her Evocation Sigil were indeed circulating here and there needlessly. How was I supposed to know that! Gwen screamed internally, the textbooks we had were pieces of shit, they barely explained anything other than common phenomena! Fuck this world and its lack of Wikipedia! “A portion of her Astral Soul remains intact and untouched,” Henry intoned sagely with a flourish. “Virginal, even!” “…” Gwen’s complexion caught fire. Alesia threw her master an admonishing glare. “So… Gwen, my Apprentice,” Henry hurriedly continued, dismissing his faux pas. “You don’t know?” “No Sir,” Gwen confessed. "I wasn't very studious at school." "You know nothing?" Gwen shook, then nodded, then shook her head. “Ah well.” Henry shrugged. "No worries." “Sir?” Gwen spluttered. "I am sorry?" “It's fine. I said,” The Magister repeated himself. “Why, Master?” Gwen's shock and horror were now turning into indignation and confusion. It was fine, no worries? Was the mystery of her dual-Elemental origin merely a lark at the pub? Was she a sheep with an extra horn? She'd been so terrified of becoming an other-worldly specimen that she could have peed! Henry's expression informed Gwen she was the one who was unreasonable. "Must you have an answer, child?" Henry chuckled. “I don’t know why ‘I’ could tap into the Prime elements but not the Positive nor Negative, either.” The Magister continued. “I don’t know why Alesia can channel the heat of a radiant star without her Astral Form imploding.” “I don’t know why the Dragons don’t just wipe us from the face of this earth once and for all.” “I don’t know the hearts of men, especially the brazen ambitions of my fellow Magisters.” If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. “I don’t know if I made the right choice in offering you a Geas.” Henry Kilroy, Master of the Sydney Tower, laughed. “Do you know the reason why your Astral Body remained dormant?” The answer was 'no'. Gwen awoke in another world without any discernable reason. She tapped into both Void and Lightning, all the while knowing very little about Spellcraft or Magic. What happened to the old Gwen? Where did her anima go? Was her current being an amalgamation of both Gwens or merely her own? “No…” Gwen answered with absolute honesty. “Then who am I to know?” The Magister had an expression of a wise professor imparting a gift of erudition. “The sea of knowledge has no boundaries; we are but sailors skimming its unfathomable depth. So much more knowledge remains to be uncovered, buried a full fathom five, deep below with the bones of the world. Who would have the courage to delve so deep?" Gwen exhaled, the cadence of her heart's palpitation eased. She realised that the whole while, her Master was trying to elucidate her fears and staunch her paranoia, setting her woes at peace. His meandering speeches reminded her a little of Plato's account of his teacher, Socrates, whose instruction took place through dialogue, not indoctrination. She was beginning to understand why Alesia gave off such a feeling of cool independence and confidence in everything she did, happily owning every action and decision. "I think I understand," Gwen replied. “Good. There is no shame in not knowing. It is when you cease to be curious that you are truly ignorant.” Henry indicated to her reflection. “But for now, let's see some progress." “Progress?” Gwen's tongue had loosened enough to venture beyond fragments of speech. "Progress to what, Master?" “Oh, you naive little girl…” Henry’s gaze blazed with great expectation. “Why, your Awakening, dear.” “How exciting!” Alesia squealed, swinging Gwen's hand to and fro. “Gwen, if this goes well, you're very quickly going to become a Magus! To think that you’re going to embark on the Path with two Schools of Magic, and you’re only fifteen! The others are going to struggle to catch up!” For some reason, Gwen thought of Yue and Elvia. She wondered if they had safely arrived back at the dorm yet. “I wouldn’t count your cockatrices before they hatch,” Henry warned them. “The ideal scenario is that Gwen awakens a second school. There's a chance I am wrong as well. I am no Oracle.” He turned to Gwen. The Magister then produced a sphere from his Storage Ring, a quartz crystal the size of a human head. Months ago, a similar device had initiated Gwen onto the Path of Spellcraft. “This prototype is much higher tier than the common crystal used by government schools. It is crafted from drake-stone, mined from Lightning Ridge. We are replacing the Awakening Stones region by region, though I am afraid it will be some time yet before the public systems receive theirs." “Who knows what talents we'd have missed all these years,” Alesia snidely critiqued. “All that potential, maybe more Mages like you, undetected.” Gwen placed her hand on the stone. "I am ready, Master." “Channel your unmodified mana into the stone first, Gwen,” Henry instructed. “I am curious to see if your Sigil can tap into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void." "I'll try." The transparent mana of her Astral body surged into the Awakening Stone, bringing it to life. Its ingrained conduits refined Gwen's raw mana before returning the condensed energy into her mana pool. A safe distance from Gwen, Henry Kilroy activated a suite of diagnostic magic, studying his student as the mana orb made its way to her chest, mingling with her existing energies. Gwen meanwhile, finally saw the Awakening as it occurred. When she had taken the stone initially, it was without the aid of a Cognisance Chamber; a government school did not possess the HDMs necessary to make such an effort for untested Acolytes. Even if they could, the Cognisance Chamber at the school was an ancient relic from the 50s. The Sydney Tower's Observatory No.1 was imported from Germany, a marvellous piece of European magical engineering. As her soul melded into her Astral Form, she came to a renewed understanding of the underlying metaphysical principles of Magic. The Sigil, the Conduit, the Elemental Gate; one by one, she saw within the Chamber a detailed visualisation of how they manifested arcane phenomenon, translating will and energy into matter and effect. One by one, new conduits condense within Gwen's physical body. Correspondingly, her Astral Body also underwent significant changes. Pox-like black dots of Void matter begin to collate, forming a dark nebular rivalling the electric tempest illuminating Gwen's Astral projection. “Master, isn't that a Negative Energy Gate? Would Gwen be okay?” Alesia intoned worriedly. “No, not that. Nothing living can survive pure, unadulterated Negative Energy,” Henry noted solemnly. “Unless Gwen originates from a line of Egyptian Jackal Priests or is secretly allied with the Death Priests of Coatlicue, I doubt she'll Awaken to the Path of Undeath." The Magister regarded the dark motes of Energy manifesting even now, "That, Alesia, is the Void Element." Kilroy's voice seemed to meander somewhere far away. “A voracious and ruthless Element fuelled by eternal hunger. There is a reason why we so seldom see Mages of this element, can you guess why, Alesia?” Alesia looked toward her Master alarmingly. Gwen, a Void Mage? “It is because the fuel for Void spells consist of life, light, and existence itself. It is corrosive by nature, an Element that ultimately consumes its host.” “So... Void Mages destroy themselves? Is Gwen going to be okay?" “I do not know," Henry repeated his earlier anaphora. “Should we let her continue to manifest?” Alesia demanded alarmingly; she would rather Gwen be mediocre than having her sister-in-craft perish from self-harm. “She should be fine, for now. In time, we shall see if she destroys herself, or if we have to take up that mantle." "You're talking about..." "Yes." "But you can guide her, right? We can guide Gwen so that she doesn't misuse the Void element." “There will come a time…” Henry's eyes gazed into a middle distance Alesia could not see. “...when the hunger becomes too great. It begins, at first, with those struck down by one's spells, whose essence nourishes the Void, slowly offsetting the effects of using the element. Then, with increased expertise, it becomes easier, quicker and more convenient, to draw upon that absurd power continually. With each tier of progressively more powerful spells, the Void Mage desires alternate sources to sustain their magic. Items at first, supplemental magic, then small sacrifices here and there, a few Drain Life rituals, maybe use your enemies’ vitality against them. Eventually, inevitably, the hunger takes over the Mage's mind, it’s all they think about, the more power they accumulate, the more biomass they need to consume, until finally…” “Master," Alesia interjected, cutting off her Master's mumbling tirade. "Surely you're giving Gwen a chance!" Kilroy met his student's imploring gaze. In a second, he restored his mind to clarity. "Of course. Did I not take Gwen on as an Apprentice? What manner of a Master would I be to shirk from the duty of polishing a difficult gem? Other would only do her wrong." "But you just said-" Alesia stopped. "You will? So the Void isn't dangerous?" Henry's voice seems to grow in strength as he spoke his next words. "Wood, Void, Lightning - Elements are just that, Alesia: sources of blind and unfeeling primordial energy. I speak of the Void, its nature - not Gwen herself. For a young girl to know our Credo better than even ourselves, who am I to judge how she will take to her Void-tinged powers? As I said, I am not the Oracle of Delphi. It is the spell of the heart that murders, not the spell of the hand, do you understand?" "I think I do, Master," Alesia worriedly answered. The Flame Magus had seldom seen her master in such a contemplative mood. Kilroy patted his second Apprentice on the shoulder. “Be Gwen's friend, Alesia, support her when she is scared, give her solace when she is lonely, offer her advice when she is confused. So long as she does not use her power out of fear, recklessness, or ill-conceived passions, she will be safe." "Master, I-" “Look there!" Henry tightened his grip, his thoughts no longer of the present, but of yesterdays he'd thought long forgotten. "She's Awakened!”

A blue-silver Sigil flared, guiding the Void matter into the girl's Astral Form. As motes of the tenebrous energy circulated, carving out new mana conduits, the crystalline body of her Astral reflection grew larger, taller and more refined. Now elucidated by her Master, Alesia studied her sister-in-craft's illusory projection, above which the girl's mental and physical exertion had soaked Gwen to the bone with exhaustive perspiration. As with a griffin chick, Gwen was currently weak and vulnerable. She and her Master would have to keep Gwen under wraps, hidden, disguised from the rest of the Mageocracy, letting news of her talent cascade little by little. Most importantly, the Tower must not suspect that its Master had chosen to temporarily obfuscate the girl’s Void Element, as well as her connection to the Mythic. Considering how desperately the Frontier hungered for military might, Gwen's Path was undoubtedly going to be a difficult one. There was a balancing act which she would have to accomplish, a narrow ledge between autonomy and been used and abused by the powers that be. Given Henry's wisdom and knowledge, it would take no more than a few years for Gwen to stand on her own. In time, she could travel with Alesia and her Master to a tier 1 city to receive her tertiary education. Furthermore, they also had Gunther to enact a little helpful nepotism. Surely the oldest of her Master's Apprentices had a duty to look out for his cute and endearing little sister. “Conjuration.” Alesia recognised the mana signature. "Indeed." Henry concurred. Gwen opened her eyes, feeling her drenched blouse plastered to her skin, her thighs were likewise slick with sweat. “I did it?” She found the Magus and Magister standing at a polite distance. “You sure did!” Her sister-in-craft ran toward Gwen, then bodily embraced her, heedless of the girls' waterlogged condition. “Congratulations Gwen, you are now also a Conjurer!” A Conjurer! Her heart soared. A summoner of magical creatures! Principal Bartlett was a Conjurer, and so's her Master! Conjuration was one of the most versatile Schools of Magic! Alesia conjured up a towel, telling Gwen she could change and take a shower once they’re back at the apartment. The room began to dim, the illusory projection fading until only the white expanse remained. “Let us return to Sufina’s chamber; there is much that we must discuss,” Henry intoned, patting Gwen’s embarrassingly moist shoulders. Their return journey was unmolested by guards. Alesia operated the lift until it reached their destination. The trio then crossed the threshold of time and space, reentering the viridian grot. “Kisses!” Sufina materialised and embraced Gwen, nudging the Apprentice woodenly, her figure a hybrid of floral and feminine beauty. “Your scent is even more delicious now. I could just gobble up your Essence.” “That’s because you’re both a Conjurer and possess the vitality of the Mythic,” Henry explained. “Both of which are very attractive to Sufina.” “She consumes Essences?” “All Dryads do.” Henry grinned. “Sufina has a preference for female Mages though, and she assumes the form of her favourites. Don't mind her; she doesn't need your vitality. Her grot in the Wildlands sustains her just fine." The trio assumed the seating arrangements from before. Sufina then brought another serving of Golden Mead and manna cakes. Gwen hungrily stuffed a cake into her mouth. For some reason, she was famished. “Now that you have access to your second element, Gwen, I am going to teach you about the Void element and its particulars. You must be very, very careful in using it….” Gwen gulped half a cup of mead, feeling its warmth dispelling her hunger. Henry spoke at length about the dangers of living beings channelling Quasi-Negative Energy, and how self-destructive the process could be without the proper warding and training. “Is there a way to use the Void without self-harm?” Gwen enquired disappointingly. It seemed her new element has a significant drawback. “To do so would go against the nature of life,” Henry spoke with a tone of reprimand. “I would not venture to suggest there is a way, for that would guide you down the path of Death Cults and Necromancy.” Gwen shivered, just those names made her skin crawl. "Yeah, we Purge those," Alesia warned her as well to drive the point home. “It would put you in direct opposition to the Frontier, the Mageocracy, and the Tower,” Henry warned. "Not even I would venture to support an Apprentice who practices Necromancy and the Dark Arts. Think about the Credo, Gwen, and if you must use the power of the Void, use it because it is necessary, because the good outweighs the bad, because the toll was worth it. It is the ultimate form of self-sacrifice.” Gwen nodded. “Noblesse Oblige, you had told me.” Henry smiled kindly, the weathered lines of his face crisscrossing like old crags. “One must never disjoin remorse from power.” “I will live by those words, Master.” “Your words," the Magister reiterated. "And mayhap one day, all of our words. I look forward to your future actions.” Leaning back in his throne, the Magister grew fatigued. "Master, you need to rest," Alesia took Gwen by the hand. "I'll take care of her." With that, Alesia bid her Master farewell. Gwen and Alesia watched him recede into the Grot, braced by Sufina. Gwen finished the rest of her mead with an anxious heart. Was her Master that frail? Just how old was he? “Let's go take that long deserved break.” Alesia patted Gwen on the shoulder. "How about a fancy dinner, my shout?" To their surprise, the platform arrived with two guards, the very ones who had accompanied them earlier. Their manner, however, was divorced from any amiability. “Major, Magister Walken would like to speak to you and the young lady,” one of them informed her with an expression full of sadistic schadenfreude. “Does he have an appointment?” Alesia asked sardonically, mocking his earlier remark from their first encounter in the atrium. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. The man’s face took on a dangerous hue. “Be glad that the Magister has made time to see you. Do not waste his generosity.” Without Alesia’s command, the platform began to move, drifting through the chambers of the building towards some unknown destination. “Cadet, stop this platform at once,” Alesia commanded, her voice cracking like blistering fire. With mild alarm, Gwen noted the temperature around them was rising dramatically, enough to dry out her blouse. “You can lodge your displeasure to Magister Walken, Major.” The cadet ignored Alesia's command. So these are the "Factions" within the Tower, Gwen observed, distressed by this unexpected turn. Besides her, Alesia’s ire rose to a new temperate. Gwen sensed that any moment now, she was about to enrol the Cadet for the infirmary's burn-unit. Gwen held her breath. "!" There was a flicker of flame; then the console ignited with a scarlet fire that seared the man’s hands, yet left the instruments untouched. A caracal materialised upon the platform, hissing at the guard, bearing its fangs. “Major, you can’t do this!" “What's wrong with punishing disobedient subordinates?" “To disobey a direct request from a Magister is unacceptable!” “Too bad you won’t be around to see it.” Alesia bared her teeth at her offender, then kicked the offending Cadet away from the console, sending him crashing to the floor. _A Transmutation-enhanced chest-stomp!_ Gwen stared. _Ouch!_ Now in control, Alesia commanded the Levitation Platform to detour toward the Teleportation Circles. To Gwen's dismay, the second guard possessed the nerve to have a got at Alesia behind her back. "Lightning G-" Before Gwen could deliver the stun spell, the guard screamed and felt to his knees, a mote of scarlet flame had ignited one of his ears, reducing it to a bloody, molten mess. “Maybe your Magister would be kind enough to gift you a Regeneration spell,” Alesia intoned nastily. “Although I certainly wouldn’t waste tier 5 healing on a worthless grunt.” “You dare attack us with spells!” “Did you hear me cast a spell, asshole?” Alesia snapped back. “That was self-defence by my Flame Spirit, responding to your unprovoked hostility.” “How dare you!” “How dare you!” Alesia snapped back, still driving the lift toward her intended destination. “You want to try me? Who's going to mourn you?” The guards fell silent. For the next minute, Gwen remained still as a statue as the guards groaned, one clutching his groin and the other cupping his mangled face. But the platform descended into the Teleportation Circle Chamber, Gwen could see that they were surrounded. Below, a dozen guards in bone-coloured uniforms awaited them. “Major De Botton! Give yourself up! Your unprovoked assault of a Junior Officer is intolerable!” A Sergeant levelled what appeared to be a wand at Gwen's sister-in-craft. Alesia pulled Gwen behind her, shielding the girl with her scarlet visage. The Enchanted dimensions of the Tower's interior ensured that escape by force or Spellcraft was nigh impossible, not to mention she still had Gwen with her. The Guards all possessed Sonic Suppression wands, a Magi-tech item devised by the Americans, capable of disrupting spell-casting. Alesia was immune to the interference from one, two, or even five or six of the damn things, but a dozen, at this proximity? Not even she was sure what would happen. Of course, she could burn them all to cinders, but that would escalate matters far beyond Factional rivalry - it would be mass murder. Contacting her Master was out of the question. It would offer damning evidence that the eternally neutral Master of the Tower was not so indifferent after all. As Kilroy's blunt instrument, she had to keep her distance in public. So, what will it be? Alesia pondered. If she could maim at least half of them, she could force them to reactivate the Teleportation Circles. “What’s all this racket about?” A piercing voice boomed across the room, resonating across the dimensionally distorted chamber like a thunderclap. The confrontation between Alesia and the Guards momentarily adjourned, brokering an uneasy truce as to face the unexpected intruder. “Impossible, the Teleportation Circles were locked!” One of the guards muttered in confusion. "Shhh!" his colleague hissed. "The Paladin has override authority from the Tower's Control Spirit." A man descended from the platform. Gwen opted for the diction of 'descended' because that was precisely the imposing presence she had felt. Where mortal men walked, here was a man who bestrode the air like a Demi-God. A radiant halo atop the man filled the room, a brilliance like those depicted in paintings of Apostles and Angels, forcing Gwen to squint. The intruder sported short, cropped, coffee-bean hair, loosely styled in the manner popular with soldiers. His face was handsome, chiselled, set in perfect proportions, its strong definition meeting at his broad, cleft chin. His eyes, two steely orbs, held intact in their sky-blue gaze the display before him with utter disdain. Below a bullish neck, he possessed the build of a military man, with well toned, muscular arms that made the fabric strain against his shoulders. The man was also tall, almost six-and-a-half feet, made taller by horned leather boots that kicked the marble pavement. “Scarlet, how nice it is to see you." The intruder crossed the floor of the Teleportation Chamber with the confidence of a king surveying his domain. Beside the Scarlet Sorceress, Alesia’s burning hostility simmer until it reduced to that of a tempered campfire, crackling with unexpected warmth. “Lord Gunther Schultz,” she spoke with a tingle of sweetness that Gwen had never before heard in Alesia’s voice. “How fortuitous your arrival must be.” “Oh, please,” Gunther replied. “Not too late, am I?” Gunther walked through the gang of guards like a shepherd amongst a flock of wayward, bleating sheep. The guards backed away awkwardly, their hands gripping their Suppressors with white-knuckled intensity. “Paladin, please pardon yourself. We are in the middle of apprehending Miss De Botton,” One of the guards, the Guard Captain, announced carefully. The role of Paladin made Gunther the judicial enforcer of the Tower Master's law. If the Radiant Mage wished to punish the Captain for insubordination, no one would bat an eye, not even Magister Walken. To the Guard Captain's surprise, Gunther abruptly turned towards him, the presence of his radiant aura ablaze with supernatural charisma. “Cadet, what is the correct protocol to address your Paladin?” The guard’s face blanched. He turned stiffly toward Gunther, holstering his Suppressor as he did so. Stepping precisely two paces away, he raised a hand and saluted, locking his elbow mechanically. “Permission to speak, Lord Paladin! Sir!” “Denied.” Gunther glared down range at the sweltering Captain from up on high, snapping him a crisp, returning salute. “Remove yourself at once!” The Guards looked at one another, hoping that perhaps, a certain Magister who had sent them here would materialise and somehow save their skins. When no such Magister made an entrance in the next few seconds, they deflated like spent balloons. Gwen couldn't know - but was a strange hierarchy here in the Tower. The Mageocracy of old, established by the Brittanic Commonwealth, set the ground rules for Spellcraft seniority. At the same time, Military Rank imposed by the Frontier Military offered contradictions to the archaic rank set by tradition. Magister Walken was Gunther's senior, but the man did not possess a military title. Gunther, on the other hand, held the positions of Magus, Paladin, and the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. As guards of the Tower, the men were effectively Military Police. If Gunther wished to throw the book at the guards, there was little they could do but appeal to the Magister himself. “Return to your post!” The Captain shouted at his men. As one, the guards holstered their weapons, then gladly made for their posts within the Tower. “Have a good day, Sir.” the Captain saluted Gunther again, before turning to Alesia with a look of pure contempt. “Major.” “Go fuck yourself,” Alesia snapped back. The two locked eyes until Gunther placed himself between the two. “Good day, Captain, I will speak to the Magister Walken on your behalf.” Gunther shot the Guard Captain an apologetic look. “Shit for brains.” Alesia was determined to have the last word. "Lapdog!" Watching Alesia's triumphant expression, Gwen realised the exact reason for Master Kilroy's reserve for her sister-in-craft. Alesia was a loose cannon! She was a powerful Mage, but the woman was a battering ram! She was incapable of taking an insult in any way other than Newton’s Third Law! That Captain was a prick for sure, but even Gwen understood that the hapless bastard was following orders. What good did it to do to whip an attack dog, especially when its owner refused to show up? Watching Alesia kick the man while he's down, no wonder Alesia was the Tower's pariah. If she took on Yue as an Apprentice, and the two of them combined their fiery temper, wouldn't they become the true Dynamic Duo? Was this world strong enough to survive a partnership of that magnitude? With the Guards dispersed, the women were left alone with Gunther, somehow more impressive up close. It wasn’t so much that his body was overly bulky, like men obsessed with mass, but that the Radiant Mage filled the room with his presence. It was different to Gwen’s mother, who sucked the attention from a room onto herself, for Gunther's presence made any space instantly smaller. “My place, dinner,” Alesia whispered under her breath. “See you then.” Came the discrete reply. Gunther strode past the pair onto a Levitation Platform, bidding them adieu. “Was that our...” Gwen began, but Alesia made her shush. She took Gwen’s hand. Once again the two mounted the Teleportation Platform, where Alesia invoked the Glyph for her apartment, and the two were away.

Alesia battered away excess motes of silvery Conjuration. The two of them were back in the Teleportation Chamber, their bodies safely deposited via magical translocation. The brightly lit vista outside indicated that it was just past noon. Noon? Gwen baulked. They had left in the morning! Had it taken only half a day for all that to transpire? She felt as though they had spent much longer in the Grot. “It’s the next day.” Alesia noted Gwen’s confusion. She surveyed the walls for a timepiece. “Friday to be exact.” “How were we gone for that long?” Gwen was incredulous. “Time functions strangely if you keep going in and out of pocket dimensions," Alesia explained. "Sometimes, its the dimension itself, sometimes, it's your body that’s confused. The only things you can trust are timepieces attuned to the planar rotations.” Gwen surveyed Alesia' apartment, her eyes wandered across the panes, landing at a device on the coffee table. “Alesia, may I use your Message Device?” “Yue and Elvia?” “Yue and Elvia,” Gwen concurred. “Tell them I took you into the Municipal Police Bureau and we had to record statements and vouch for your innocence. It got late, so you slept over. Also, don't forget about your Geas.” “Thanks, Alesia, I won't.” Gwen plodded toward the soft cushions of the armchair by the window. Her Message rang a few times; then a hurried voice picked up. “Hello? Who's this? You better not be selling something.” Classic Yue. Gwen felt better already. “It’s me, Gwen.” “Oh! Gwennie! How are you doing? Where are you? When are you coming back? Who you with? Is it a boy? What did you eat for dinner?” Gwen endured Yue's barrage until she was out of breath. “I am with Instructor Alesia,” Gwen explained, then delivered the white lie she and Alesia had concocted. Though it was for her friends' own good, she nonetheless felt an acidic tingle in her gut. “What’s Alesia’s apartment like?” Yue's interest in Alesia was insatiable. “Oh, it’s beautiful! There's a view overlooking the harbour; I can see almost all of Bradfield Park. She’s got the penthouse suite…” “How’s Elvia doing?” “She right here.” Yue giggled. “She’s been fighting me for the phone!” “You devil! Put her on!” Gwen reprimanded her companion. “Gwennie! I Missed you so much already! Yue is a meanie!” Evee's voice soothed her nerves like a choir of angels. Gwen wasn't sure why she felt so attached to Elvia. All she knew was that whenever she held the healer in her arms, she felt at peace. Was it a maternal thing? She wondered, either way, the golden girl had Gwen's oxytocins in a tizzy whenever she was around. “Hey Evee, hows the dorm? Anything changed after all that fiasco?” “Much quieter. We're still in mourning," the healer summarised. "We’re going to have a ceremony next week to commemorate the Instructors. Are you going to be back by then?” “I sure hope so,” Gwen replied. She sighed deeply - poor Mr Boone and the others, dying for no discernable reason. For a while, the girls continued to speak at length about life’s philosophical nothings, filling up the time. 'Thump!' Gwen watched in wonder as a semi-transparent Mage Hand opened the fridge, retrieved a stubby from the interior, then floated itself across kitchen island to rest in Alesia's hand. Gwen had been on the phone for so long that Alesia had taken a shower and gotten changed. Alesia slugged the tall-neck. "Fresh. Smooth. Real. It's all here. A beer so good, it's bad.” Her sister-in-craft winked at Gwen, kicking up her robes to reveal a bit of leg. “Pufft!” Still holding the Message Device, Gwen broke into a burst of snorting laughter. “Gwen?” Elvia’s voice asked quizzically. “Hello, what's happening?” Alesia was already beside herself, spilling a bit of beer here and there. “I’ll talk to you later, Evee, I should be back tomorrow night.” “Alright, Gwennie! Laters!” Gwen replaced the Message Device. “Help yourself.” Alesia motioned to the fridge before realising a problem with her generosity. “Belay that order soldier. You’re not old enough!” It was strange how often she’d forgotten that Gwen was half her age. Sometimes, when watching the girl train, Alesia felt a queer acknowledgement that Gwen was much older, someone more akin to a contemporary, someone her equal. “I would like a drink though,” Gwen enquired politely. "May I?" See? That’s just it! Who the hell says that? Alesia's scalp tingled. She had never known herself to casually say things like, ‘may I.’ When she was a teenage girl, she was all bluster and fury. Even now, social niceties were a chore. Alesia summoned another beer. Gwen popped the top. "Cheers, Alesia. Thanks for everything." The two knocked glasses, then Alesia watched with wonder as Gwen slugged the stout in one long pull. Gwen took the liberty of Alesia's generosity to dig up a snack from her fridge, a seamless unit built into her modern kitchen. What greeted Gwen, however, were row upon rows of beer, stacked in their paper packaging. Besides the beer, were another two to three stacks of what looked to be instant curry. On the door were jugs of questionable milk and slabs of chocolate. Maybe there's fruit? Gwen pondered as her eyes continued to scan, hoping against hope. At the fridge's extremity, she discovered a dying pear, forlorn and forgotten from neglect. Below, the freezer section fared no better, possessing only frozen dinners. Gwen slowly closed the door, then looked toward her athletically inclined sister-in-craft. Fire Mages, she realised, possessed incredible metabolism. After a hot cuppa, Gwen retired to the guest bathroom and took a shower, borrowing from Alesia’s wardrobe. She was lucky that they wore similar sizes, though Alesia's proportion was far more generous than her younger counterpart. Once the water was running, Gwen took advantage of the shower zen to recollect her thoughts. She was now an apprentice-in-secret to a powerful Magister, possessing the potential to be a young Magus. What Gwen needed was training, experience, and time. Her Master had told her that to advance her Spellcraft; she needed to venture into the green zone for battle-practice. It was impossible for an Acolyte to mature inside a greenhouse, not even if she got to see him fortnightly for tuition. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Other than her training, she had another pressing problem - she was poor, and she couldn't count on monetary support from either of her parents. Even if Gwen sold all of her mother’s old gifts, those Miu Miu dresses, shoes, the branded handbags and her shiny bric-a-brac, what about her long-term expenses? Spellcraft training involved invariable expenses. Raw LDMs, or HDMs if she could afford it, provided supplementary mana for extended practice sessions. Live-combat in the Wildlands, Questing, and Dungeoneering likewise required Magic Items to reduce the risk of permanent injury. Potions, utility items, translocation devices, protective items, portable shelters, the list goes on. She had hoped, a little spoilt and immaturely, that the Magister would gift her a ring with the look of a benevolent but doting father. Unfortunately, Henry simply smiled and said that she should learn to fend for herself, as Alesia and Gunther had done in their youth. After a far too long shower, Gwen emerged to find Alesia asleep on the couch. She fetched a blanket and placed it gingerly over her companion's chest. From delivering Gwen from her Uncle’s party to saving her from the cave to rescuing her yet again from indefinite detention, it was hard to believe that they had been acquainted only a few months ago. Gwen threw on her borrowed clothes, sliding into a loosely hanging shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts Alesia had outgrown. Just as she dried out her hair, a 'thump!' came from the mezzanine, followed by a distinctly penetrating voice. “Hello? Alesia? Gwen? Are you decent? Can I come in?” Alesia woke with a start from the couch, towels falling aside to expose herself, rubbing her eyes and groggily swearing. “Oh shit, Gunther's here, how long was I out?” Gwen rushed over to make modest Alesia’s robe. “About an hour,” she replied. “I need to get changed.” Alesia forced herself up and unsteadily made for the bedroom. “Hello…?” Gunther's voice came from below. Gwen closed the bedroom door. “Alesia’s getting changed,” she said it loud enough so that both of them could hear. “Alright, I am coming in,” Gunther replied, and a hidden panel in the corridor opened to reveal the teleportation room. He met Gwen as she came down the stairs, barefooted and flustered by Alesia's carelessness. “Gwen.” Gunther nodded, his face lighting up radiantly. “Hi, Gunther.” Gwen felt a little intimidated, her teenage hormones thrashing against her better judgement. Gunther walked past her, the scent of cologne just tingling her nose, and made for the kitchen. “Hungry?” he asked, moving his hand over the empty counter, materialising an assortment of meat and vegetables. "Dinner will be ready soon." Jesus Christ, he cooks too. Gwen felt a disquietening attraction beginning to engender. She watched in salivating wonder as Gunther Shultz rolled up his sleeve to reveal finely haired arms taut like steel cables. The Magus roamed here and there, familiar with every compartment, even hidden cupboards where appliances and other utensils had been stowed. “So, you probably should have heard, I am your big brother-in craft,” Gunther intoned in that radio host voice of his. “Gunther von Shultz. I am pleased to meet you.” “Likewise, Gwen Song. Please call me Gwen.” The two shook, Gunther's mitt-like hand swallowing Gwen's pale stalks. “Gunther, are umm… a Lord?” Gwen had to ask out of curiosity. To her limited knowledge, 'von' was a nobiliary particle indicating an aristocratic patrilineality. “It’s just a title, think nothing of it. Everyone else in the male line either left or died, so I was stuck with it.” Gunther was a little embarrassed just how thrilled Gwen appeared. “Where's your family come from, Gunther?” “Oh, the family is everywhere now, but we had our estates in old Bavaria, near Breitenegg. The original demesne was converted into a freehold by my father, who tried to get away from all the politics by renouncing, the title fell to me when I was studying under Master Kilroy.” “I know some of those words,” Gwen confessed. Gunther's laughter was hearty and full of good cheer. "How about yourself?" "Refugees, I suppose." Gwen lowered her eyes. "My father's a Eurasian refugee from China; my maternal family were Dutch-Indonesian colonials." "I am sorry to hear they had to flee their homes," Gunther offered his sympathies. "As Paladin, I feel shameful that the Demi-human threat remains significant even now." The two continued to exchange personal details, with Gwen telling Gunther about some of the happenings in her family, and how Alesia had saved her from potentially tearing that handsy young man limb from limb. “She did good,” Gunther agreed. “Allie's like a sister to me. I’ve known her since she was your age, fourteen? Thirteen? Those were troubled times!” “Do tell! What was she like?” Gwen perked up, itching to hear some prequel adventures of Alesia, Scarlet Sorceress. As he spoke, Gunther’s hands were a blur, cutting, slicing, dressing and moving across the various ingredients like a magician. The Wild Land pheasant became a basted wonder in the oven, dribbling juices over heirloom vegetables. A collection of lamb ribs turned into caramelised lollypops. Rich, fragrant soup simmered in the pressure cooker, and it appeared creme brûlée was for dessert. The whole process, the precision of it, was akin to an artisanal cooking show. “Well, here’s a story that’s highly relevant,” Gunther spoke as he sauteed, turning the memory over in his mind. “Do you know why those Guards in Tower were so antagonistic and disrespectful to Alesia? She’s a Magus after all, and a very famous one at that.” “I was wondering about that.” “Indeed,” Gunther continued, his hands moving pots and stirring sauces. “So this was about, oh, five or so years ago? Alesia and her team were out on recon up the North Coast when they ran into some rogue traders who were selling all manners of stuff to the folks who live out in the Wildlands. Of course, selling stuff to Rogue Mages and Demi-humans outside the city is a problematic grey area, so Alesia had the lot of them rounded up, customers included.” “They offered her bribes, she refused, then went through their inventory. What she found was pretty disturbing. You ever heard of organ trading?” “… Seriously?” Gwen had, of course, heard about these things in her old world, though such atrocities were often removed from the reality of her first world nation. “It's not too uncommon, I suppose. Anyway, rogue traders collect particular organs from humans who are deceased, the brain, the heart, the liver. These are considered delicacies for some of the more predatory Demi-human tribes out there, Merman, Merfolk, Riven-folk, Lizardmen, and so on.” “They EAT people?” Gwen's stomach knotted, unaware of the hypocrisy of her hyperbolic reaction. She had been eating Wildland things for half a year now, and a good steak-n-kidney pie was the love of her life. Her favourite food, SPAM, was itself constituted of mystery Wildland meat. “Well of course. Every living thing has to eat. It just so happens that some of the things they eat happen to be people. It’s wild out there, Gwen, the law of nature and all that. It's not as though the Demi-humans don't eat one another. A band of Hobs isn't going to say no to a village of Lizardmen." "I see." Gwen gagged. “Anyway, back to the Organ Traders. We call the Demi-humans monsters, but they're pretty smart at the end of the day: Hobs, Lizardmen, Mermen, its entirely possible for them to speak human, or teach us how to speak their language. WIth communication, comes trade. Mostly, they're after our artifice. You see, the Demi-humans don't have a unified currency for trading. We do. Within the Tower, the Grey Faction is the one who does most of the trading with the Demi-humans, going as far as to operate the Grey-Market. At any rate, the less civilised tribes dig up babbles, mana Cores, precious metals, bits and pieces of larger creatures, and trade it for food and crystals with these rogue traders.” “Which brings us to the topic of food." Gunther tossed some salad into a bowl and gave the spinner a whirl, draining the water. “Though they are elementals, advanced Demi-humans are physiologically similar to humans, with the same craving for flesh. And as it happens, we're the only race that produces Crystal Currency and food on an industrial scale.” “If that's the case, can't we pressure them with trade sanctions?” “We tried that already.” Gunther grimaced. Gwen noted that the man was handling all the boiling pots and sizzling pan with his bare hands. “The lower beings who are happy to eat chicken and pork, are too dumb to trade with, they have nothing we want, and they don't understand treaties. The higher monsters like the Lamassu, the Evil-Eyes, or Demihumans like the Sylvan races; tend to think we’re inferior, dog-like creatures.” “They think 'we' are the fauna?!" Gwen baulked, thinking of how the Europeans had treated the Indigenous folk of Australia. “It's only fair." Gunther salted the roast some more. "Think about it; we kill these creatures for their mana stones - they kill us for our heart, brain and liver, all those parts of your body necessary for the generation and control of mana.” “And... that's what Alesia found?” Gwen was glad that Gunther was currently making the soup, and not carving up a roast or something. “Indeed. So you can imagine what was going through Allie's head when she saw boxes of the stuff marked with price tags. She’s somewhat tempestuous, as you know. “I can imagine…” Gwen gulped. “So after frying most of the traders, she started questioning them, and that’s when she found out the traders were working for a Magister at the Tower, and that the cadavers were an exchange program under the Grey Market.” Gwen connected the dots. Alesia. The Tower. Magister Walken. The Grey Faction, the Grey Market. “Magister… Walken?” “Well done,” Gunther appraised her understanding, his pearly teeth glinting. “What do you think she did?” The answer to Gunther's question took no stretch of the imagination. “I would say that Alesia teleported to the Tower and started shouting that he was a traitor,” Gwen hazarded a guess. Gunther chuckled. “Oh if only that were all she did! Master Kilroy would still be in possession of his Ioun Stone collection!” "What did she do?" “Allie went straight to the Magister’s office to confront him. When he denied everything to her face, she set his office on fire, burnt down his entire library. You should have seen the uproar, a Magus, burning down the office of one of the Ten Magisters of the Tower! Guards were trying to restrain her, though she insisted it was all an accident.” “Oh my God!” Gwen's lips formed a perfect O. “When the whole fiasco finally died down, Master Henry had to punish Alesia. She was stripped of her military rank, dishonourably discharged, which was why that guard kept calling her Major. Afterwards, Master Henry gave Walken a whole collection of Ioun Stones, five thousand HDMs for a full set of twelve." “Because of this, the Grey Faction loathes her. Pretty much anyone who's anyone had a mate injured during the incident. In fact, to this day, she has yet to apologise to Walken.” “That’s… that’s amazing…” Gwen took a sip of water. Even Gunther's second-hand story was enough to get her blood boiling. “He was and is still guilty!” A cry of anger came from the second floor. Alesia emerged. Gwen's jaw hit the floor. Her sister-in-craft was wearing make-up, actual makeup, smokey eyes and ruby lips and elongated lashes, the full Bristle-back Hog. She furthermore wore a scarlet cocktail dress that revealed her back, teasing the contours of her white thighs. Oh my God. Gwen gasped. She’s into him. She is TOTALLY into him. But what had Gunther said earlier? She was sure she had heard it. “She’s like a sister to me…” Gwen glanced at Alesia, then at Gunther, who was kept cooking with an unaffected expression, happily complementing Alesia on her beauty with the tone of someone speaking to their neighbour about the dog. Ugh, Gwen's heart dropped, Alesia. You poor, poor girl.

Gunther plated their dinner. Soup: French Onion, cut with crisped Gruyere, croutons. Entree: Bone-in Wildland Lamb lollypops in coarse mint conserve. Salad: Mixed Heirloom Cherry Tomatoes in sweetened apple vinaigrette. Main: Whole Roasted Wind Pheasant, red wine reduction in own jus. Dessert: Creme Brûlée Gwen reached out with a trembling fork, resisting the ingrained desire to take a picture. Each dish was more flavoursome than the next, bringing her taste buds to climax. She took a sip of the wine. Paired Wine! Simply orgasmic. “Magister Walken was fuming.” Gunther swallowed before speaking, smiling serenely at Alesia every time she fluttered her lashes. “Of course, I reminded him that had he taken you in, Master would have returned the favour by having him waste away for a week in Sufina's grot.” “These Factional conflicts are getting out of hand,” Alesia sighed. “So much infighting, nothing ever gets done.” Gwen watched as Alesia sidled closer to Gunther. The man remained perfectly stoic and unmoved by her bold intentions. “Gunther, can you tell me about these Factions?” Gwen interrupted the two. The awkward atmosphere was beginning to become unbearable. “What do you what to know?” Gunther asked. “Everything?” Gwen confessed candidly. “I've never even been to a Tower until yesterday.” “Seriously?” Gunther glanced at Alesia, who nodded solemnly. His Master, the ever-critical Henry Kilroy, asked a girl to be his Apprentice within hours of meeting her for the first time? Even with Alesia vouching for the girl, it seemed excessive. “The old man must have taken a liking to you.” “More than you know, Gunther, Gwen clarified the Ordo Arcanum Credo in one line. Did Master tell you?” “Noblesse Oblige, the binding of our superior advantage to larger generosity... the abuse of Greatness is when remorse is disjointed from power.” Gunther inspected Gwen with renewed interest. "I can certainly see why you've impressed Master." “Yep,” Alesia gestured rather rudely with her fork. “I am afraid you’re no longer the favourite, Gunther.” “I am happy for Gwen if that's the case,” Gunther replied, his face betraying nothing. “But surely, Allie, you were always his favourite.” “Not that it matters now.” Alesia grinned cheekily. “Gwen's the pet favourite now.” Gunther grinned, reminding Gwen of the men on Van Heusen posters. “Anyway, to answer your earlier question,” he continued to Gwen. “There are three main factions. Our Master upholds the Middle-Path faction, prioritising the preservation of human cities, including the NoMs, and maintaining diplomatic relations with Demi-human Races. Of the Ten Magisters of Oceania, four count themselves among our number.” “The second faction is the Purist Faction, also known as the Militant Faction. Their three Magisters hold ranks within the Frontier Militia. They believe that we should engage in a continuous purge of Magical Creatures and Demihumans, expanding human influence into the Wildlands.” “Is that even possible?” Gwen blurted incredulously. After all, she had seen first hand what her Mythic 'kin' was capable of doing. What would be the cost of subjugating such a creature? “With the Tower's support, it's possible." Gwen wanted to ask what that meant, but the man had moved on. “The last faction are the ones who believe that the answer lies in joining those outside the city; that we shouldn't be living in isolated enclaves. There are three Magisters in this faction too. Magister Walken is one of them.” “Nasty little man,” Alesia snidely remarked. “With nasty little connections to the Wildland Demihumans.” “Now, now, Allie,” Gunther motioned disarmingly. “You know as well as I do that the Grey Market materials provided by those Magisters make up for half of all the Magic items in the Tower.” Gwen perked up. “Alesia! What if someone from the Tower crafted Edgar's Teleportation Ring? Does the Tower have records of who made what?” Gunther shook his head. “Records are confidentially maintained by Enchanters. Anyone worth their salt in espionage would not leave a trail as large as that. A Contingency Ring with Long Range Teleport costs anywhere between five-thousand to fifty-thousand HDMs! Moreover, there are no Enchanters capable of using the Asscher inscription technique outside of Europe.” “Oh.” Gwen sipped her water sadly. So much for that avenue of enquiry. At the dinner's conclusion, Gunther brought out the creme brûlée. Alesia continued to entice her senior, though the Paladin of Sydney Tower kept his demeanour as cool as a cucumber. “Anyway,” Gunther reached into his pocket, brought out a small ring box, then pushed it toward the middle of the table. “…” Alesia's eyes grew wide. “This is …” The Scarlet Sorceress swallowed, her throat bobbing back and forth. “… for Gwen,” Gunther coughed. “...” Alesia clicked her tongue. “What is it?” Though curiosity was gnawing on her like a cat, Gwen refrained from touching the box. “Master Henry believes it may be best if Alesia or I could come to your aid in the event of life-threatening danger. Knowing your connection to that Mythic, it's best we have insurance." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. “Oh?” Gunther opened the box to reveal an intricate piece of magical jewellery, a silver band with an obsidian stone. "A Teleportation Beacon," Gunther explained. "If you’re in trouble, activate it with a command sigil, and it’ll send out an SOS to the three of us. We can then use Teleport or Teleportation Circle to come to you.” The two of them watched as Gwen obediently equipped the ring, the small silver band shifting to conform to the circumference of her left ring finger. “Say.” Gwen felt that she should confirm her suspicion. “Does this ring provide a live update on my whereabouts?” “That it does,” Gunther intoned casually. “That's the point. Alesia and I both have one.” They raised their hands, dispelling their ring's inbuilt glamour. Sure enough, Gunther and Alesia also possessed subtle silver-bands. Alesia sported an impressive ruby, while Gunther owned a bright, square-cut diamond. What rock! Gwen marvelled. That bloody thing's rocking four to five carats. “Don’t take it off. Ever.” Gunther's tone inferred his advice was less a suggestion and more so a command. “Of course,” Gwen smiled back, putting on some of that disarming teenage charms the youthful possessed in abundance. “So, what’s going to happen from here on out?” Gwen asked. After the accumulated events of the Serpent, the Void element, and the Second Awakening, was it even possible for her to go back to school? What about her mandatory military service? “You go back to school,” Gunther surprised her by guessing her train of thought. “Master believes that your body needs time to grow into the possession of two Schools of Magic, not to mention your Void Element. After you graduate high school, we'll arrange something for your military service. You'll be under my direct supervision. There, you should be relatively safe.” “Relatively?” Gwen noted Gunther's conditional participle. “Safe from the Factions, the Houses, Clans and Sects, that sort of thing,” Gunther leaned back, feeling nostalgic. “But not Monsters, the Wildlands, or folks wanting to duel you. No pain, no gain, right?” "I guess so." “Don't fret, Gwennie. I went through the same thing, although I was a bit younger than you…” Alesia affirmed Gunther’s nostalgia. “I did some of my best work back then. It was such a carefree period of my life. Questing all day, Purge Missions every week. No Factions to bother me.” “That’s a mild way to put it,” Gunther laughed, his good humour returning. “Try to imagine it, Gwen. A thirteen-year-old Alesia, only this tall, throwing fireballs this way and that on the Brisbane Line, fighting eight-foot tall crab.” “Thirteen!” Gwen almost choked on her creme brûlée. Alesia was a child soldier?! What kind of a fucked up experience did the two of you endure? “Well, I was only Twenty, myself,” Gunther humbly boasted, his stoicism a little loosened by the decanter of Shiraz they had imbibed. “We’re both offensive casters, you see, and we were right in the thick of the Coral Sea War. Man, those damn Mermen, thousands, hundreds of thousands of the bastards; a never-ending tide of stinking fish.” “Yeah, we ate a lot of seafood,” Alesia chortled. “The war put me off shellfish for years.” “You'll never look at seafood the same way after a crawfish Mermen tries to take off your arm with a pincer that could chew through steel plates!” “I remember this time that Gunther got dragged under by an octopus Mermen. To escape, he cooked it from inside out. It took three days to get the ink off him, ha!” Gwen listened to the two of them swap old war stories and knew that no matter how amicable her siblings-in-craft were to her, there was an intimacy that she could never attain. Though she was the new favourite kitten, there was a place in their Master's cabal for his faithful hounds that she could never occupy. But Gwen was glad at least, that she was going back to school. There was almost a year left with Yue and Elvia, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it. Yue said she was going to join the military track, but with Alesia’s help and the Magister’s influence, perhaps they could stay together! Elvia would be off on her own, though they could still see one another during breaks. “Gwen?” Alesia called for her. “I am sorry, I was daydreaming…” Gwen apologised, her face flushed even though she had only a sip of the wine. “It’s alright; you must be exhausted.” Gunther pulled back his chair and found himself an apron embossed with yellow duckies. “I’ll clean up, go to bed. You can go back to the dorm tomorrow.” “Thanks, Gunther. You too, Alesia.” Gwen smiled at them warmly before removing herself and tucking the chair back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” “I am leaving soon,” Gunther replied. “Though I’ll see you around.” “Good night, you two.” Gwen performed a cute little curtsy. “Good night, little sister.” Gunther flashed her a smile with pearly teeth. Oof! Her heart throbbed. Talk about an au-naturale lady killer. The siblings-in-craft waited until Gwen was in her room on the second floor before they retired to the bay windows overlooking the harbour. It was now late, well past the witching hour. Upon the surface of the bay, slivers of refracted light from the Barrier Shield, flitters about within the churning of dark waters like silvery fish. From the bay's interior, Sydney extended into the water’s edge, fingers of multi-coloured light, stabbing toward a tenebrous horizon. “What do you think of Gwen?” Alesia inquired of her brother-in-craft. Sometimes, he was the man of her dreams. Other times, he was the big brother she trusted and loved. Then there were times when he felt like a stranger, a stoic Paladin of the Tower, a title made flesh. “She's strangely mature for her age,” Gunther articulated in that deep, resonating voice of his. Alesia found herself leaning against Gunther, her head resting upon his shoulders as they sat on the couch overlooking the bay. One of his hands moved to touch her arm, his fingertips softly caressing the skin until he reached her hair, twirling strands around his digits before letting the ringlets fall. For all his charismatic bluster, Gunther was a prude. Public displays of affection in front of a stranger like Gwen was beyond him. “I fear Master has dropped a difficult task on my plate. What do we know of her? Is she truly as innocent as she appears to be? She's no child, I am afraid.” “Well, she's rather tall, well developed, got legs for days,” Alesia replied playfully. She could not deny that Gwen's strange mix of heritage gave her a sense of exotic allure: the girl's eyes, her shapely limbs - no wonder Gwen's uncle thought to pawn her off to the highest bidder. Gunther gave Alesia a friendly pat on the thigh. “Don’t be an idiot. I am not interested in little girls.” His mirthful tone then took a severe turn. “I take it you agree with Master then? The both of you are confident that she’s going to be an asset?” “She’s going to be a great Sister and a good Apprentice,” Alesia's voice rose an octave. “You can't think of her in terms of assets and deficits, Gunther, she’s still a person before anything else. I've taught her for three months now. She's a good girl.” “Alright, alright, I am sorry,” Gunther made amends by kissing her on the forehead. “I am just looking out for Master. You know his health is not well. It’s a lot of effort raising a new Apprentice.” “That’s why we’re filling in for him, right?” Gunther grunted, exhaling deeply. "I suppose you're right." The duo remained entwined, comfortable in their familiarity. Alesia could feel Gunther’s body underneath her, at ease and relaxed. They were cuddling, or at least she thought they were. His arms were wrapped around her waspish waist, and her skin was warm against his cheeks. Maybe one day, Gunther will reciprocate her feelings, but his work, his duty, his loyalty to Master - all of it prevented him from pursuing a personal life. Upstairs, Gwen was asleep, exhausted by close to forty hours of continuous wakefulness, kept alert only by Sufina’s ambrosia. If she could see Alesia and Gunther on that couch though, she would have immediately recognised their body language. It was a case of two dogs playing on a hearth-rug. The younger worrying, whining, snarling, snapping, giving a pinch, now and then, at the old dog’s ear; the other lying somnolent, blinking at the fire, raising a paw before turning to lick the first. Gunther and Alesia, they were littermates, entwined into a familial embrace, one’s head under the chin of another, falling asleep, numbed by the intimacy of one another's presence.

Gwen left the apartment in borrowed clothes; a modest pink minidress wore over a lacy white camisole. The events of last night weighed heavily on her mind, especially her left ring finger, where now a silvery band acted as guardian and ankle-monitor. Now bathed under a cloudless sky, Gwen allowed herself to soak in the gentle radiance of the autumn sun. With some time to spare, she decided to take a few hours to walk and think. Her first stop Town Hall, from which Gwen made for Hyde Park. Once at the park, she returned to the old Cypress tree under which she had collapsed some half a year earlier. There, she found gashes scabbed with old sap where her uncontrolled Void blasts had removed chunks of ancient wood. As she touched the indifferent wound, she grew vaguely aware that her birthday was today. Sweet-sixteen, she amused herself with the meaningless number. What was the passage of time for someone who had no certainty of what their future held? She felt like the proverbial plastic bag from American Beauty, behaving as the wind behaves. More than ever, she wanted to see Yue and Elvia, though the girls were more than likely with their families. Yue had a regular thing with her father every fortnight, and Elvia either visited her family or worked with her Uncle and her mother at a charity clinic at the edge of the city. Refuting her immature desire, Gwen decided against needlessly disturbing her friends' family-orientated schedules. Family, the plosive syllables made Gwen shiver. The body she possessed has family in this world: a brother, a father, a mother, uncles and aunties. Yet - it was invariably true that she was alone in this world of monsters and men, a solo traveller whose road bisected, but did not run parallel to others. That was the reality of it; the dirty nitty and gritty of it. A second life, spent alone? She didn't want that. Walking down George St, she allowed the smells of the cafes and restaurants to distract her from her depression. Feeling ambivalent, Gwen focused on her growing hunger. She had eaten a very light breakfast, and it was now almost noon. She was midway between George St, bisecting Pitt St, and there were eateries every few shopfronts. In her eyes, the setting proved familiar but exotic, its decor no different to her old world even though the stores had different signage and many of the businesses catered exclusively to the magically-inclined. Curiously, the pedestrian section she was on now appeared to have foregone modernisation. There were no glass fronts, gentrified shopfronts, or high-street fashion labels lining the boulevard. The apparent difference, Gwen realised, was that her former home of Sydney had been a top-tier city; while current Sydney was a Frontier region recovered from Mermen occupation some three-decades ago. Most of its buildings were reconstructed facades of the old town mounded from sandstone, fabricated by Earthen Transmuters. To Gwen, though both cities were aesthetically similar, there was an air of dilapidation about this place that spoke harshly of the 'quality of life' here. Even on the main strip, she could see litter and trash befalling the alleyways. To her surprise, she stumbled upon an old haunt not too far from the cinema. In Gwen's old world, the coffee shop had been a quaint, chic little place popular with hipsters and trendsetters. The owner was an old man who always wore a loud vest, and whose hair changed styles pending his mood of the day. He had a daughter who was going to take over the business, but found love elsewhere, leaving the old man to grind out the rest of his days with his Arabica. Gwen rather fancied the old man, who flirted with her during lunch breaks. But 'hole in the wall' Gwen had arrived at was deeply suspect. The only sign that there was something open was a rusty iron board swinging on its last legs that said 'coffee here'. What’s the harm in having a look? Feeling nostalgic, Gwen convinced herself to commit to the coffee, no matter how terrible. Moreover, she was curious to see if the old man was here and if his daughter was still part-timing as a waitress in this parallel world. "Hello?" She walked through the frontage. Thankfully, the interior was clean and tidy. "Oh hi! Welcome," Gwen was greeted by a girl her age, with short, shoulder length hair and a waitresses' mini-skirt hiked well above her knee. Fiona, her name tag read. Gwen smoothed her skirt and took a seat near the corner. "What would you like?" Another voice called out. Gwen felt her heart flutter. The old man! The old man was here! “Hi Gregor," Gwen stated in the manner to which she as accustomed to, trying her luck. "Flat white, extra shot, skim no sugar." The old man paused at the discord between the unfamiliar figure of the girl-in-pink against the overtly familiar manner in which she ordered, then went about his business. The coffee arrived. Gwen took a sip of the coffee. The milk was watery and the beans acidic, nothing at all like the flat white she had anticipated. Oh well, some things were not meant to be. She thought sadly, feeling foolish. "!" A sudden awareness stabbed Gwen in the spine. She moved her hand subtly to her back pocket, only to find that she was indeed wearing Alesia's skirt. Her currency card! Her wallet! She had left it in Alesia's apartment! She had her student glyph on her keychain for public transport, for school meals and academic activities, but all private expenses had to come out of an account her mother had set up for her years ago. Could she leave them her contact? Would Gregor accept that? As Gwen mulled over the terrible coffee and her embarrassing blunder, two young men sauntered into the shop, their immediate bluster disturbing her train of thought. "Two cappuccinos, make it quick!" They shouted rudely at no one in particular. Gwen furrowed her brows; the old shop never had customers like this, one of the reasons why she had enjoyed its ambience. When the waitress, Fiona, brought the men two menus, Gwen could see that they were far more interest in her outfit. “Told ya the service was good here,” one of them vocalised to the other. "What's your name sweetie?" The waitress smiled and said nothing. "Hey, what's your name?" One of them read her tag. "Fiona is it?" "Are you still going to school, Fiona?" "Come sit with us, Fiona." Gwen felt the ire rise in her chest. She watched the waitress escape with the men's order. When Fiona returned with the cappuccino, Gwen baulked at the owner's carelessness. Gregor! What are you doing! You should bring it out yourself! It would appear to Gwen that this world's version of Gregor was somewhat inept. Gwen wondered if she should lend the father-daughter a hand, though there were too many unknowns. Gregor may be her friend in the old world, but here he was a stranger. With conscious hypocrisy, Gwen put aside her proposed motto of Noblesse Oblige. "Sir! Hands off!" Her dilemma escalated in the form of a yelp, a cry of distress and alarm. Gwen looked up from her cup to see that one of the men had taken the girl by the waist and was forcing her to sit with them. A cup spilt in the struggle, and now the duo was adamant Fiona was to blame. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Gregor shouted angrily from behind the coffee machine, producing what looked to be a wooden bat. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "As I thought," one of the young men grinned from ear to ear, "Jordie, they're both NoMs." Immediately, his companion’s demeanour changed from peevishness to outright arrogance. "What are we doing?" The Mage pushed Fiona into a chair, sending her skittering across the floor. He raised a finger; a swirl of water encircled her father. "You dare assault a Mage, NoM?" Old man Gregor glared impotently at his two assailants. His wooden truncheon a joke compared to what they could potentially do to him. "What... what do you want? You can't use magic ag-against us! That's against the law!" Fiona screamed at the two from the floor. "I'll Message the Police!" The threat seemed to work. "Watch your back, cunt!" 'Jordie' spat rudely at the girl still prone and terrified on the floor. The two young men moved to leave, and that's when they saw Gwen. FUCK! Alarm bells rang in Gwen's head. I should have left. "Hey there, young lady," Jordie's eyes lit up. "You work here too?" Gwen immediately moved for the door. Obligation or no, she's not getting involved with these walking shit-shows. As soon as she's out, she would call the cops. If a bystander called the police, there was no reason for these pricks to harass the shopowner. But she had underestimated the motivation driving the pair of titillated hooligans. Already incited by their failed attempt at picking up the waitress, the two bucks gawked at the girl in pink blooming before them like an orchid. 'Jordie' scrambled for the exit. The moment he'd lay eyes on the girl, his heart grew sore with desire. There was something about the girl, prettier than all the lasses he had seen, that drove him to act. If he could get the girl to go out with him, the young man thought lasciviously, the envious looks on his friend's faces would be divine! It didn't matter if she was a NoM, he justed wanted to have her. Gwen meanwhile was appalled at the man's audacity. Seriously? Are they accosting her in broad daylight? "Move it!" she stated in a tone hinting at mass murder. Instinctively, the young man backed away. Gwen took the opportunity to escape from the coffee shop. Never goto dodgy cafes looking for nostalgia, Gwen promised herself as she made haste for the boulevard, where pedestrian traffic would ensure she could call the police unmolested. Gwen made it no more than a dozen steps before he felt a forceful tug on her ankle, something sodden and wet pulled at her left foot, drenching her wedge sandals. She turned icily to see Jordie with an idiotic simper on his face, mightily pleased with a watery Mage Hand. "I haven't even gotten your name yet," he quipped with a stupefying grin. "Mage Hand!" Gwen tapped into her Conjuration sigil, willing a mote of lightning to exist where the man stood grinning. The air beneath Jordie ionised, an arc of electricity gripped his ankle. "Arrrghk!" Jordie cried out, leaping into the air and convulsing uncontrollably before landing awkwardly on the dirty pavement, compelling him to perform a freestyle rendition of 'the worm'. His friend backed off with both hands in the air, his face suddenly the colour of ash. He wasn't about to piss off a Quasi-Elementalist. "I don't know him that well, he's just a guy from work," he explained. "We just happen to be on break together." The man had told the truth. They were common Mages from the Manufactorum. From the man's expression, Gwen could see that making himself scarce was his dearest wish of the moment. "Don't move," she commanded, performing her best impression of Gunther. She willed a mote of Lightning mana to circulate through her body, her irises glowed, forming two concentric rings of cobalt-electricity. "I.Ds," she stated coldly. Jordie’s terrified companion produced both of their identity cards after patting down the groaning Jordie. Gwen took a glance, two Manufactorum workers, low-level Mages whose talents only allowed them the ability to operate reinforced machinery, worthless when placed into the Wildlands or pitted against monsters. "Don't come here again or bother the store owner," she continued, tossing back their IDs casually. "Or rough men will do to you what I can't be bothered to do right now." "Of course, Ma'am... absolutely!" The two supplicated, one on his feet and the other on his knees. Gwen observed as a thin veneer of Transmutation mana covered the man, empowering him enough to pick up his convulsing friend and beat a quick retreat. Gwen turned to leave, though the squelching of one of her sandals ruined her cinematic exit. "Excuse me... Lady Mage..." A voice cried out. It was the waitress, Fiona. OH SHIT, I haven't paid! Gwen's face caught fire. Should she dine and dash? There was a first time for everything, be it threatening to electrocute assholes or fleeing a four-dollar flat white. "Thank you..." The waitress bowed deeply. "It was nothing. Adieu!" Gwen retreated as she spoke, stomping from the alleyway with one plodding foot trailing water. Once out on the main boulevard, she took the opportunity to stand in the sun with one foot out of her sandal, drawing eyes to her bare feet as she waited for the damn thing to dry. She had another place she wanted to visit. The pedestrian section of Pitt St had always been for luxury goods. Here, gigantic, gaudy display windows intimidated those with weak wallets. Though Gwen had a weakness for handbags, her preference had always been for artisanal and boutique products. A block later, she arrived at an old Victorian Arcade called the Strand, happy to see another place replicated in this parallel world. Unsurprisingly, the place housed shops she hadn’t ever seen before. Where once boutiques stores for bonnets, shoes, ties, and vests reigned; here, in this reality, crystals, magical trinketry and enchanted jewellery inundated the enclosed venue. When Gwen proceeded through the arched gateways, a guard in a bright blue uniform gave her a warm and inviting smile. "Welcome Madam, please enjoy your visit to the Emporium." Gwen greeted the man back. Glancing above the guard, she saw a Detect Magic device. "It's for keeping out the NoMs, Ma'am," the man spoke in a tone that was cordial and polite. "Please enjoy your stay; if you have any questions, I would be glad to answer them." "Thank you." Gwen passed the guard uneasily. Do they segregate shoppers here? Gwen was again reminded of her Apartheid analogy for the world in which she found herself. It was the first time she had seen a place bar NoMs from entry. Her old home in Forrestville never had any shops that kept out the NoMs; likewise, her school had NoM staff members, for whom the Principle encouraged equal treatment. Now inside, Gwen's eyes scanned across a vista of display windows. She could sense the density of the mana in this place, so remarkable as to be almost palpable. Gwen approached the first shop, where a broad window displayed a dozen pairs of intricate earrings, set and cut with enchanted mana stones. There was a short description for each item, what its effects were, and the price tag. **Earring of Air Fortification** A boost to your ability to shape and control elemental air. Offers significant increase in efficiency to mana conversion equating to Tier 2 - 3. Tier 5 Blue-Wind Fox, Orange Zone, Indonesia. _Crafted by Master R.J Tillerson, 4En. 4A._ ~ 45 H.D.M Crystals Had Gwen been drinking, the storekeeper would have had to wipe juice from the pane. As far as Gwen could recall, her summer job at the beach selling ice cream made regular currency in Australian Dollars which could only be used to purchase non-magical goods. Last she heard from Helena, her father made no more than 90 HDMs a month, which roughly converted to just under 50,000 roo-dollars. The conversion rate wasn't a reliable metric, however, as NoMs usually had no access to magical goods and services anyway. Additionally, Gwen had a suspicion that the Mage-controlled Frontier government took advantage of the exchange to keep the NoM population in their place. She looked at the price again and felt her breath quickening. Gunther had said that Edgar’s Contingency Teleportation Ring could be anywhere between five thousand to ten thousand HDMs. Anyone with that kind of money likely didn't take losing an arm and a leg lying down. "Miss?" Gwen looked up to see the shop assistant smiling at her serenely, a beautiful blonde woman with lovely cerulean eyes, stunning in a full set of enchanted earrings and a necklace. "Would you like try out any of the items? We have a courtesy Cognisance resonator where you can test the efficacy of the items." "No, thank you, I am just looking," Gwen replied. The woman gave her a curt nod before returning behind the counter. Four shops down, Gwen found what she had desired since finding out they existed - Storage Rings. This 'luggage shop' had dozens of them, all in different shapes and sizes. **Storage Ring (minuscule)** Allows for the storage and retrieval of small items. Max Capacity 0.3 L. Tier 3 High-Density Spatial Crystal, Orange Zone, Australia. _Crafted by Master G.D Cooper, 5En. 3T. 4E._ ~ 80 H.D.M Crystals She surveyed the selection with a growing expression of grimness. **Storage Ring (Medium)** Allows for the storage and retrieval of large items. Max Capacity 3000 L. Tier 8 High-Density Spatial Crystal, Black Zone, South Africa. _Crafted by Master P.J. Kali Jr, 8En. 5T. 6A._ ~ 1990 H.D.M Crystals "..." Gwen doubted if she had ever possessed that much liquid asset even in her old life. 1990 HDM Crystals? Her father could buy one if he forwent two-years' salary. It goes without saying that having access to crystals would help her Spellcraft immensely. In her old life, her Consultancy had made good money, she had created an expert team who came up with efficient and creative solutions - but how her knowledge of finance, creative accounting, marketing and international business help her here? As far as she knew, only NoMs did those jobs in this world. They kept the little cogs of the economy greased, but Mages pulled the levers. The bigger problem was that she was a high school student. She couldn't be a Mage, and also work like a NoM on the side, could she? From where was she going to get crystals to invest? The only person in her family with wealth to spare was Uncle Kwan, who had inherited his wealth from Grandfather, an Enchanter- Grandfather Huang! She paused. Perhaps she could work out something with her grandfather? A sponsorship she could pay back in a year or two. She remembered seeing him years ago, and the old man had been perfectly amiable. According to Helena, the old Mage was getting long in the tooth, and his mind wasn't what it used to be, but he was still a Tier 5 Enchanter! Not only that, he lived separately from Uncle and her Mother's new family in the Huang’s country estate. Between her charm and his senility - there was no reason he would ignore a granddaughter in dire need! Gwen took another forlorn look at the Ring of Storage, ignoring the rapidly blinking eyes of the store clerk trying to catch her gaze. To think that a twenty-kilometre serpent could wipe out the city in one fell swoop and here she is, having the woes of money. She sighed. Somethings never change.

Gwen made it back to the dorm just in time for dinner. She ventured into the cafeteria, eyes scanning for Yue and Elvia, but couldn't find them anywhere. Had they not returned yet? She thought to herself, disappointed at her friends' absence. Tellingly, the rest of the student cohort were likewise absent, likely as a result of the averted crisis. "Gwen," a soft voice called out meekly. Gwen turned to see a girl rolling towards her on a wheelchair, her bronzed legs angled to one side, too tall for the limited extension of the footrest. Debora! Gwen felt her heart drop. She can't believe that she had forgotten all about her friend. Though a lot had happened, to clean forget about the girl she had electrocuted was unforgivable. "Deb..." Gwen fell in beside Debora, dropping to the girl's eye-level. "I am really sorry..." "It's okay Gwen, I know... I know what happened," Debora assured her softly. "Instructor Alesia told me about it at the hospital. I am glad you managed to knock me out, otherwise..." Gwen took Debora's hand in her own. "Can we talk for a moment? Up in your room?" “Yes, I would love that,” Gwen agreed, feeling awkward that they were airing their traumatic laundry out in a half-empty cafeteria, filled with the sound of clinking plates. "Thanks," Debora concurred. Reflexively, Gwen moved to push Debora to the levitation platform. "It's alright; I got it." Debora incanted softly, and the wheels began to move. "Gotta keep up the practice. I still gotta to catch up to you and Yue." Once inside, Gwen could see that both Yue and Elvia were out. The cleanliness of the room was evidence of that. "There's a letter for you," Debora pointed out. Gwen picked up the envelope. Inside was a scented card with embossed words in italic. Gwennie! Look up! Quizzically, Gwen looked up. 'BANG!' A burst of light erupted from the ceiling. Gwen shielded her eyes, simultaneously opening a conduit to her Evocation Sigil, flashing her eyes electric blue in the darkness. With Debora here, she couldn't just open up a Shield, but she was confident that any ambushing enemies would cope a blast of lightning to the face. Instead, banners fluttered from the ceiling. "Happy Birthday!" "Happy Birthday!" "Sweet Sixteen!" Cries of jubilance surrounded Gwen, startling her so much that were it not for the intimate sound of those familiar voices, she would have let loose her cantrip. Instead, she became covered in confetti and strings. Happy Birthday? Her mind spun. That's right; it WAS her birthday today! Gwen gawked as her friends materialised in her room. Some cheeky bugger had used an Illusion spell to make the room look unoccupied! "Oh, you guys!" She couldn't help but gush. Elvia and Yue both embraced her. Jun and Henley were here as well, busy unleashing more poppers, sending out streams of colour and sound. "Sweet sixteen!" Elvia, on her tippy toes, gingerly pecked Gwen's cheek. Gwen cheeked her friend in return and took in a whiff of the Positive Mana radiating from her golden girl. Oh, how she had missed this! Yue joined the duo and hugs were given all around, even to the boys. The girls had prepared a cake for Gwen, a cute tri-colour sponge cake. A table full of food catered by the kitchen below reminded Gwen she had yet to have dinner. In the midst of jubilation, Gwen found herself beside Debora, again apologising for what she had done. "I am fine," Debora divulged intimately. "My nerves took some damage, but with continued physiotherapy and restoration magic, I'll be good as new in a month or so." She tried to prove her point by lifting her legs, achieving only an inch of movement. "Deb..." Gwen placed a careful hand on Debora's thighs, feeling the trembling flesh under her fingers. "If there's anything I can do for you..." "Don't worry." Debora looked up at Gwen, then motioned with her eyes towards Jun. "Although if you don't mind... I want to ask you a favour for the future." "Anything, Deb, just let me know." "We... I don't want to push my luck... but if you want to make it up to me, promise me that you'll give me a chance to join your team, I want to be a part of what you guys are doing." "..." Gwen looked at her old friend in surprise. They had their adversarial relationship going for almost half a year now, and the 180 took her by surprise. "Sure, I'll speak to the others," Gwen promised, recovering after a moment's deliberation. Debora had demonstrated ample ability. Should Elvia and Yue oppose Debora's inclusion, it would not be because of her talents. "I don't think we'll be having any more Field Trips," Gwen added uncertainly. "There's a compulsory Quest in an Orange Zone next year, right before we start our graduation and military service," Debora pleaded, her moist eyes looking more vulnerable than Gwen had ever seen them. "Two of my team members will be gone by then, as will you Abjurer and Diviner. I need this Gwen. I need to do well for my future' sake. I hope you can understand." "I understand, Deb," Gwen answered. She empathised with her old friend. Debora was hard working and talented, but her Spellcraft wasn't rare in talent or affinity. She may be outstanding in a regular school like Blackwattle, but skills like hers were a dime a dozen in the State's Selective Schools and privileged private academies. "Take care of your self," Gwen comforted her old friend, patting her on the hand. "I'll speak to the others, I promise." "What're you guys talking about?" Yue imposed herself upon them, a plate of sliced cake in each hand. "I'll tell you later," Gwen replied. "Thanks so much for organising all of this." "No sweat." Yue grinned. "It was Deb's idea actually; you never told us your birthday you know." "Oh?" Gwen was surprised to hear that. She's technically thirty plus sixteen now, an old spinster! Where are my cats! She amused herself with an old clichè. I was your age, we trained through sun, wind, sheaves and snow and had to walk six miles through a Purple Zone to get to school. "Thanks again, Deb." "So," Yue continued. "Sixteen, you got one year to register for the mandatory service, what did you think about my offer? Wanna join with me?" If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "Sounds like a plan," Gwen replied, though she knew Yue had a far brighter future ahead. If Yue became Alesia's Apprentice, and Alesia was her sister-in-craft, did that mean Yue had to bow and call her Aunty Gwen? "Well, enjoy the cake! I'll get some more. You want a drink, Deb?” Yue regarded her old arch-nemesis. “Man that thing could use a cup holder huh? Why not transmute one?" Deb laughed. "I am only using it for a week or so; then I start on crutches." 'Ding!' Gwen's Message Device pinged. "Excuse me." She moved outside into the corridor. "Hello?" "Hi, Gwen." A masculine voice came over the phone. "Happy Birthday." "Dad?!" Gwen replied in earnest surprise. "Don't act so surprised, as if I wouldn't know your birthday. You’re sweet sixteen after all. It feels like just yesterday you were still a little girl. You grew up so fast. I hardly had time to notice..." Was the man reading off a script? Gwen marvelled at her father's sudden verbosity. Usually, they exchanged a dozen sentences a day. In all honesty, she didn't know how to respond. This man was her father, but not in a sense that felt real or concrete. She did, however, have memories of another sweet-sixteen where she worked the graveyard shift at McDonald's, being paid award wages and feeling pleased about making almost $20 an hour. "Thank dad," she said finally. "It makes us happy that you called." "Principle Bartlett Messaged me and told me of some things that happened. I am sorry I wasn't there for all that… I hope you don't think too badly of me." If Gwen was still the insecure daughter Morye had known, she would probably be in tears, or at least drunk with sentimentality. As an adult, Gwen knew her father's call was a result of guilt-tripping on his daughter's birthday. "That's alright Dad. I understand. Let's have lunch sometimes. It'd be good to talk." "Thanks." Father and daughter each played their parts. "That's good to hear." "Dad, can you do me a favour?" Gwen had one more task for her wayward father. Her father's response was one of hesitation. Well, that didn't last long, she scoffed. At least her father was back to normal. "Do you know Grandfather's number? For his country estate?" "Ah, of course. I think I do... I'll message it to you, are you thinking of visiting?" "Yeah, there are some questions I need to ask him." "When are you going?" Her father's voice was full of relief. Maybe he thought she was asking him for money. "Tomorrow if possible." "Want me to call him? He hasn't seen you since you were ten or so, I am pretty sure he has no idea who you are if you just called out of the blue." "He's not that senile, is he?" "Oh... it's pretty bad. He was rather paranoid when I saw him last year when he made me and your mother visit with Percy... I think he forgot we were separated." "I wasn't invited?" "..." Morye's silence spoke louder than words. But blood as thicker than water right? Surely her grandfather was just senile or something. Surely he wouldn't mind answering some of her questions or giving her a hand with access to some cheaper magical items. Aren't grandfathers supposed to dote on their granddaughters? It came with the territory. "Can you call him?" "Alright. Happy Birthday, Gwen." Morye hurriedly ended the Message, leaving Gwen alone in the empty corridor. Behind the oaken door of her dorm room, she could hear the girls laughing. Feeling melancholic, she leaned against the wall, thinking of the serpent, of Henry Kilroy, of the Tower, of the friends she now possessed, at once overwhelmed by the surrealism of it all. When Gwen woke up in the mid-morning, there was a Message spell awaiting on her device. Her father had contacted her maternal Grandfather, and he was expecting her. "Gwen, can you take Percy with you? Your grandfather hasn't seen him in forever, but I am busy today. Just drop by the house and pick him up, he'll be waiting." Gwen chose not to speculate as to why her father was busy on a Sunday. In her old world, Surya Indra Huang was a retired professor, a former engineer who retired rich. Her maternal family traced their genealogy from a long line of native tea traders working for the Dutch trading consortium. There was an awful colonial air about the family history that Gwen found both fascinating and abhorrent, involving multiple feuding wives, loveless marriages, and lawsuits over land. Caught on the losing side of the feud, Surya migrated to Sydney, laid down his roots and re-married. In this world, Gwen was less sure. All she knew was that her grandfather was an eccentric Enchanter who made the family fortune bountiful enough to set up his son and daughter to not know the worries of money. He had a tumultuous relationship with his children after Gwen's grandmother passed away from illness. For some reason, Gwen had seen him two, maybe three times in the last sixteen years. Nonetheless, Gwen washed up and made her face. When she opened her wardrobe though, she saw a bag that she had not noticed in the hustle and bustle of last night. It was one of those folded, high-quality boutique bags used by branded stores. There was a card attached, and Gwen knew without reading that it had to be from her mother. With mixed feelings, she withdrew yet another Miu Miu dress, a one-piece in navy. The top was modest, covering her shoulders with a short sleeve; its length though. was notably in the style that her mother adored, the hem a few inches above the knee. How many dresses for a Storage Ring? Gwen wondered. At least she didn't have to think of what to wear, Gwen comforted herself. She opened the card that came with the package: **'Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen ~ Hope you like the dress. Wear it next time we luncheon.'** \- XXOO. H.H Not a single word of apology or remorse, Gwen snorted as she dropped the card back in the bag. As usual, the dress fit her impeccably. If nothing else, her mother knew Gwen's figure like the back of her hand. She then found a pair of beetle-black Mary Janes that went well with the dress, then slapped on mascara, gloss, and two generous dashes of eyeliner. She kissed the girls goodbye as they lazed in bed, grunting and flailing when she pecked their cheeks, then made for the station. It was Sunday, and she had to catch an interchange service from Redfern to Forrestville. At the station, she was surprised to find Percy was already waiting at the ticket gates. "How?!" Gwen marvelled, hugging her brother. "Had to leave. Do you remember how thin our walls are? Dad's banging his-" "STOP!" Gwen buried the boy's face in her bosoms. She released the boy once she was satisfied that she had sufficiently reconnected with her brother. "How you been, bud?" "Worse now that I gotta visit a weird old guy instead of shooting hoops with my friends." A typical teenage response. Gwen acknowledged. All's well with the world. "Alright, blame me, it was my fault. I made Dad call Gramps," Gwen confessed. "How about another hug to make it up to you?" The gesture drew smiles from several other passengers whose gaze had lingered on the leggy teenager, whose presence was a spot of beauteous blue dispelling the dreary monotony of public transit. Percy blushed. "Not when you're like that," he replied. In his opinion, his sister's heels and the hem of her dress drew unnecessary attention. "Too bad!" Gwen embraced her brother again, pressing him against her chest because he could be such a cute little boy when he acted his age. Give it a year or two, and she would be too self-conscious to hug and kiss him so playfully. "Stop!" he cried out. She ruffled his carefully combed hair. "It's good to see you too, buddy." "You too." Percy rubbed his forehead vigorously with his sleeve. "Can we go? Please?" The siblings took the Country Link interstate out west beyond the main confines of the city. Two hours away from Sydney and up north was the tablelands that fed the city, magically maintained by Mages and tilled by NoM farmers. The Huang country estate sat on a piece of land bordered by vineyards in a region called Windsor Downs, named after the British Imperial household of Windsor. It covered three acres; itself converted from an old winery into a sort of semi-modern country estate. Though initially intended as a holiday home for the Clan, it had long since been used exclusively by Surya Huang as his private abode, preferring solitude over the company of his children. When the train had finally arrived at Maitland, the two grandchildren awaited a pick up from the manor, After a quarter of an hour, the boxy shape of a vintage Mercedes rumbled up, a trail of wasteful mana swirling in the dust. The doors closest to Gwen and Percy opened up, revealing a woman in a rather daring outfit; a pair of cropped jeans and a spaghetti top exposing two mountainous white globes. Percy's eyes popped out of their sockets. Gwen slapped him on the head and made him sit at the back. "Hi, I am Melissa, but you can call me Mel," she introduced herself once they were all in the car. "Master Surya is expecting you." "Hi Mel," Gwen replied. "It's nice to meet you." Melissa cranked the gears of the old Merc. The car began to move. "Mel, what do you do at Gramps?" Gwen asked, her hazel eyes searching for answers. The way Melissa dressed, she could be anything. "I am his Apprentice," Mel replied. What? Gwen's gaze moved up the girl's voluptuous figure. She certainly did not look like an Apprentice. "There's two of us at the estate," Melissa dropped another bomb. Oh? Gwen turned her attention back towards the road. Melissa had a gentle face, but what was with that outfit? Gwen was starting to feel a little conscious in her choice of attire. Maybe she should have gone super casual? Perhaps her grandfather hated the couture, prim and proper look? She glanced in the rearview mirror at Percy, who wore cargo shorts and a baggy, plain polo shirt. "How's gramps? I haven't seen him in years." "He's doing well, a little grabby, but he's a good Master." Gwen furrowed her brows. "It's all harmless fun," Melissa intoned casually. "We're used to it. I mean, its a great opportunity he's given us to learn some advanced techniques. He is an artist, after all." That's sexual harassment! Gwen wanted to blurt out. What do you mean you're chill with it?! Ahead, the estate came into view, revealing a large bungalow in the style of an outback manor. Gwen took a deep breath and prayed that her grandfather wasn't a pervy old codger.

Like many estates from the Outback, The Manor was a single sprawling level fabricated from a composite network of sandstone, glass, timber and transmuted cement. From afar, the Estate had an artistic air, a contemporary facade; viewed from the front, it melded into the landscape. At the back, a good forty meters of decking extended beautifully toward a vista of rolling tablelands. Melissa kicked the handbrake then threw the stick into neutral. With the power cut, the engine's mana cores coughed and died, clinking as it cooled. Gwen opened the passenger side door and extracted her legs awkwardly, for the sunken seats preventing her from modestly removing herself. Melissa whistled. "Nice stalks, you Helena's lass?" "I am, do you know my mother?" "We've met." "Amiably?" Melissa laughed, slapping Gwen on the back so hard she had to prop herself against the car. "Funny gal huh?" She grinned. "Come on in; the master's waiting." The interior of the estate consisted of dark floors and stark walls, favouring glass wherever possible to let in the natural light. Here and there, artistic sculptures made of various materials sprouted seemingly at random. Upon closer inspection, Gwen realised the abstract figures were hyper sensuous statues of women in various states of undress. The moulding of their breasts, waists and buttocks expertly shaped as to possess an uncomfortable realism. More disturbingly perhaps, the figures were contorted artistically a manner that made them come alive. Gwen covered Percy's eyes, the boy had been inspecting a gigantic sculpture at the centre of the atrium, mesmerised by its indecency. "These... are Grandfather's work?" "Oh yes, some of his best." Melissa slapped a plump, black, obsidian buttock. "He gets incredible commissions on these you know." "Anyway, if he's not here to greet us, then he's probably in the workshop." They penetrated through house's atrium and onto the veranda. Beyond the deck, an infinity water garden extended towards the horizon, mirroring the blue sky. It created a whole world of blue beyond the decking, at the ends of which was a workshop bellowing steam and smoke. What the hell is that? Gwen mentally checked her textbooks. The building at the end looked more like a forge. An Enchanter's workplace should be akin to a watchmaker's workshop, possessed of small boxed shelves of precious materials hidden in a large elevated table, upon which were dozens of complex instruments used to make glyph scripts. Instead, from the ponderous door came a hiss of cooling steam that sent Gwen's skirt flying, forcing her to arrest the wayward hem against her buttocks. Within, she saw anvils, moulds, carving blades, dozens of filers, tongs, and what seemed to be a small mountain of ingots. With wonder, Gwen stared as a bronze statue in the shape of a voluptuous woman appeared, stark naked, walking towards them. She looked just like Melissa, only freed from the bondage of clothing, sporting wide hips that reminded Gwen of Greco statues. HOLY SHIT. Gwen's mind gave her a good kicking. A FUCKING GOLEM. As complex constructs, Golems were the highest level of craft possible for an Enchanter. Clay Golems, Iron Golems, Crystal Golems, they were invaluable tools of industry and war. As a Frontier city, Sydney invariably suffered a shortage. Was this a Bronze Golem? Gwen gushed, her heart pounding at the immense possibilities represented by this female construct. How incredible must her family be if Grandfather could create Golems? But why were there nipples on a golem? Gwen's brows furrowed. Her gaze fell lower. Ho boy! She covered Percy's eyes. Golem or no, this was no sight for a child. Those swinging fun-bags were far too realistic to be PG-13, bronze or otherwise, not to mention what was carved out downstairs. Percy was already rigid with shock, his mind penetrating into a brave new world. "Hey Tess," Melissa greeted the Golem. "Yo, welcome back," it replied. It took a moment for the metallic bronze to fade from the skin of the Golem, returning to that of flesh. The woman known as Tess turned to Gwen, whose hands covered Percy's eyes, and smirked. "Never seen a Bronze Flesh Transmute before?" She asked mirthfully. "You can't work here without Resist Hot and Cold, ideally Greater Resistance." By now, Gwen was glad she had not blurted out something about Bronze Golems. Tess walked over to a counter and placed a ring upon her finger. From within, she summoned a robe. The steam was clearing by now. Gwen could see the figure of a gnarly old man staring at yet another artistic creation. He was almost dwarfish, with dark skin and sinewy arms. His frame was skinny, practically skin and bones, with a bulbous head that swung back and forth on his stick-thin neck. Even now the old man was moulding the glowing statue, the metal deforming where his hands touched, shaping this way and that as though it was clay putty and not heated iron. "Do you like them?" A voice that sounded like rattling nails called out, echoing through the chambers of the stifling smithy. "That big one took me almost a month.” He pointed to a voluptuous creation. Gwen wasn't sure whether she should bow or perform some other supplication she was unaware of, so she curtsied. Her action appeared to please the old man, who took to walking around her slowly, ponderously inspecting every inch of her like a critic at an art gallery. "They are lovely," Gwen replied, watching her Grandfather making the rounds. She held onto the overstimulated boy with an iron grip, praying Percy wouldn't pop an erection in front of their grandfather. "Started making them a year ago!" Surya announced. "You mother refused to let your brother there take over the family business. So I've taken to work on things I always wanted to do." Gwen turned to look at Percy, who shrugged. "So you're Helena's girl. Yeah, I remember you," Surya began. "You were this big.” The Enchanter placed a hand at his chest. Gwen was tall even as a kid. “And now you're a giant!" Surya laughed. Gwen too effected a polite chuckle, hoping it would build some rapport with the strange old man. "Lovely calves, excellent contour." Surya's inspection continued. "Your father was a short bastard if I recall, and your mother has a fat ass, you lucked out." "Thanks, Grandfather," Gwen was beginning to see where her mother gets her obsessive body image compulsions. "Good, good," the old man continued. "You model?" "No Grandfather, I am an Acolyte." "Really? You any good?" "I am a Lightning Evoker, Grandfather." "No shit? really?" He raised a bushy white brow; the effect was like watching a caterpillar come to life on his face. "From whose arse did we pull you out? You sure you're Helena's daughter? Morye loved to poke around, you know. Helena was an ingrate, but your father screwed that poor, stupid girl over more times than I can count." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Surya's frankness made Gwen nervous. All she could do was smile and nod, hoping that she wouldn't say or do something to upset her Patriarch. "Still, a Quasi-elementalist." Surya rubbed his chin, once again examining Gwen as if was some newly uncovered artefact of immense interest. "Your mother tried to sell you off to the highest bidder yet?" "Not successfully," Gwen replied truthfully. The man knew his daughter well. "Heh." Surya chuckled. Gwen chuckled with him. "What did they tell you about me?" "..." Gwen wondered if she should lie, but decided against it. "They told you I was a crazy old man right? A real nutcase?" "Actually, they never talked about you at all, Grandfather." Gwen needlessly drilled their relation into her response, hoping that the idea of an endearing granddaughter would bring forth some form of filial sentimentality. Despite her best effort, however, her grandfather flew into a wrathful trance. "Typical... typical... ungrateful kids, I gave them everything... hmmph... call me crazy..." Gwen realised she had better lower his blood pressure before he blew a gasket. "Percy is here with me." Gwen brought her brother forward in the manner of one performing a show-and-tell. "Your dearest grandson!" "Hmmph!" Surya grunted with annoyance, still muttering angrily. Percy punched Gwen in the rib. "Whoops! You've set the master off!" Gwen turned to see Tess approach with a face full of concern. "His mind tends to run off the rails at times; it could be hours before he recovers." Gwen watched as the woman sidled up to her grandfather, pressing her body into him like mother coddling a child. "Surya~ Surya, you want to have a drink? Something to eat?" Gwen watched her grandfather's face slowly relax, the anger draining from him like molten bronze from a crucible. Eventually, the wrinkles on his face relaxed. He looked up, once again taking note of the world around him. "Wha? Oh, Tess, yeah, sure, water for me." Phew, Gwen relaxed. Had her grandfather lost his shit, that would have been the end of her visit. "Tess, are you Grandfather's apprentice too?" "Yep, I am his Transmutation Apprentice. Mel is his Enchanter." "Oh," Gwen looked for Melissa, the woman had gone to get some water for the old Magus. "Thanks for looking after him," Gwen replied earnestly. Having never taken care of anyone in her life, she couldn't imagine the hassle of looking after someone suffering from senility. "Just give him a coddle, dear." Teresa winked at Gwen. "He's sweeter than you know." Gwen turned to Percy expectantly. Her brother's face informed her that there was no way he was hugging his grandfather and that she should be the one to do it. "You guys want anything?" Tess asked. "Just water, thanks." "I'll have a lemonade." Percy raised his hand. "Sure, I'll be back,” Tess gave Surya a peck on the forehead. "You just keep interrogating him." "Mel, Tess and I are entirely professional, just so you know," Having regained his lucidity, Surya explained as he walked Gwen out of the workshop towards the infinity feature under the back veranda. "Not at all like your father." "Of course, Grandfather." Gwen followed demurely, watching him deciding between a wicker couch and a small alfresco dining set. He chose the dining set as it offered both Gwen and Percy a seat. "So, why are you here? Your father was pretty vague on the subject," Surya began. "Grandfather, I wanted to ask you some questions," Gwen said sweetly. "That and I wanted to see you." Her declaration brought a smile to Surya's cracked lips. "Is that all?" "But... in truth, there is a more dire reason for my visit. I am in need of funds, Grandfather," Gwen confessed. "As well as magical items." Percy almost spat out the glass of lemonade he was nursing. He gazed up at his sister, demanding to know if she came all this way to beg. If so, why the hell was he here? "Helena not giving you an allowance?" Surya looked at Gwen sceptically. “Your father broke or something?" "I would rather not," Gwen replied, lowering her voice modestly. "I would prefer to work for an income if possible, but I don't know how to go about it.” "Understandable." Surya thought a little about Gwen and her circumstances and acknowledged that in her place, he would also prefer not to be in her mother's debt. "How about your Uncle? He's got the lion's share of what I had left them. Isn't he living in a new house in Kirribilli?" Gwen explained what had happened the last time she went by the Manor. Surya grumbled cynically. "Social climbers..." He sighed. "All those years of Spellcraft and hard work, and my kids are just social climbers without a Path." "Well, Richard is doing very well. He got a commendation to the Four Houses at Prince's..." "I heard." Surya regarded his Granddaughter, whose features looked nothing like his own. She was tall, lithe, and had her mother's hazel eyes and dark hair. "So you're the reason Richard got that placement. How well do you know this Alesia de Botton?" "We're acquaintances," Gwen lied. "She was my Instructor." Surya mulled over the news in his mind while Gwen waited in silence. Tess and Melissa returned once more with snacks. Surya took the chance to properly introduce his Apprentices. The girls were twins that Surya had found by chance while selling his artworks. One was a Transmuter, and the other an Enchanter. They took a liking to the old master’s craft, and Surya was happy to have them as his live-in students. In this world, the Convent of the Craft was far more binding than that of the blood of the womb, and so the girls became Surya's constant companions. As for Percy, Surya gave the boy a few kind words, then nothing more. Since Helena was adamant that Percy would attend Prince's, which meant serving the Four Houses, which involved travelling away from Sydney, it would not be possible for Percy to take over the family business. At any rate, Percy had to Awaken first, and the chance that an Evoker and an Abjurer would produce an Enchanter was slim indeed. "So, what Path are you taking?" Surya continued to grill Gwen about her aspirations. "I can't conclusively say, but here's what I do know..." Gwen told him of her desire to finish high school, enter the military and join one of the government agencies. It was typical of any high-achiever Magus wannabe, but it was realistic and Gwen had the potential. "...And for that, you need money and items." Surya finished. "Yes Grandfather," Gwen affirmed. "What makes you think I am so generous? After all, we have only met twice, once with you as a child, and again now." Gwen felt her professional acumen tingle, the tone of her Grandfather’s voice suggested willingness, although the man desired a more valid excuse. The degree of his 'help' therefore, would be dependent entirely upon her sincerity. "I have this..." Gwen opened her hand, and there was the shimmering chromatic scale that the Serpent had given her. It glinted under the sun with a prismatic display of rainbow hues. Surya exploded from where he had sat, clasping her hand. "Where did you get this?!" He uttered in disbelief, his spittle landing all over her palm. Gwen said nothing. She could feel a tingle in her mind; the Geas was in full effect. Surya swallowed. "Is it yours?" Gwen nodded. “Who gave it to you?” Gwen remained mum. Surya considered his options. It was evident to him that his Granddaughter was keeping a secret. The object was, by his expert eye, something that belonged to a being of at least Ancient tier. Such a scale was an exceedingly rare material that appeared only once or twice a decade, generally after an extensive Subjugation or Purge. Considering the recent news cycle, Surya could manage an educated guess as to its origin. If so, why did Gwen have it and why can she not speak of it? Either way, he was tempted. An Enchanter receiving rare ingredients with questionable origins was the mithril standard for the tetragram-glyph. The profession would hardly exist if every prudish crafter were bothered by dubiously sourced materials, be it the Grey Market under the Tower, or the Obsidian Exchange. The more an Enchanter worked on expensive and exotic materials, the greater their craft could grow. At the proficiency of Surya's skills, nothing short of black zone materials could extend his Spellcraft. Hoping the temptation was enough, Gwen closed her hand, cutting off Surya's longing gaze. "Would you like to work on it?" She proposed, blinking her long lashes. No shit I would like to work on it, Surya grumbled sulkily. He regarded his Granddaughter in a new light. She wasn't here to beg - no, she was here to negotiate! A curious smile touched the old Enchanter's lips; he found himself smiling despite the suspicion that he was being played. How old was the girl now? Fourteen? No, with a figure like that, at least Sixteen. Her mother never did possess a mind for manipulation, Helena was an open palm that rudely asked for more. "What would you like to have it crafted as?" Surya spoke carefully. "Something defensive. I am lacking when it comes to shielding and fortification." "Hmm..." Surya pondered the options. The Scale possessed the properties of all major elements, which meant that he could potentially create something unique and highly specialised. "How's are your Shielding spells?" "Terribly weak against solid projectiles." "Well," Surya began. "I can make you an Elemental-Shift item with an inbuilt Shield attunement. You'd be able to make any Prime Elemental shield as if you had Affinity. Though that Affinity is going to be minimal." Gwen pondered the pros and cons of the proposed effects. The most important aspect of this was the advent of casting Water Shield, which was near-perpetual and self-regenerating, or the Earthen Shield, which could ward against hard-point attacks. "Give it some thought," Surya proposed. "Personally, I suggest a passive item. Active items prevent you from casting other spells, so its uses are limited." "Oh," Gwen replied disappointedly. For a moment, she thought she had found a rule-breaking cheat. "A passive item can be just as potent. It could increase your resistance - in this case, all Primary Elements, which make up for eighty per cent of all Mages. Ah, if only you were a Conjurer, it would be pretty interesting if you could use Elemental Shift to bring to life all sorts of Elemental beings. There used to be a Mage I know that could combine all four elements - a Plant Mage, wouldn't that be great?" At the mention of 'Conjurer', Gwen gazed at her Grandfather awkwardly. A titanic battle of truth and deceit raged within her. Should she tell him the truth? She didn't want to waste creating an item that didn't take advantage of all her Schools of Magic. An expression of indecision appeared on Gwen's face. "What, you're a Conjurer?" Surya sputtered, his mind conjuring an unlikely hypothesis. As an Enchanter, he was hypersensitive to motes of mana from different Schools. When Gwen froze on the spot, he knew his suspicion was right. "You're shitting me!"

“Well?” Surya’s face flushed with anticipation. “Out with it!” “I am... untrained,” Gwen said slowly. "But... you can see a Conjuration Sigil in your Cognisance meditation?" Gwen nodded. Surya's skeletal frame began to shake like a seismic fault on the verge of eruption. The man was understandably excited that his line would produce a Magus, perhaps a Magister. "Grandfather..." Gwen touched Surya's wrists carefully. He better not be having a heart attack, she thought. That would be a disaster. When Surya's eyes refocused, they had an intensity reserved only for his most celebrated erotic sculptures. "Does your mother know?" Gwen shook her head. "Do you want her to know?" Gwen shook her head. "Morye?" Her neck was beginning to strain. "Alright. Why's he here?" Surya pursed his thick lips, turning his eyes toward Percy. Gwen too, followed Surya's eyes to see her brother, realising that he had just heard their entire conversation. Oh dear, now the cat's out of the bag. Gwen slapped herself mentally. Percy had an uncanny ability to be invisible when he wanted to. He must have developed it to evade their mother. "Percy." Surya's voice took on a hard, obsidian edge. "Look at me, boy." Percy looked up at Gwen and Surya. As a Selective High School student, his intelligence was without doubt. From his expression, they could see that he understood his sister had dropped a Fireball in the water, and now he was drenched by the blowback. Beside Percy, Gwen wondered just how profoundly her brother understood her circumstances. "Yes?" Percy piped up, his voice croaking. "You tell no one about this," Surya intoned with absolute seriousness. "I hear one word out of your mother or father about Gwen's Conjuration talent, and you're disowned. You have my word as your Patriarch, do you understand?" Percy nodded. Gwen winced, hoping that his brother didn't take their grandfather's threat too unkindly. If Percy indeed were a smart kid, he would know the reason all their resources were pledged toward him was due to Gwen's incompetence. Now that Gwen was a dual-element, dual-school caster, the question of inheritance would arguably be up in the air. "Good. Leave us now. Mel! Tess!" Surya called out for the twins. "Yes, Master?" Tess was now properly attired. "More drinks?" "No. Take Percy and show him around the compound. I need to talk to Gwen in private." "Sure thing, Percy, come on, let Aunt Tess show you something cool..." Percy shot Gwen and Surya a worried look. "Go," Surya commanded. Percy dejectedly followed. "I'll keep an eye on him," Surya muttered in a disgruntled tone. "He's more like Kwan than any of us, I think. You can hear the little cogs turning in his head." "It's alright, Grandfather." Gwen's gaze lingered on her brother until he was out of sight. "Percy's a good kid at heart." "Maybe drop a Lesser Geas on the boy?" Surya persisted, "He's young, might survive it yet." "That won't be necessary, Grandfather." "Call me Opa," Surya suddenly declared. "Its how we say grandfather in the old country. My grandfather loved to hear me say it." "Opa!" Gwen uttered adoringly, allowing the O to linger on her tongue before pushing out the P with honeyed sweetness. Surya shook with pleasure, the smile on his face split from ear to ear. "What a wonderful word," Surya confessed with tenderness. "Your mother kept you away from me, and your father was too afraid to visit. To think that I have three grandchildren and you are the first to call me Opa." Surya then scratched his head, unsure of how to proceed further. Certainly, he felt no love for the grandson used to coax him into giving up more money, but Gwen's unexpected presence was refreshing and delightful. Gwen responded by leaning over and wrapping her long arms around her grandfather, burying his face in her blue cotton dress. His skeletal frame felt like a bone rack wearing his skin; the vitality within somehow surviving time's fierce embrace. He patted her back awkwardly. Unlike the rest of his body, his fingers were hard and steady, the hands of an artist and craftsman. "Come with me." He began to walk briskly. "Let me show you the Workshop." They proceeded across the elevated deck, passing Percy and the sisters. Percy looked as though he was sleepwalking, disinterestedly nodding at each sculpture introduced by Tess and Melissa, having lost all fascination for flailing breasts and perky bottoms. The Enchantment Workshop sat on the east wing of the estate. Gwen noted with interest the protection glyphs surrounding the premise. Their glow was visible even in daylight. "Precious materials attract unsavoury attention," Surya noted her concern. "I am frankly shocked that you carried the chromatic scale on your person." Gwen felt a sudden permeation of cold perspiration. Like an idiot, she had wandered around town with an invaluable object. Surya invoked an unlocking glyph. The doors opened, revealing a textbook workshop covered with tools and hundreds of drawers built into row upon row of shelving. Gwen further noted that even the interior had many wards in place. "My sanctum," Surya said proudly, spreading his hands. He gestured for her to take a seat on one of the stools. "Who's your Instructor?" "From school?" "No," Surya scoffed. "Your real Instructor." "I can't tell you, Opa," Gwen replied apologetically. "Secrets huh? I love secrets." Surya scratched his rough white beard thoughtfully. "I say you're under magical compulsion, not a surprise, considering your talent and the origin of that scale. Care to play a game?" "Opa?" "Just nod or shake." Gwen nodded. "Is he a man?" Gwen nodded. "Is he a Magus?" Gwen shook. "Military?" Gwen shook. "That's all I need to know," Surya smiled and took a deep breath. "My granddaughter, apprentice to one of the Ten." Gwen's eyes widened. "What? A senior Mage can't teach you shit, and your master's not a Magus. There are only three women Magisters in Oceania's Cabal. Do you think Magisters grow on trees? How many non-military Magisters do you think are in Sydney? You can count them on your hands, you know." Surya tapped the oaken table beside him. "Blaire, Walken, Lin, Ferris, Gonne, Kilroy, Uther..." Gwen tried to keep her poker face intact. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Gonne-Kilroy-Uther..." Gwen blinked. "Kilroy huh? That old dog! Thinks he can have my cute granddaughter! He's dreaming!" Sweat beaded on Gwen's forehead. "You're good." Surya laughed heartily, "for a _noni,_ you got a nice poker face, but you can't trick someone like me. Your pupils dilated when I said his name, don't underestimate the eyes of a master Enchanter!" "You're amazing Opa." Gwen had to admit, that was both impressive and dangerous. Hopefully, her Opa's astute mind wouldn't trigger her Geas and squash her head like a melon in a vice. "Yeah, yeah, flattery will get you everywhere." Surya snorted, pleased with himself. "Let's get down to business." "Please do, Opa." "So..." Surya continued. "For crafting a unique, tier 6 item, I charge about this much." He showed her a figure by raising six fingers. Gwen froze. She can't afford that. "Do you want to pay in instalments?" "Opa..." Gwen forced a smile to her face, realising suddenly what her grandfather had done. The sly old fox. He had deflated her negotiatory momentum by pivoting to their loving relationship as Opa and granddaughter! Now she was on the back foot! Should she remind him that any other Enchanter would love to work on the Scale? That would be awkward; they just hugged. She really should have clinched the deal right there and then. "Opa you know I am penniless." "Opa isn't a charity!" Surya grinned, enjoying Gwen's squirming, his demeanour full of sadistic satisfaction. Oh, that's how you want to play it huh? Gwen chuckled internally. If the old man wanted to play mind games, that was fine with her. Meanwhile, her Opa continued unabated. "Opa has costs too you know, I need mithril from black zones, enchanted gold from the Grey Market, specialised blade tips forged by tier 7 Transmuters..." "Opa..." Gwen purred, the plosive 'p' lingering in the air. Her Opa gulped. Gwen leaned forward on her tippy toes, one hand strategically placed between her thighs to pull her dress tightly around her shapely legs, her off-hand pressed against her chest as though she was short of breath and deathly afraid. Still seated, she shifted her balance, mounting the workshop stool to swing her legs to one side. Her lips parted in distress, her eyes working up a mote of moisture. "Opa... I have no money... I don't want to sell my body to Uncle's friends..." A bolt of lightning struck Surya full in the chest, setting his cynical husk of a heart ablaze with pathos. "Don't... even joke about that." Surya coughed as Gwen smacked his back to ease his recovery. Gwen retrieved a glass of water for the old man. "You're a piece of work, grandchild." Surya swallowed, clearing his throat. "Touché." Their eyes met. "Hee hee hee, ha ha ha!" Surya exploded into roaring laughter; he hasn't felt so enthralled in years. The elation was liberating, as though a constriction around his chest had been removed; an irritating kidney stone passed at last. "Alright, alright." He patted Gwen's hand, taking from her fingers the chromatic scale. "I'll do this thing for you pro bono, just this once!" "Thanks, Opa!" Gwen gave him another hug. A second into their joyous reunion, Gwen felt the old man pat her buttocks. Rather than flinging the old man from her like a spider, she hugged him with all her might. "Arrrgh!" Surya cried out. "Can't breath!" Gwen released the old man from her deadly koala-embrace. "Can't take a joke, sheesh..." Surya moved to one side of the workshop, placing the scale into a heavily warded draw. "Gonna take a good three-four month, I am afraid," he informed her. "Are you going to join the Sydney Inter-High Tournament? I should be able to finish it before then." Gwen watched as Surya withdrew a wooden ring box, casually tossing it towards her. "Collateral for the Material, its a small Storage Ring, about four litres of space, operation Glyph is inscribed inside the box." Gwen held the box in her hand, her heart throbbing with jubilance. "Opa, you don't have to..." "Nonsense!" He battered a hand at her. "You're on Team Opa now, and Opa is very generous." Gwen's lips split to reveal pearly white teeth; a smile so entrancing as to make Surya falter, wondering how the hell his crude daughter could have given birth to something so elegant. “What’s this Inter-High Tournament?” Gwen asked quizzically. “A cross-school competition,” Surya replied. “Don’t tell me your school hasn't enrolled you.” “We’re a public school...” “You go to a public school?” “Blackwattle...” Surya was speechless. “Your talent is wasted In Blackwattle,” he critiqued as a matter of fact. “You mentioned you needed money right?” “Yeah...” "Want to beg and live on the charity of others?" Surya raised an eyebrow. Gwen shook her head. “Good. You should enter the Tournament then. The prize for the inter-high Championship is 900 HDM Crystals.” Gwen held her breath. That's enough to see her through university, maybe even enough to start an investment or two. “Split amongst your team of course. Addition prizes exist for other criterions such as control, versatility, power, defence, MVP, and so on.” “I don’t think my school can enter...” Gwen said sceptically. Surely someone would have mentioned it otherwise. “Bosh! Any school can enter if they pass the preliminaries, only the selective schools and a few private academies are seeded.” Gwen took note but otherwise said nothing. The decision wasn’t hers to make. It wasn’t as if Surya or Gwen could register her school against their Principal's will. "Do you have a team?" "I have a Tier 4 Fire Evoker and a Tier 2 hybrid healer, as well as... a Tier 3 Earth Transmuter..." Surya's raised a critical brow. "A healer huh? That could be a real game changer. In that case, I reckon you need an Illusionist. Hardly anyone's got True Seeing at the lower tiers. Of course, the mundane thing to do is to get an Abjurer..." "I don't believe we have any good illusionists at school-" Gwen interjected. "Shame, see if you can dig one up. Do you know how rare it is to find a healer at your level? Until your Cleric is out of mana, your team can ignore minor injuries. The Questing component should be a cinch." "I'll consider it Opa." Surya said nothing more. They toured around the workshop after that. Gwen's Grandfather showed her some of the projects he was currently working on. A mundane Ring of Water Breathing, a collection of Ioun Stones still in the progress of being inscribed, a pair of Slippers that allowed one to fasten one's feet to surfaces like a spider. "Enchantment is using crystals to create, hopefully, something worth more crystals than the ingredients you expended," Surya explained. "The higher the tier, the higher the turnover." "What's your best recipe Opa?" Gwen asked innocently. "You got any more secrets to trade?" Gwen smiled and said nothing. "Then you can wait to find out." With that, they exited the Workshop. "You want to stay for the night?" Surya asked, "I can have the sisters cook something nice." "That won't be necessary Opa," Gwen answered sweetly. "I need to head back to the dorm." "You board with two other girls" Surya enquired. "Is there much privacy?" "No, not at all." "Mind if I come and see how you're all living?" "..." "I am joking of course." "I suspected as much, Opa." The duo chuckled awkwardly. "I better take Percy home before it gets too dark, we still need to travel to the station." "Of course. It was good to meet my cute Cucu Perempuan." They hugged one more time, with Gwen wary of her Grandfather's wandering hands. "Model for me sometimes," he said. "I'd love to," Gwen replied as Percy was brought out. "Remember what I told you, Percy," Surya noted sternly. "And tell your mother to leave Gwen alone." "Yes Grandpa," Percy replied. He can't believe he wasted a day doing nothing, and now he had attracted the ire of a crazy old codger. Melissa then drove the siblings to the countryside station, where the final city-bound train was due to depart in half an hour. Surya watched the car disappear into the distance, smiling and cackling to himself. Numerous amusing ideas ran their course through the twisted channels of his deviant mind, but for now, he had a Message to deliver. He drew a glyph in the air. A Message spell fired off beside his ear. "Surya? It's been a while, old friend. What's the matter?" Henry Kilroy, head of the Ten, answered the Message. The Magister's tone, however, was one of bemusement. Surya knew better than to Message his private glyph unless it was something urgent. "Henry old boy, you owe me big time." "Oh really? I think you still owe me for ripping me off, old friend. I still can't believe I paid you forty HDMs for that sculpture. I asked for something suitable for the lobby, not something to make the guards blush." "Oh I am not talking about that," Surya fired back. "I want to know what you did to hook your teeth into my cute Cucu Perempuan." "Is... is that a Magical Creature of some kind? The Tower collects dozens of the damn summons very month, how would I know which one's yours?" "My Cucu Perempuan, ya old fart! My granddaughter!" "You don't have a granddaughter you senile old fool." "So much for your tree-ring endemic memory! Surely you know my Gwen? Dark hair, hazel eyes, long legs." "... I cannot confirm nor deny awareness of this Gwen Song." "Come on, old mate, she's my cute Cucu Perempuan; I am serious here." "Really?" "Yes." "By your oath as a Magus." "By the Credo, if I have to." "Well, well..." The Magister fell silent. "I still don't believe it. How did an ugly rock cod like you give birth to a rainbow trout?" "It's called good genetics, Henry, you should try it sometimes." "I got my Apprentices; kids are beyond me." "Well, who gave you permission to take mine?" "Why so salty? I still think you're lying. We've known each other for how long now? When's the last time you mentioned a granddaughter?" "It's a long story... Listen, I want to know more about her, what's her deal, what are your plans." "How much do you know?" "I know she's a dual-school and dual-element, and I know she brought me a bloody Mythical tier Serpent Scale..." "Jesus, Surya." Henry's voice rose an octave. "You could have cracked her head open like an egg! How much did she tell you?" "Nothing at all." "Thank God." "Why?" "She's got Greater Geas attached to her Astral Body." "YOU BASTARD!" "Look, its a long story. What're you doing now?" Henry asked. "Nothing more important than my cute Cucu Perempuan. Why? What are you thinking?" "I'll clear my schedule. Can you come in?" "Alright, ya better not have done anything else to her, you deathless old dog..." On the train, Gwen sat in silence with her brother Percy. Her brother had not spoken to her at all during the two-hour long trip. Instead, he preferred to answer in grunts and gestures, finding intense interest in the scenery flying past the window. "Suit yourself," Gwen replied sulkily. The carriage was empty, so she produced the wooden box from Surya. By now, Gwen had memorised the glyph for activation, wearing the Storage Ring on her right ring finger. She waved her hand across the box. "!" It disappeared. "!" It appeared. She repeated the process a dozen times, testing its quirks. From observation, the absorption had a maximum distance of a few centimetres. Within, items stowed within the ring's pocket dimension remained in stasis. Four litres. It was a modest space, but it was enough for many things: crystals, I.D, cosmetics, light clothing, an extra pair of shoes. As the train pulled closer to the city, more passengers boarded. Gwen rested her hand subtly, hiding the fact that she was wearing close to a hundred HDMs on her right ring finger. She caught a glance from Percy, his eyes green with envy, and fought down an impulse to give him the Storage Ring. It was strange how things were playing out so similarly between her new and old world. In her past life, Percy likewise went to a Selective School, surpassing Gwen academically. When Gwen's success accumulated, he grew increasingly distant. When Percy started his own family, he had cut her from his life entirely. It was saddening even now to think that though every member of her family were all alive; they all went their separate ways. Her mother left the country with her new husband. Her father lived his own life with his young bride. Their grandfather she never heard from again. Her brother never called. When the train pulled into Forrestville, Gwen alighted with her brother, who left without a word. After switching to the inner city line, she leaned her head against the window pane, then lost herself in the dull thrum of locomotion.

"I have set up a schedule for you." Master Kilroy's tired voice echoed through the Message spell beside Gwen's ear. "Alesia will bring it to you later today." Gwen had not expected to hear from her Master so soon and therefore was utterly surprised when a Message bloomed beside her ear at 6 AM, pulling her from the embrace of slumber. She surveyed the dorm room, seeing that Yue and Elvia slept unperturbed, Gwen realised her Master had been thoughtful enough to send her a Private Message Spell. Clearing her head, she returned a 'Thank you', then quietly dressed, slipping into her school uniform. Training schedules and classes. Hopefully, life was back to normal. Normalcy survived until morning assembly, where Principal Bartlett introduced their new Instructors. Alesia was, unsurprisingly, staying on until the end of the year, filling in for those who had unfortunately departed. If nothing else, Gwen knew that Alesia also wanted to keep an eye on Yue, whose moniker - in Alesia's eyes - was already Apprentice number one. After Alesia, the new instructors were introduced. The first was a nondescript woman. The next an ex-teacher brought out of retirement. And then Gunther introduced himself. The Radiant Mage came on like a Demi-God gracing the mortal realm. Instantly, his presence filled the auditorium, making the place shrink by the grace of his very existence. Someone squealed, then all hell broke loose. Gwen rolled her eyes, wondering if Gunther's charisma was a side effect of his Radiant element. Her Astrology Primer stated that prolonged use of particular elements altered one's physicality and mentality. Yue was hot-headed, her body resistant to cold and heat. Jun was cool-headed, his body resistant to cold. Debora had a toned figure with minimal fat; her once fair complexion now honeyed-caramel. Elvia channelled Positive Energy, so surely that was why she as an angel. Alesia had a personality that was fire personified, and Master Henry had a face like a tree stump, although that could be his age. Gwen wondered how her own physiology would be affected and what her physiological changes would be. Maybe she'll grow two red dots on her face and start shouting 'Pika!' Or perhaps, Gwen thought more frightfully; she could become an anorexic shadow, forever hungry. "Oh my..." Yue wiped away a stubborn trail of drool beside her small pink mouth. "I never knew what my type was, but..." They watched as Gunther introduced his alias. A returned Vet, just entering the education industry; please take care of me, and so on. He announced that he was, like Alesia, a Magus by trade, an Evoker - Abjurer, with a talent for the Quasi-elemental Plane of Radiance, between Fire and the Positive Plane. "Wow... that's rare, like one in a million rare," Elvia remarked. "Why are we getting Instructors that could hold the position of head teachers in private schools?" Yue shrugged, "Maybe Bartlett is well connected? All the old guys are military, most of them served during that the Great Coral War. Some of them are surely big wigs up in the chain by now." Then, to their surprise, Alesia stomped onto the stage and took Gunther by the arm. "He is my husband," she announced. The crowd had gone completely silent. Then an uproar exploded across the hall, both boys and girls wailing in frustration and disappointment. Behind the teachers, Gwen saw Principal Bartlett facepalm. "Yes... Instructor Alesia is correct; she is my wife!" Gunther recovered in an instant. Taking Alesia by the waist, he raised their hands together triumphantly. They look like the President and the First Lady on a rally, Gwen chortled. She would never want to be in a situation where she and Gunther had to contest a platform. Sharing the limelight with that man was the dictionary-definition of been upstaged. For some indiscernible reason, people began to clap. Spreading until the sound filled the auditorium. When the fiasco was finally over, Gwen returned to class. Theories continued to be taught, experiments and demonstrations performed. New teachers and old students were acquainted. Gunther instructed one of Gwen's classes, Elementalism 202, takin to the role like a fish to water; the kids eating up every word as though it were gospel delivered straight from the horse's mouth. Gwen met with Alesia after classes ended. She had sent her a Silent Message, excusing Gwen from Yue and Elvia's company. "Here's your schedule, little sister." Alesia handed over a small notebook once they met on the rooftop "Your resources will be allocated by Magus Bartlett. Have a look and see if you have any questions." Gwen took the notebook and flipped it open. It was blank. "Oh yeah, here's the glyph for dispelling the ward." Alesia stuck out her tongue playfully before teaching Gwen the incantation. Gwen invoked the glyph, watching as the words materialised. There was a message from Master Henry encouraging her to work hard and be wary of her Void element, asking her to prioritise her Lightning. The next few pages had references for books her Master had recommended, Primers and Theories that pertained to Conjuration and such. When Gwen finally got to the schedule itself, she was surprised to find that her weekend training was not in fact with Alesia, but at a familiar address. "Master knows my Grandfather?" Gwen asked incredulously. "Master Surya made several of Master's items, you know," Alesia stated. "If you had told us that you were his granddaughter, you probably could have been spared from a full-strength Geas." "Are they well-acquainted?" "Don't know," Alesia confessed. "War buddies probably. Not many military Mages survived those early days in the 70s. Those who did were the ones who worked together." Gwen flipped through the book until she caught a queer section where two weeks were outlined in purple with the simple moniker 'Field Work - Black Cat'. "Any ideas what this is?" "Oh, that." Alesia smiled nostalgically. "Master has another old war buddy, Marc, who runs a sort of mercenary Questing company. He solves client's problems that the government doesn't want to deal with, or have no resources allocated. Both me and Gunther worked for Black Cat when we were training. It was excellent for work experience, met lots of interesting people." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "There goes my school holidays..." Gwen sulked, though she understood the necessity of perfecting her craft. No amount of practice in sheltered rooms and warded fields could beat that one weekend they had spent killing actual monsters in the Green Zone. Presumably, this 'Black Cat' also offered a similar fare. "There are two weeks left for yourself if you manage to finish the quests," Alesia continued. "Gunther finished all of his in four days." "Woa, somehow I don't find that surprising." "It's an opportunity for you to make some money as well." Alesia laughed. "I recall Gunther made close to two hundred HDMs." At the sound of clinking crystals, Gwen's heart soared. "How about you?" "I finished all the subjugation requests," Alesia answered carefully. "And...?" "... then nothing." "Of course..." Gwen felt no desire to pursue Alesia's trauma. Indeed, sending Alesia on diplomatic missions would likely result in burning buildings and charred corpses. She continued to flip through the notebook. It was hand-written, meticulous drafted, every day there were activities and objectives. She flipped through the dates until she struck November, where she spotted the names of Yue and Elvia. "What's this?" Alesia took a gander herself. "Looks like training for a Team Competition." "What for?" Gwen asked; although an answer came to mind, "Looks like 3v3 format to me, but two Evokers? You wouldn't have a tank unless..." Alesia eyes flashed. "Looks like my little sis is going to have a debut as a Conjurer - Evoker!" Gwen flipped through the notebook, all the way until she reached mid-2003. "Inter-High Tournament," she read out loud, "3v3 or 5v5 champions, or MVP, is the minimum I expect from someone of your talent. We are expecting good things from you, Gwen." "We?" Gwen reread the line. "Maybe Sufina's included?" Alesia suggested. "Is entering the Inter-high comp feasible for someone like me?" Gwen inquired earnestly. Her knowledge of Spellcraft was average at best, and she had yet to exercise a single phenomenon in Conjuration. "Who participates in these things?" Alesia pointed at herself. "I swept through singles and 3v3 about fifteen years ago..." The singular pronoun caught Gwen's attention. She guessed that if Alesia could envelop the other team in a massive AoE, it was technically possible. With an affinity for Fire at Alesia's tier, her spells were twice as powerful while costing half the mana. Alesia pointed down toward the courtyard, where they could see Gunther’s new fan-club trailing behind the Radiant Mage. "...and that guy was an All-Star during his time, he swept the singles, 3v3, 5v5, the MPV, the works." Gwen found no surprises in that revelation. "What's Gunther's School of Magic?" Gwen asked. "He's an Evoker with a blend of Conjuration-Illusion," Alesia answered. "His usual Spell List consist of Signature Spells he and Master composed for his Radiant talent." "That sounds complicated," Gwen muttered, unable to imagine the process involved, much in the same way a senior science student struggled to discern the mechanics of the Large Hadron Collider. "You don't ever want to see Gunther angry," Alesia spoke without a hint of mirth. "I don't know how he does it, but he can conjure beams of light as thin as your fingers, but powerful enough to melt through a Mineral Abjurer's Shields." "He can shoot lasers?!" Gwen gasped. But that conjecture didn't make sense either, even with gigawatts of energy, Laser-cutting required time and heat to slice an object. "What are lasers?" Alesia tipped her head at the foreign word. "Beams of light?" Alesia shook her head. She pursed her lips, then tried to explain the Astro-phenomenon. "Just as your Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void consists of Void matter, the absence of light, Radiance is the heart of stars - it's the combination of Positive Energy and Fire. Our Astrologist says that our sun is a gate into the heart of the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Radiance, neat, huh?" "That is pretty neat.” Gwen looked down into the courtyard. A Mage who shoots the heat of the sun as laser beams? That doesn't seem like a mortal ability. How potent were Gunther's 'light' spells? Did they have travel time to the target? How does an opponent ward against something like that? "What's he like in combat?" Alesia tilted her head, taking on an air of nostalgia. "Gunther doesn't fight much these days, he's more of an administrator, or a deterrent against trouble, ha! There was this one time a few years ago though, Master asked us to subjugate a particularly nasty group of Trolls - big ugly Earth Elementals with regeneration. During the fight, one of them caught me mid-air and knocked the wind out of me. He grabbed me by the ankles and was about twist off my foot..." She caught Gwen with her mouth open. "Don't worry! They grow back. Master's got access to Regeneration. Anyway, just as I was gritting my teeth, there was a sizzling sound, and when I looked up, the Troll's face was gone. Like, it was just gone, where the troll's face had been, there was a smoking hole. A perfect cylindrical hole. I didn't even hear Gunther invoke his Radiant Blast! I couldn't even see a beam!" Gwen closed her mouth. "So that's how powerful Gunther was two years ago. His Radiant Blast was able to penetrate clean through a Tier 6 troll's face. One-hit K.O." "..." Gwen could scarcely even imagine it. Her lightning blast must be a feather duster in comparison. "Does someone as powerful as Gunther have a fail-safe or something..." "Like how?" Alesia blinked, her brow furrowing. "Like, what if his powers are out of control or he gets mind controlled like I almost was." "Then we better run!" Alesia laughed, her naivety and good nature incapable of registering Gwen's paranoia. "Although, it would be easier for me to summon a Meteor Shower than for a Mind Mage to penetrate Gunther's Ego." Her brother-in-craft was Apollo reborn, Gwen thought enviously. She wondered how Gunther would fare against the Serpent. Would he be the one to put the Snake down had it reached the city? Were there others like him? Demi-Gods, walking amongst men, playing politics for shits and giggles. What must it feel like for him to walk shoulder to shoulder with NoMs, knowing that a million of them wasn't worth a hair on his head? Gwen shuddered. She should be glad Gunther seemed like a top bloke. "So... when do I start the schedule?" "Technically it starts today, but do ease into it." "How closely should I follow it?" "To the letter I imagine, you'll be seeing Master every fortnight. He'll be testing you." Gwen felt the notebook in her hands. She had the distinct impression that this was not the schedule of one benefactor, but two, a Magister and an overzealous Opa. If she followed this religiously, she would be left with an hour of her own time per day. Her Saturdays and Sundays were both gone. Her school holiday plans with Elvia and Yue were up in smokes. Her extended summer holidays would be a seven-day training camp. And yet, despite it all, Gwen observed a masochistic giddiness. If her sages would buckle fortune on her back, then she must have the patience to bear the burden of love and expectation. For someone long used to neglect, a little fatherly faith was enough to have her drunk with happiness. Gwen's schedule began in earnest the next day. 6 AM: Rise, Wash, and Breakfast. 7 AM: Morning jog around the suburb, 6 kilometres of steep inclines and descents. 8 AM: Prepare for School 9.30AM: Class begins after Assembly. 11.30AM: Recess 12 NOON: Classes 1 PM: Lunch 1.30PM: Practicals 3.30PM: School ends, extracurricular training begins, Mana Management Foundations 4.30PM: Break 5 PM: Elemental Theory and Practicum 6.30PM: Supper at the Dorm 7.30PM: Combat Practice with Alesia and or Gunther. 9.30PM: Return to Dorm, wash and ready for Bed 10.30PM: Can't sleep because Elvia and Yue had endless Questions 11.30PM: Finally asleep because Gwen couldn't keep her eyes open long enough. 12 Midnight: Sweet, sweet oblivion. Gwen woke with a start, thinking that it was Monday or Tuesday, only to realise that it was Thursday or Friday. Her days and nights blended into one, her sense of time acknowledged each dreadful morning, facing the hill climb from Jubilee to Glebe Point to Wentworth Park. There were few pleasant surprises along the way, however. On one brisk morning jog, she met with a recovered Debora powering up and down the hills as though she were on flat ground. Jogging in tandem, they enjoyed a shared moment of the runner's high, thereafter taking to synchronise their schedules to share the morning routine. Debora told Gwen that she was working on her strengthening spells, trying to attain the next tier of Bronze Skin for better defence and Bronze Flesh for elemental resistance. Meanwhile, Yue had taken up training with Alesia. The Scarlet Sorceress finally hinted to Yue of the possibility of an Apprenticeship. A few weeks into the schedule, Yue then joined Gwen for Elemental Theorem and Mana Foundations. Later, she discovered that whenever Gunther trained with her, Alesia trained with Yue. The parallel made her glad and happy, putting her anxiety over Yue's future at ease. After the mid-year, the girls had to say goodbye to Jun and Henley, who was now going to enrol and begin their military service. To the boys’ surprise, Alesia pulled a few strings, and they both managed to get into the Divisions most suited to their talents. Jun entered an Officer's training school with a commendation for Valor during the Serpent incident. Henley entered the Intelligence Division, where he received the opportunity to focus on his Divination. Gwen received a half-day recess for the boy's sending away party, and the friends promised to see one another outside of school as young adults. By late July, she had mastered elementary Conjuration and was fast approaching her first milestone: a special ceremony for all Conjurers. It was to take place at her Grandfather's estate, where both Opa and Master had spared no expense creating a complex and expensive Summoning Circle. According to a cheeky Yue, this was the moment in which all fledgeling Conjurer lost their proverbial virginity. Gwen was to receive her first summon, their first companion, a being whose existence was tied to their own - a Familiar for life.

Gwen snuck out from the dorm bright and early Sunday morning, snug in a tapered Tee, jeans and soft white sneaker, leaving behind her sleeping companions. She had asked for permission to let Elvia and Yue in on her secret but was turned down by her mentors on the grounds of loose-lips sink ships. They had told her that if she was to have a debutante moment in the Inter-High and catch her opponents off guard, she should keep the full extent of her abilities scarce. "Especially your Void talent," Gunther solemnly informed her. "It's a lethal element for both yourself and others. Until your mind and body grow into it, avoid using it." Having no desire to pass out mid-channel, Gwen took Gunther's advice to heart. She made the now familiar trip to the tableland estate up the Hunter, marvelling at the change in scenery as the warm winters of Sydney gave way to moody spring showers. The wattles were now in full bloom, the flame trees alive with pink galas feeding in packed arrays of gay scarlet. Paddocks of shivery grass burst into fields of jezebels, covering the countryside in unnamable wildflowers of every colour and hue. When Gwen stepped off the country platform, the vista was sublime. She could sense motes of mana palpably drifting through the crosswind. Melissa came to pick her up. As usual, the two women sharing moments of mirth as the old Mercedes rumbled down the gravelly road. When they arrived at the estate, Gwen found both her Opa and Master having tea beside the infinity water feature. “Master.” Gwen bowed deeply, and then again to her grandfather. “Opa.” “Gwen.” Master Henry looked unchanged, an old professor in tweed. “Hi, sweetie!” A voice called out from the infinity pool. Gwen turned to see Sufina in the guise of a small girl, likely to save on mana. She had both stiletto feet in the pool and looked to be having a good, long soak, the water rippling around her bare legs in twin concentric circles. Not far from the infinity pool was a raised platform of earth, upon which was an intricate system of glyphs in the form of a summoning circle. From her studies, Gwen recognised it was a medium-tier warding system used for constraining tier 3 - 6 beasts. As the cost for potency was exponential, her Opa had evidently spared no expense. Gwen took a deep breath, calming her nerves. “Any particular advice before I begin, Master?” Henry smiled in that gentle, sagely manner that she had grown accustomed to over the last few months. “Whatever comes to you naturally, my child.” “Bah!” Surya ejected two gusts of air from his nostrils. “With the amount I spent on that circle, Gwen better summon something special.” “Now-now old friend, let's not get too ahead of ourselves. It will do her no good to contact something she cannot control. A Conjurer’s first beast is always special, and one too powerful or unruly would only ruin their development.” “What was your first familiar Master?” Gwen asked curiously. Henry’s eyes moved kindly to Sufina. “When I met Sufina, she was only a tier 2 wood sprite, too weak to be useful in combat even. But I knew though, from the moment our minds touched, that we were meant to be Summoner and Familiar. She had grown much since those days when I was a young man, more powerful than myself in many ways, and she has more room to grow yet.” Gwen nodded. Growing together with your familiar, that sounded very nice indeed. Her master was telling her not to mind if she found something that appeared weaker than she had anticipated. Of course, she wouldn't mind! For a woman with two cats, living with a companion animal was par for the course. “I think that’s wonderful, Master, I look forward to raising and caring for my own Familiar too. I want to raise my Familiar to become the very best; like no Familiar ever was. This summoning is a test, to raise them is my cause.” Henry smiled warmly, satisfied with her response, Gwen had a way with words which always pleased him. “You warm my old bones, child,” he praised her articulation. “Nonetheless, let all things be as nature intends. Clear your mind. Allow the mana to flow through the Sigil unimpeded. Whatever your Familiar turns out to be, I can assure you; you won't be disappointed.” “Well, with the rarity of materials you requested from me, nature better provide something worth the weight in mithril,” Surya intoned sulkily. “Surya...” Master Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gwen possesses the essence of that serpent. She also possesses two elements. One of which is Void. God knows what will come out of that Quasi-Elemental Plane. For all we know, she might open a portal to the abyss." Gwen felt her confidence deflate. "You'll be fine dear, whatever comes out is bound to make a contract with you, if it ever wants to leave.” Her Opa grinned wickedly. "I had the warding drawn with gryphon blood; the seals reinforced with powdered mithril. The glyph themselves are your Master's own. Hell, if you summoned an Abyssal Drake, it would still take a good few minutes to turn loose. In that time, your Master here would have it beaten into submission." "I am beginning to think that asking for your aid was a bad idea," Henry remarked sceptically. Gwen regarded the circle. What would come out? A pair of dogs would be nice, cats even better. Please don't let it be something weird, like slimes or a slug. "Up ya get, girl!" Surya slapped Gwen on the buttocks, sending her stumbling onto the platform. "Show this Master of yours what you can do!" "Gwen, be careful," Henry added, shooting Surya a disapproving look. If that had been Alesia, Surya would be bereft of his eyebrows. Gwen located the centre of the Summoning Sigil on the floor and positioned herself within the array of glyphs. She recreated the complex network of glyphs enabling the summoning of familiars within her mind's eyes, then allowed the mana from her Astral Body to permeate her physical being, forming a complex network of conduits. Below her, the summoning circle began to glow, its glyphs flashing and writhing as though alive, consuming their precious ingredients. "Steady... steady..." Surya mouthed beside Henry, but Gwen was already within a world of her own. First, she sent a clear stream of pure mana to stabilise the Circle, her channelling steady and without deviation. She had trained unrelentingly for the last three months under the tutelage of her Master and siblings, who had spent a small fortune on mana crystals to fortify her reserves. After double and triple-checking the spell, she was ready for the final invocation. "Summon Familiar!" The space within the portal distorted, reaching out into the aether and creating a vortex that would deposit whatever being her distinct mana signature plucked out from the Elemental Planes. Please don't be something with more than four legs, Gwen prayed. Or possess a distended secondary jaw with acidic blood. All of a sudden, she felt a tug against her soul, overwhelmed by an all too familiar sense of vertigo. She saw within her mind's eye dark motes blending into a swirl of black mana like fish in a tidal pool. For months, the Void motes had renounced her command, refusing to be formed, moulded or employed. But now they moved, stabbing at the edge of her mind, seeking a way out. From Master Henry, she knew that every manifestation of the Void would cost her a pound of flesh. The moment she manifests the Void in the real world, her body would flood with Negative Energy. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. You want out? She taunted the ball of tenebrous energy scornfully. Obey me! Gwen willed herself to contain the volatile mass, forcing it to scatter. The more she constrained it, however, the more fiercely it struggled, dashing itself again and again against her conduits, sending out shockwaves of pain and agony into her physical body. Gwen grunted with exertion. She was spending too much of her concentration on containing this thing. If she fought it any longer, she would be too distracted to maintain the Summoning Circle. Fine! She derided the thrashing blob. Out with it! Gritting her teeth, she awaited her trial by Void. She was going to face the inevitability of using her second element sooner or later, though she would have preferred building up a stronger fortitude. Master Henry had told her that the only way to safely manifest her Void element was to sparingly use it in a manner that was offset by a vast amount of Positive Energy. With the feeling of a valve turned loose, she opened the proverbial floodgates to the Quasi-elemental Plane, sending half of her mana into that black abyss. A moment of silence hung in the air, then a torrent of tenebrous mana poured forth, polluting the glyphs her Master had painstakingly etched. Outside, Surya, Henry, and company watched as sudden slivers of inky darkness burst from their ward's body, smothering the summoning circle with Negative Energy. "Shit!" Surya cried out, "Henry!" "Sufina!" Henry needed no compulsion to command his Familiar, who raised a dainty, sculpted hand, germinating branching vines that caught Gwen by the waist and shoulders, suffusing the girl with a viridescent glow of pure vitality. Visibly, her body hungrily consumed Sufina's life-force, marring the Dryad's flawless skin with wrinkles. "Henry!" Sufina retorted, her tone worrying and peevish. "Are you sure about this?" "Keep her fed, whatever it takes," Surya commanded Sufina. "Use the life-force from the Grot." Sufina expanded into her adult form, from where she stood in the water of the infinity fountain, lilies and sedge rapidly sprouted. A pinpoint sphere engendered in the Summoning Circle. A small obsidian tendril wiggled from it, a hole that seemed to exist in no space, slithering forth to form an ebony serpent a meter in length, its girth thick as an arm. "What the hell is that?" Surya asked as Sufina blasted Gwen with another jolt of vital energy. "No idea... but it looks like trouble." Henry pulled out his staff, a length of Heartwood shaped from Sufina's Spirit Tree. "The Void is a place of infinite hunger and nothingness." "Nothingness?" Surya demanded, doubtful of the Tower's officious knowledge of the Plane. "I think we just proved that something exists there, after all." His question was answered by the snake lashing out towards Gwen, stopping when it bodyslammed the barrier, sending silver-white sparks of mana flying in all directions. "It's mindlessly hostile." Henry sighed disappointedly. "Maybe it's best to terminate. A creature has to be sentient to be partnered, and that thing looks like a solid mass of pure, life-draining malice." "Bah!" Surya spat, producing a wand that would activate the Banish function of his Warding Circle. With a clink, the metal extended to become a full-sized sceptre, its business end adorned with a model cage housing an egg-sized Creature Core. "Halt!" It was Sufina who interceded. "The serpent is sentient... I can feel... hunger, anger, rage... perhaps give Gwen a chance." The old men regarded each other. As an elemental being of the upper tier, Sufina could communicate with lesser elemental creatures. If the serpent can indeed 'feel', then perhaps it was worth keeping. "Whatever it is, it's too dangerous." Surya raised his staff to smite the damned thing. 'Crack!' A sudden blast of lightning cracked across the Summoning Circle's interior. The duo watched in amazement as a solid beam of Elemental Lightning materialised into a second serpentine form. The obsidian snake turned towards its new companion and hissed, its maw opening disgustingly and revealing a barbed tongue. Heedless of its warning, four short limbs sprouted from the second Familiar, its body elongating and twisting until the distinct form of a mammalian snout formed and a short tail could be seen. "What now... " Surya hefted her wand. "That creature... I think I recognise it," Henry mouthed. "What is it?" If that dark serpent creature was some unnamable beast of the Void, what could Gwen possibly have summoned to suppress it? Was it a celestial being? Elemental lighting brought to life? Perhaps a pseudodragon? The lightning retracted into the thing's body, forming into strands of buzzing, electric fur. "My God... it's-" Henry squinted to see. "What is it?!" Surya was beside himself. "Out with it, old man!" "I think... it's... a badger.” Gwen's Master was wrong, for her creature was less so a badger and more so a mongoose. When the Void matter had manifested something grotesque and terrible, Gwen channelled the rest of her mana into her Lightning summon, calling forth a serpent's natural enemy. Unlike Henry and Surya, who could only see the snake as a dark mass of malice, Gwen had a front and centre close up of its wretched state. The thing was less a snake and more of a slimy, slithering leech. Under its smooth carapace, its head was like that of a faceless lamprey, possessing only a mouth. In Gwen's opinion, disgusting and revolting were words too weak to do her revulsion justice. Thus in her mind, in that moment of abject terror, she envisioned a vivid conjuration of a video on Youtube where a Mongoose had skilfully taken down a King Cobra. Surya and Henry watched with interest as a blur of white fur encircled the dark serpent. The snake appeared far more dangerous, but every time it tried to attack, the mongoose would evade before nipping away a chunk of its dark mana. "What's happening now?" Surya demanded of his old commander. "A white badger is duelling a black snake..." Henry replied matter-of-factly. “…In a summoning circle." "..." Surya said nothing. So much for the wisdom of the Ten. Within Gwen's Summoning Circle, the battle was titanic. As with an IMAX documentary, she witnessed every detail: the horrifying lamprey face, the barbed tongue, the throbbing flesh. The mongoose, in turn, fired off synaptically bolts of electricity that teased and irritated the deranged serpent, dashing to and fro, too quick for the snake-worm. Come on Sparky! Kick its ass! She commanded her mongoose. 'Ee ee!' The mongoose emitted a sharp trill, signalling its master. She implicitly understood that it was calling for her to supply more mana. "Alright... here it goes." Gwen squeezed out the last ounce of mana she had held in reserve, channelling it through her Conjuration Sigil. Instantly, the mongoose grew in size. The snake hissed and lunged, its maw going for the throat. Now empowered, Gwen's mongoose strafed the serpent as it passed, dashing it to the floor violently. A burst of purple-black ichor sprayed from a neck wound, causing it to twitch in agony. "Shaa! Shaa!" It screamed, and Gwen felt it's trepidation and panic. It too demanded mana from her. With a haughty glee, Gwen refused, demand it submit instead to her mental contract. The thing quailed, becoming pliable. But now the ophidian's Master felt herself the victim of an immediate dilemma. Did she really want to form a contract with this thing? This alien abomination? Is it okay to say no? In what world could a xenomorph-cum-Lovecraftian horror be a companion? What kind of twisted Path would she embark upon if her chosen companion was the darling spawn of Cthulhu? Another part of Gwen, a pragmatic part of her, informed her that this was the creature that showed up when she had injected her void mana into the circle. Something in the universe had compelled this thing to come to her, who was she to deny it? Furthermore, the creature belonged to her. It was her responsibility. Moreover, it wasn't as though she had to fight the abyssal-horror, that was her opponent's problem. Gwen sent forth her consciousness again, touching the weakened alien mind and feeling it caress her own. Beast! Obey me! Are you willing to become my Familiar? Gwen whipped the worm with her will, lashing it with command and compulsion, just as her Master instructed. "Shaaa... Shaa. Hsss..." The serpent responded compliantly, bleeding ichor all over the glyphs upon the floor. In the next moment, its consciousness meld into her Astral Body, generating a pocket dimension where summoned creatures resided and establishing an empathic link. With the worm-thing gone, Gwen now faced the triumphant mongoose. Gwen cooed at the magnificent creature, coaxing its cooperation. "Ee! Eeee!" it replied. Gwen again felt a melding within her Astral Body, engendering a second pocket dimension. "Heavens, she's succeeded in taking the snake." Henry breathed out. "I am surprised it chose submission. Sufina was right, it was sentient after all." In the next moment, the mongoose likewise dissipated into motes of lightning. "How curious," Henry observed. "Looks like her elements are oppositional rather than cooperative. That was two completely distinct Familiars. She's going to have her hands full trying to wrangle them. Maybe one will counter the other?" The Summoning Circle glowed for a moment more, then spluttered and died. With all of its magic spent, the priceless ingredients turned to dust. The two old men waited for Gwen to gather her wits. "I've done it, Master!" Gwen returned, skipping forward proudly. "I have tamed both the Void and the Lightning beast!" At the edge, her knees gave out. With a yelp, she tumbled from the platform. A dozen helpful tendrils from Sufina caught Gwen before she struck the floor. "Congratulations, Gwen." Henry moved to remove his Apprentice from Sufina's makeshift hammock. She had met all of his expectations and more. Surya motioned to Melissa, who materialised a mid-tier mana potion. "Drink this," her Opa commanded. Gwen thanked him before swigging down the expensive restorative, feeling energised as the potion restored her mana reserves. "Take it slow, let it infuse you," Henry advised, then smiled encouragingly. "We eagerly anticipate a demonstration of your new Familiars." Gwen nodded. She sat cross-legged beside Sufina and mediated until she could distinctly feel that her Familiars stabilising. "Alright." She took a deep breath, turning to her fatherly mentors. "For my next act..."

Gwen felt no fear nor hesitation as she completed the Conjuration sigil, inducing the lightning-charged mana to materialise a snow-white marten; its body sleek and elegant, its fur fluffy with static. "Eee! Ee!" It trilled like a songbird, then ran around her ankles before leaping onto her shoulder, where it perched adorably, its whiskers sparking with electricity. "An aesthetic docile-form," Henry remarked approvingly. “A lightning-weasel, from the looks of it. I assume the mongoose is its combat-form." “Sufina has a combat-form?” “Oh yes.” Henry nodded sagely. “She's terrifying when she’s mad.” “Yes, yes, a pretty pet is all well and good, but is it strong?" Gwen's Opa preoccupied himself with finding out if he got his money's worth from the Summoning Circle, he pointed to the white marten on Gwen’s shoulders. "Let's see it do some damage." Henry glanced at Sufina, who casually sprouted two dozen roving bushes in the distance, meandering aimlessly. Gwen sent a mental command to her marten, envigoring it with a dose of lightning mana. Her creature leapt from her shoulder, landing dextrously, transforming as it did so. Its fur became jagged shards of electrified needles, its girth expanding until it attained the size of a meter-long mongoose. It leapt, transforming into a streak of blue and purple, instantly striking three targets with electric-charged bite-attacks. It's like a taser, Gwen marvelled. A mongoose shaped taser. The two old men nodded in satisfaction. The mongoose' speed was formidable. However, like many attacks that favoured speed, its power left something to be desired. Gwen tapped into her empathic-link with the creature, asking if it had any range attacks. Heeding her command, her mongoose crouched on all fours, raising its back. With a shuddering of fur, it blasted off hundreds of tiny, lightning-charged darts, each a sliver too small for the eye to discern. 'Pak! Pak! Pak!' A flailing tree-dummy spontaneously transformed into a cactus. 'Ee!' An impulsive demand for spellcasting engendered in Gwen's mind. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen invoked her latest Evocation staple, sending out a line of blue-white lightning from the tip of her fingers. "Good girl!" Surya clapped. "Ya got to tier three!" Lightning Bolt was one of the most iconic signature spells of Evokers beside the ubiquitous Fireball, perfected by generations of Mages that came before her. At Alesia's behest, she had spent weeks practising the incantation and invocation, training with it until she was out of mana, then recovering with HDMs. 'Crack!' To Gwen’s surprise, her mongoose's white bristles acted as a lightning rod much in the same way as her Guiding Bolt. Her cobalt bolt arced through the air, a blast of pure plasma, striking the cactus-shrub with unerring accuracy. The electrical blast then radiated through the bristles, creating small secondary electrical explosions between the pins. The tree glowed pure white for a split-second, then exploded in every direction. "Eee! Ee!" The creature returned to its marten form, having spent its allotment of mana. To remain persistently in combat form would require a constant channel, to which Gwen was too inexperienced to maintain. Returning to her, it nudged Gwen's storage ring. She produced for it a small mana crystal, which it crushed like a dog biscuit. "A brilliant Conjuration, Gwen." Surya seemed well-pleased with his investment. “Synergy attacks with Familiars are typically attained much later. Your Elemental Affinity may be greater now than your last assessment. What is it now?” “I won’t be updating my Student Card until the Inter-High Tournament, Opa. Master says to keep my talents under wraps.” “Do you have access to a Chamber Gwen?” Surya inquired eagerly. “She can use the Observatory at the Tower,” Henry added. “Though I would advise discretion, many of those who work at the Tower has connections to the private schools." They conversed until the creature had finished its meal. Gwen tried to recall her marten, but it instead ran to Surya and Henry, stood upon its two hind legs, then made a begging motion with its forepaws. The old men laughed, then each materialised an HDM for her Familiar. To Gwen's dismay and envy, the creature’s eyes glinted with mischievous delight, then stowed the crystals inside its mouth pouch. "What are you going to name it?" According to her Master, summoned creatures didn't have True Names until they reached higher tiers of sentience, until then, nicknames were equally, important, for they bound the Familiar to the Conjurer. For Gwen, the moment she had seen her two creatures, she knew their names. “Ariel,” She declared. “A Spirit of The Tempest.” Though her instructors didn't know the inference, they found the name to be pleasing, its sound melodious to the ear. “Eee! Ee!” Ariel seemed to like its name as well. It returned to her with its mouth full of crushed crystals, dropping motes of mana dust on her shirt as it chewed. Gwen waited until it was done before invoking the banishment command, returning Ariel to its pocket dimension. “Well done.” The gathering readied themselves for the next Familiar. “How’s your vitality?” Henry demanded. They had to suffuse Gwen with Sufina’s life-force during the ritual. For Gwen, summoning her Void Familiar meant that she would be suffusing her mana conduits with the Negatively charged Void matter. “I feel fine, Master.” Gwen took a deep breath, vaguely aware that Sufina had protected her. “Shall I proceed?” “Be careful,” Surya intoned worriedly. Gwen called out to her serpent. "Shaaa!" Came a reply in her mind. It refused to move from its pocket dimension. “Caliban! Heel!” She called out affirmatively, her imperial tone compelling obedience from the netherworld ophidian. It came. The thing materialised like a grotesque drop of black ink. It fell onto the spent summoning circle, a slithering mass of darkness, wetly coalescing until it took on its physical body. To Gwen and the other’s astonishment, its appearance was aesthetic. The ophidian worm's sinuous body had a dark, ebony sheen, as though it sculpted from glossy obsidian. Its carapace-dermis absorbed the light of day, changing hue as it slithered. The thing's faceless head wasn't that terrifying maw Gwen had seen previously, but an elegant configuration akin to a Prince Rupert's drop. Within its torso, inky dashes of Void matter moved in abstract filigrees. “My word, what a creature.” Henry raised a bushy brow, entirely surprised by the difference between expectation and reality. “To think even something from the Void can be beguiling and arresting! How wondrous the unknown can be!” “Indeed!” Surya mused, his artist's eye twinkling. There was something strangely sensual and erotic about the phallic creature. Didn't they say that Familiars reflected their Master's psyches? He regarded his granddaughter, then again at the worm-thing, wondering why Gwen had chosen this thing out of all the unknown Void-things that could have manifested. “Shall we see what it can do?” Henry asked. “Gwen, be very careful of its life-drain. Sufina, look after Gwen.” Gwen nodded. She mentally commanded the serpent to strike one of the moving shrubs. Below, Caliban turned toward the bush with complete disinterest. "Caliban! Attack!" This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. She allowed a nip of Void-tinged mana to permeate her conduits. "!" Dizzying fatigue beset her body, filling her veins with ice. Not far from Caliban, Henry and Surya were still admiring its glossy form when without warning, Caliban's carapace split to reveal a pulsating head of purple flesh. The creature opened its mouth, a lamprey's sucker lined with hooked teeth, then reared up to its full height. “Jesus FUCK!” Surya cried out, almost tripping over himself in an attempt to back away. “By the Magi!” Henry likewise fought back a mouthful of bitter revulsion. Even at half the height of a grown man, Caliban was a terrifying sight to behold. "Shaa! Shaa!" Its faceless mien searched this way and that, locking onto the old men before moving intelligibly toward the shrubs. A drop of grey goo drooled from its puckering mouth. “Bloody oath, Gwen, I just lost ten years of my life.” Surya clutched his chest with one hand. Caliban! Melee! Gwen willed Caliban to attack. It slithered with surprising speed towards the shrubs, leaping off the platform and moving onto the grass. Where her worm ventured, life perished, leaving Surya's lawn trails of meandering grey-grass. Upon reaching its first target, Caliban coiled its body, then struck like a spring. Without so much as a plop, it tore clean through the wooden frame of the animated shrub, bursting through to the other side. Range strike! Gwen fought its grudging compliance. To Henry's and Surya’s abject horror, Caliban opened its lamprey’s mouth and shot forth a flesh-barb, a harpoon-tongue that leapt from its maw to pierce a shrub. Then, to their growing horror, it pulled the non-sentient puppet, thrashing and twitching, towards itself. Finally, as though insufficiently traumatising, its head distended, the carapace opening until it became gigantic and bulbous. The lamprey's mouth then widened, sucking the shrub into its maw. When the last branch disappeared, Gwen sensed a mote of vitality returning to her body, restoring a little of what she had spent. "Cali-" Before Gwen could overcome her fascinated repugnance, her darkling spawn of Shub-Niggurath returned to her. Caliban had seen Ariel’s actions and thought it flattering to likewise rub up between her legs, making infinity circuits around her ankles. Henry and Surya watched with bile-in-mouth as Gwen fed it a crystal. Below, the serpent's tentacle tongue snagging her fingers before swallowing crystal whole. It then turned to beg as Ariel had done, forcing both Henry and her Opa to discard a handful of shards. Return! Gwen demanded. After collecting its prize, her ophidian worm slinked into the darkness of its pocket dimension to rest. “Well, that was something.” Surya swallowed nervously. “That’s one word for it.” Henry took a deep breath. “Gwen, I would use Caliban sparingly if possible.” “He does seem a little excessive," Gwen agreed. Curiously, the goo from Caliban killed the grass but did not damage herself or her shoes. “That thing’s a he?” Henry shuddered. “How can you tell?” “Well… it is shaped rather like, you know…” Gwen made a shape with her hand. “Right.” Henry coughed gently. "Familiars are sexless, by the way, at least until you acquire a Spirit.” "A Spirit? Master?" If Henry meant a Spirit like Alesia's Crimson Caracal, that prospect would likely be in a very distant future. “You know, I feel inspired.” Surya looked around and saw his sculpture workshop in the distance. “That thing was brutal and disgusting, but you had to admit, there was a kind of alien sensuality.” Gwen and Henry looked at Surya blankly. “I need to go. You two make yourself comfortable. Melissa! Tess! Work time!” Surya stormed off. Tess and Mel apologised profusely. Gwen's Master waved his hand disinterestedly to show that he was not offended. “So, now that we have that sorted.” Henry turned to his junior Apprentice and appraised the girl. The schedule that he and Surya had set was militant, as much a test of her physical prowess as it was her will. It was designed to raise her foundational abilities for the Inter-high competition rapidly. There, Gwen would have to complete against prodigies from families reared on the finest of mana-rich cuisine, taught by the best tutors and instructors. But they had made good progress. Ariel was an excellent beastie, a reliable companion with good growth potential: loyal, obedient and possessed a synergising ability. That Caliban-beast, however, was a subject of future research. For now, it was best if Gwen avoided using it altogether. Void and Dust were two of the most dangerous Sanctioned Magic a Mage of the Tower could channel. Henry of all people knew its self-destructive power. Even a slip of the mind could lead Gwen down a path of tragedy and wretchedness. Simply put, the girl was too weak and too inexperienced to wield Void Magic. He needed to ease her into it, ideally, have her exercise its powers under supervision. In time, her control over Conjuration and her Familiars will grow, mitigating the risks of self-harm. Unlike last time, Henry now knew the wisdom of patience. Furthermore, there was also the matter of exposing Gwen to the other members of the Ten. Though exposure seemed unavoidable if Gwen wanted to have a career of any kind, she would be a surefire hit with the military bigwigs, desperate for an Ace to outfit their Aerial Assault Wings. Alesia had been a great Ace, but her personality was unsuited for military discipline. He briefly recalled the heydays of the Coral Sea War, when Void Magic had so frightened the Demi-human tribes that they offered sacrificial tributes to sue for peace. The militant Faction drooled just thinking about the possibility of bringing back the 'good old days'. But their dominion had come at a personal cost to Henry. Would Gwen be able to maintain her sanity if she was commanded to wipe out a village filled with defenceless xeno-women and children? “Master?” Gwen’s voice interrupted the ruminating Magister. “Sorry, I was tidying up some thoughts,” Henry spoke softly, his glazed eyes once again lucid. “So, as I was saying, you should probably use Caliban sparingly. I fear he would draw unwarranted attention, perhaps even the attention of forces beyond our ken.” “Beyond even the Tower’s knowledge?” “Oh yes,” Henry replied. “It is rare, but not impossible for Demi-humans to be amongst the endless multitude of humanity. What I fear are secret cabals, people like Edgar, Mages who walk a darker path than we, who would take great interest in a girl like you.” Gwen shivered. "Of course, Gunther, Alesia and I will protect you. Still, discretion is advised." “Shall I hide Caliban then?” Gwen questioned her Master, hiding her disappointment. She had been looking forward to putting her Familiars to use, even Caliban. “Use your discretion,” Henry replied. “If they know, they know. I'll keep you safe. Talent attracts attention. There will always be those who are envious of talent, worship it, or seek to despoil other's gifts for selfish ends, but our Credo will always be those words you so admirably uttered.” “Noblesse Oblige.” “Yes.” Henry gave a small cough. Behind her Master, Sufina stirred. “You have another three months, cough, and that should be plenty of time to master the use of these two. I would think, cough, that you will be ready to work with Paul... cough…” “We had best get going, Henry,” Sufina grumbled as her Master's coughing persisted. The Dryad produced a small pool of mead in her hand and allowed Henry to drink directly. Gwen aided by massaging her Master’s back as his chesty convulsion eased. “Yes, best we get back to the grot,” Henry agreed. “Gwen, all the best to you, listen to your Grandfather, don’t be afraid to ask your brother and sister-in-craft for help. That’s what they are there for.” “Thank you, Master.” Gwen bowed. There was a flash of Conjuration mana, then they were gone - Teleportation, without the need for Circle or beacons. A tier 7 spell. Gone looked around at the infinity pool, somewhat surprised to find that she was utterly alone. There were still dozen-odd animated shrubs that were wandering around the place, reminding her of a hypothesis that needed affirming. She summoned Caliban again, her Familiar full of enthusiasm that it had been invoked twice instead of that upstart mongoose. Gwen portioned to it another mass of Void tinged mana, fighting back the sick in her chest. She watched as Caliban transform into that Lovecraftian nightmare, then gave it a mental command to ravaged the shrubs. With each animated bush that it destroyed, she could feel a bit of vitality returning to her, restoring a little of what she had spent. Before long, Caliban's cargo of Void mana depleted, returning to its aesthetic form with an air of satisfaction. Interesting, Gwen smiled weakly to herself. If Caliban could somehow sustain her like this, then it was possible to have prolonged periods of usage. She sent for a mental command for Caliban to return, and the happy abomination returned to her, coiling up her waist and rubbing up against her cheek. In its docile form, the carapace was smooth and cool, like a serpent sculpted entirely from precious stone polished to perfection. Gwen tried to feed it another crystal, but the overexcited thing smeared grey goo all over her chin. Suddenly nauseous, she banished it into the pocket dimension. “I guess I better head back…” She said to no one in particular. Her subsequent three months of schedules were about to begin, and her next milestone was working odd-jobs for this 'Mac', Surya and Henry’s ‘war buddy’. Like a child with a new toy, she couldn't wait to exercise her powers as both an Evoker and a Conjurer. * * * Back in the Grot, Henry lay in bed, cradled by his Familiar. “Henry… my saplings are all gone,” Sufina reported to her master. Henry sighed sadly. “She's a curious one.” He shook his head. “I wonder if she'll be like her.” “She won't. I like Gwen,” Sufina sulked cattily. “If you recall, I never liked that witch, not from the first day we met.” “I suppose,” Henry remarked sternly. “But Gwen's Path is her own: one that can only be walked by oneself. If she possesses the means to overcome the fate of her kind, then she will do so without our interference. It's is not a problem of power or magic Sufina, this is…” “The Human Condition,” Sufina finished for him. “So you keep saying.” Henry unleashed another chain of hacking coughs. Sufina produced another dose of the Golden Mead - the distilled liquid of her life-force, drawn from the Wild Land grot of her heart tree, then fed it to her Master. "Master, are you-" “I am fine, a little over exerted by that Summon Circle.” Henry coughed. "It's been a while." “You must be careful.” “Still, Gwen worries me. My mind is not still.” “Master?” “I fear they will take her, Sufina. The Void talent is too precious. To them, she could be a priceless wellspring.” “We'll protect her." “What a dilemma.” Henry laughed bitterly. “Give her too much power, and she becomes a monster. Shelter her too much, and she becomes the tool of another. How hard it is to be free! Hiding her talent was wrong, Sufina, we didn’t know- how could we have known?" Henry was almost in a trance now, half his consciousness taken by the mead, the other half treading the dark waters of some distant memory. “It’s not the same…” Sufina stroked Henry’s hair. "Gwen is strong." “Yes… not the same, not the same…” Henry’s speech slurred. “We won’t lose her, not like before… not like before- Oh, poor Lizzy! How we failed her!” “Shu… sleep now," Sufina winced as the name broke Henry's lips. Entering her Master's unprotected mind, she drugged him to sleep, tapping into her Dryad's powers. "Henry… you need rest.” As agony on Henry’s face slowly faded, Sufina laid her head upon his chest and listened to her Master's rhythmic breathing. As a Sprite, she knew not the meaning of sleep, and so she could sit beside Henry and warded his dreams against the past, thinking sweetly of Gwen; thinking bitterly of that woman who had hurt her master long ago.

When Gwen moved into her first apartment, the loneliness of coming home to an empty abode blindsided her. Previously, she had always shared dorms and rooms with girlfriends, and for short stints, poorly chosen boyfriends. So she adopted two cats from the RSPCA. Ariel and Caliban, just like from The Tempest, making her cranky old Prospero, the Conjurer supreme of Shakespeare's play. Just as she was ready to embark on a life of being a forever-single cat mama, her very responsible vet told her that she shouldn't take the kittens home for another month - not until they were weaned and desexed. It was the longest wait of her life. For the next two months, Gwen relived that special hell, at the brink of her willpower as her Familiar tickled the inside of her brain, demanding to be let loose into the Material Plane, while she did her best to hide them from the world. It was only on the weekends, in the privacy of Surya's estate that she could free her inhibitions, allowing her marten and ophidian free reign. With the help of an exceptionally nutritious diet, she was tempering her body to sustain her Void Familiar. Even so, in combat, she could only keep Caliban empowered for two odd minutes before her vitality began to wane. Ariel, on the other hand, fed off her plentiful lightning and could be maintained for almost an hour. As such, Gwen figured that Caliban would only be truly effective in an area with a significant amount of consumable biomass, such as that of a monster's den. Speaking to her Master, she hypothesised that Caliban's strength lied in its miniscule mana cost and high vitality-drain, which had to be offset by an external source of vitality. "It's an extraordinary creature, I agree," her Master had remarked. "But, as with Evocation, avoid using the Void until you grow stronger. Take measured steps, don't run." She promised to remain vigilant. Episodic interruptions aside, the grind continued. Each morning, Gwen jogged with Debora, herself becoming a notable Transmuter. Time had seemed to restore Debora to a sunny disposition, as well as reawakening her competitive streak. During one of their sessions, she once again implored Gwen to include her on the team, to which Gwen agreed to give her priority as their first choice. Lessons with Alesia also continued, fortifying a number of her tier two and three spells. Concurrently, Gunther and her Master taught Gwen new Conjuration spells in addition to Evocation staples. Lightning Blade was a manifestation which allowed her to conjure a persistent blade of energy, it was suitable for close combat and possessed a paralytic effect. Gwen dubbed it 'The Taser'. Warding Bolt allowed her to create a floating energy sphere that persisted for several minutes, striking three times at any targets that came close. A particular quality of Lightning, Gwen noted, was that even defensive spells were overtly offensive, subscribing to the philosophy that the best defence was offence. When Gwen requested non-lethal spells, Master Henry had sent over two scrolls for debilitating manifests. Blinding bolt, which caused optic damage, and Thunderclap, which caused the enemy to be deafened and disorientated. Upon receiving the spells, Gwen saw no reason why they should be separate in the first place. After all, stun grenades existed in her old world. She made the idea known to Alesia, and the two worked to create an original spell that, though lacking damage, could induce blind, deafen, and disorientation simultaneously. Additionally, thanks to her Conjuration and Evocation, she could cast both the spell in a persistent, globular variation or directly as an explosion. Not one for originality, Gwen named it 'Flashbang'. The most interesting of her new spells was a persistent target spell in the form of a cloud called Call Lightning that randomly discharged Lightning Bolts at irregular intervals. Gwen gushed when she realised it worked wonders with Guiding Bolt and Ariel’s static needles. Thursday nights were spent with Gunther. During one such training session, she discovered that though Gunther's Radiant Shield was a molecule-thin film of light, they somehow blocked all her best spells. When queried, he smirked and told her to work on basic Abjuration, scoffing at Gwen's dismay when she parroted that only Abjurists could engender 'real' Shields. "Never underestimate the power of innovation and hard work," he wisely intoned. He then proudly introduced Gwen to the concept of Single Spell Mastery. “There are many ways in which a Mage builds on their Spell List and the most arduous of which is absolute mastery over a single low-tier invocation." “How would that help?” Gwen asked quizzically. “That seems counterproductive. Why not train for higher tiers?” “Not all Mages can reach higher tiers in multiple schools like you and I.” Gunther shook his head at her naivety. “A Mage's power is bottlenecked by talent, by affinity, and by access to resources. For example Gwen, how many crystals did you use in the last half a year?” Gwen did the math. "About... fourteen hundred LDM crystals and .... one hundred HDM crystals?" "Yes - and that's excluding your tuition fees, your special diet, the magic items that were used to train you, the ensorceled training grounds. You've spent close to a five hundred HDMs just at school, Gwen. How much did you say your father made?" "... two thousand a year, give or take." "You see my point?" "I see your point, Gunther," Gwen mumbled guiltily. "This is why mundane Mages may only focus on low-tier spells. However, they can become so proficient in the casting of say, the basic Magic Missile, that from simplicity comes spectacle. Some magic can be so ingrained within a Mage's mind that they may invoke it in a fraction of the time, it may be more potent, it could cost far less mana, all independent of the Mage's initial School of Magic. A sterling example would be 'Flight', a staple necessity for all Combat Mages." Gwen nodded demurely. "Personally, my Shield spell is the result of two-decades of training. For Quasi-Elementalists like us, poor defence is a huge weakness. But...” Gunther asked Gwen to come closer, when she was almost touching his chest, he summoned a semi-dome Shield which enveloped both of them. “Feel it," he suggested. "Tell me what you think." For a mischievous moment, Gwen pondered the inappropriateness of giving Gunther's washboard abdominals a 'cop'. Thankfully, decades of sexual harassment training dissuaded Gwen from her hormonal impulse. Gingerly, she reached out and felt Gunther's Shield barrier, to her surprise, it had the texture of cornstarch. “These are... motes of pure mana!” She exclaimed. “You're using a double layered shield with pure mana wedged in-between?" “Give it a punch.” Gunther grinned. Gwen punched the barrier and felt the plasticity instantly grow rigid. A non-Newtonian fluid? She was in shock. Could physics apply to mana? It seemed to her that magic was 'magical' precise because the conjured elements appeared to override earthly laws of physics. How else could she summon electricity without a dynamo, or Yue conjured fire without friction or a source for fuel? “My 'Shield' is a Signature Spell of mine,” Gunther informed her conspiratorially, amused by her awe. But Gwen was awed for the wrong reasons. She understood that where a normal Mage had a relatively equal volume of mana dispersed within a single Shield, Gunther had motes of pure mana manifested as fine particles within a parallel membrane. When an external force struck the voluminous ‘fluid’, it compressed the space between the motes, hardening the Shield while consuming the attack's kinetic and elemental energy. “Incredible…” Gwen discerned that perhaps, she was similarly capable of using this method. Though it was beyond her ken to create a double walled Shield, the theory was sound. “I bet… that I can penetrate your Shield.” she turned to Gunther mischievously. “What do I get if I succeed?” “Ho? Bluster and arrogance, how Alesia of you!” Gunther lifted one corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin. "Name your price." "If I can penetrate..." Gwen coughed. "... your Shield, you have to teach it to me." “I've never sold the spell's secret, not even to the Tower, for CCs, HDMs or favours.” Gunther grinned. "But you've piqued my curiosity, come on." She took a stance. "Lightning Blade!" Resembling a katara, a hovering mass of cobalt lightning crackled above her wrist. “Promise not to move?” “You have my word.” 'SPAK!' Gwen slashed the katara over Gunther's Shield, watching the mana congeal, the white-line healing in a matter of seconds. Gunther smirked. “Not going to move at all?” “Not at all.” "No backsies." For her second attempt, Gwen slowly pushed the dagger against the surface of the Shield, watching the surface sizzle. Slowly the hardened particles of compressed mana dispersed, becoming viscose as Gwen pushed ever so gently inwards. Just the tip, she bit back an immature smile as her blade penetrated her brother-in-craft's pride. Gunther baulked as the blade slid slowly through his Shield, millimetre by millimetre, surely and steadily. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. “Impossible!” His steady voice rose an octave. “How did you know? Did Master tell you?” Mages were inherently a secretive bunch. It was especially bad form for a Master to tell one apprentice the secret of another. “Oh, it's not hard to figure out…” Gwen dispersed her conjured blade. Gunther regarded Gwen with renewed respect. “You win.” He placed both hands against his hip. "I'll teach it to you. Got time to visit the Cog Chamber? Copying my Astral projection will drastically reduce the time it takes to learn Secondary Spells." Besides Gwen, Yue and Elvia had each reached their milestones. Yue managed to attain whatever conditions Alesia had set, informing them one night, ecstatic and happy, that Alesia had made her an offer of Apprenticeship. All that was left was for Yue to finish high school. “I wonder what that means for my Military Service?” Yue pondered aloud. “Do I serve with Alesia, does she have a Unit? Maybe it's a special unit? Do you think I'll be in the Special Air Service?” Yue’s fantasies aside, Gwen had no idea either. She would have to ask her sister-in-craft. On the other hand, was she in the same boat as Yue? Was she was still subject to conscription. Without incident, Gwen knew she would be starting her service November next year. If she chose, she could muster for physicals in January and join the Reserves by July, as Jun and Henley had done. Comparatively, Elvia would be absent due to classes for Advanced Restoration, Combat Triage, and Internal Medicine. Where Gwen and Yue’s regular instructions involved extensive knowledge of Magical Creatures and Spellcraft theory, Elvia’s were far more specialised. “We’ll be together again come next year!” Elvia promised when Gwen lamented the separation. “We have to team up for the final exam in June after all! I’ll be sure to have more buffs and blessings in my repertoire!” "Gwen, it's time for you to gain some practical experience," her Master informed her one morning. "Yes, Master." Gwen bowed her head. She wasn't sure if she looked forward or dreaded the prospect of employing her spells in the real world. Socking Sufina's puppets was one thing, tasering a real person? Electrocuting a guy with Lightning Bolt? Her only solace was the prevalence of healing magic that made most injuries survivable. Regardless, the day of promise was upon her. The academic year ended, and students left the school for extracurricular programs suited to their specialities. Elvia would be away with her uncle. Yue had training with Alesia and would be doing subjugation fieldwork down the coast. On their last jog together, Debora had told Gwen that her family had arranged her to work part-time with a famous Transmuter Magus. As for herself, she informed the others that she had part-time work, which was technically not a lie. First thing in the morning, her Opa called, informing her that all had been arranged and that Mark 'Mac' Chandler, proprietor of the Black Cat Agency, would be expecting her. “Dress in your Sunday best,” Surya advised her. “That's what Mark requested, anyway. He's a good bloke, and you can trust him. Otherwise, I'll personally punch his lights out." Oh yeah, Gwen recalled. Mark was another one of their 'old mates'. Out of curiosity, she asked her Opa if there was an old codger’s club where all his war buddies congregated, mayhap an RSL which they frequented. Surya's sobering response was that there wasn’t enough of them left. “Terrible time, that was.” Surya shook his head sadly. “You kids don't you how good you have it with your updated Spellcraft metrics. Back then, our spells were horse-piss, the enemy out-numbered us, and anti-magical beasts training was non-existent. Guerrilla warfare was a shit-show. The life expectancy for a flight of Mages landing in the North Queensland jungle was about fifteen minutes. If you survived that, then you had until nightfall.” "Jesus," Gwen mouthed. "Sorry." “You got 'Mac' to thank for me being here, he and Henry and..." Surya cleared his throat. "Mark saved our asses plenty of times with his array of Arcane Eye, Detect Invisibility, and Telepathic Bond. When you meet him, be polite, listen to what he says, and don't piss him off!” Feeling her Opa's worry, Gwen was keen on making a good impression. Feeling curious and speculative, she picked through her other wardrobe and produced a navy button-up one-piece dress that taped around her torso and ended above her knees. The weather warmed as summer came, so Gwen forwent the stockings and matched the dress with her Mary-Janes. For a formal touch, she carefully combed her hair until it fell neatly over her shoulders, then applied a light touch of gloss, liner and mascara. The result was a prim young lady who wouldn't look out of place during Melbourn Cup luncheon. With an address in hand, she made the journey to Surry Hills by public transport. Her destination was not too far from the transit station, where she walked the rest of the way, enjoying the brisk Sunday air. Her destination was an old sandstone building that looked ancient and archaic. It was a terrace, a converted working-class home now among some of the most expensive properties in Sydney. The building had a lovely red door set against intricate ironworks. The wrought signage showed a black cat. Gwen pressed the buzzer and was surprised to hear a husky, whiskey voice asking who she was. “I am Gwen.” she smiled at the glassy scrying crystal atop the door. “You were expecting me, I believe.” The door opened, and Gwen was momentarily stunned by the scent of heavy perfume assaulting her nostrils. A heavily made-up blonde woman stared her down, wearing audacious lingerie. Gwen blushed, catching a wayward nip. The woman, whom Gwen dubbed 'the Madam,' looked upon her with a critical eye. “Ain'tcha a little young for this line of work?” It took Gwen another agonising few seconds to realise her mistake. The red door, the barred windows, the perfume, the exposed nip. Damn those old codgers, where the hell did they send her? “May I inquire as to the address of this Black Cat Cafe?” Gwen forced a smile to her lips. It wasn't that she looked down on ladies of the night, it was that right now, it was noon. “I may have mistaken the address.” The woman grinned with too-wide and too-red lips, producing a card from her cleavage. 'Black Cat Bordello.' The card read. 'For your pleasure.' From within the corridor, Gwen could see other women in similar states of undress. “Right.” Gwen moved back stiffly. “I have the wrong address.” “You better hope so!” The madam laughed in that croaky voice of hers. “You working here would shut us down in a heartbeat!” Gwen turned to leave, but the Madam caught her arm. “You’re not entirely in the wrong place,” she chuckled. “The place you’re looking for is two doors down, look for the print ‘Black Cat’, not the animal.” “Thanks.” “You gonna be working for Mark?” The madam asked curiously. “Yes Ma’am,” Gwen said carefully. “Well then, we’ll be seeing each other.” “Thank you,” Gwen replied cooly, her friendly mien juxtaposing her scarlet face. Let's hope we don’t see each another again, Gwen thought to herself. At any rate, she had been the idiot. To think she had mistaken the picture for the address. Two doors down, Gwen found the right door, a white one this time, set into a sandstone facade. The frontage was a wild growth of neglected native shrubbery, within which may have been a set of tables and chairs some years ago. The paint was peeling a little from the door, and flakes of it fell when she knocked. Doesn't look used, Gwen puzzled her mind at the sight. Was Mark's operation on hiatus? “Come in, its open,” a distant voice called from the second floor. She turned the knob and felt the accumulated oxidisation groan. When the door finally opened, Gwen entered a private museum. Or at least, a place that had the look and feel of a museum. Hundreds of items small and large hung on the walls. The collection consisted of bits and pieces of magical beasts, feathers, claws, patches of skin, and what looked like a desiccated paw. Other collectables were anthropological, such as painted tribal masks, spearheads, the pommel of a sword. Glass cabinets lined the corridor, filled with trophies, scraps of documents, pieces of minerals, and what looked to be fragmented mana stones. “Up here!” a voice called out. Gwen noted amongst the chaotic details of the terrace's interior; there was a set of stairs which lead upwards. To her surprise, the claustrophobia prominent on the ground floor opened into an attic office that made from a spacious living room. The decor was strictly academic, reminding Gwen of an Oxford study. A skylight working in conjunction with twin bay windows lit the room with a gentle ambience, revealing an ancient table in the middle of the room, inundated by a scattered bric-a-brac of, pens, inks and bottles. In Gwen's measured eye, the impressive collection could only belong to Dr Indiana 'Mark' Jones. With a shuddering gasp, notebooks apart to reveal a gaunt-faced old gent with a frighteningly high domed skull. Mark 'Mac' Chandler wore gold-rimmed spectacles with an intellectual air, plagued by a receding hairline. His eyes, two dark obsidian orbs, appraised Gwen as she approached. "So you are Gwen Song,” he spoke with a voice that rose and fell like listing timber, clear and pronounced, each syllable bitten with absolute precision. "Welcome to the Black Cat." Gwen bowed, feeling that a man of this calibre and seniority would prefer austerity over frivolity. "You're probably wondering, 'what cafe?'" He smiled with thin, pursed lips. Gwen nodded. The only sign that this place may have been a cafe was the overgrown garden and those sets of cafe tables and chairs. "It is a long story; perhaps I will tell it once we're acquainted." "Of course, Sir." Gwen stood before Mark like a young trooper at attention. Her Mary-Janes were comfortable, but any shoes that came with a proportioned heel suffered the existential contrariety of style and comfort. It was time to turn on the old charm. "So, Henry tells me that you not only abide by his beloved Credo but understands it better than our Faction's veterans." "It was a moment of inspiration, nothing more." Gwen dropped the 'Sir' to see if that could ease the formality between them. When Marc's eyes caught the light, she noticed a pale white tinge. Was the man using Divination on her? "I see. Henry also tells me that you are the recipient of an incredibly rare and unusual talent. Not one, but two schools of magic, moreover, you're blessed by both Lightning and Void. Is that correct?" "That's correct." "Good, care to answer a few questions for me, Gwen?" "Of course." "What do you think of the lesser evil?" "The lesser evil?" "Indeed." Mark persisted in the unexpected tangent. "There lie two choices ahead of you in a moment of crisis. It is the eleventh hour. To defeat a powerful enemy, you must sacrifice a companion Mage. To fail is the greater evil, for behind you lie ten thousand Non-Magical civilians, many of which may yet awaken to become your peers. But only by sacrificing a dear friend, can others be saved. What is the right choice?" What a curious question. Gwen pondered. Was this a test? Was he testing to see if I was a classist? "Would you like the answer to what I ought to do, or what I would do, Sir?" Mark raised an eyebrow in surprise. "No hesitation, and two answers already?" He seemed pleased by her spontaneous response. "Go on." Gwen took a deep breath. "In a dilemma, one must consider the utility of one's actions. Would my companion Mage posses more utility than Ten Thousand NoMs? If the answer is yes, then I would save the Mage. If the answer is no, then his or her sacrifice is not in vain. If there are no definite means of measuring that utility, then the moment is beyond right or wrong. Either action is acceptable." Mark considered her answer. "How cold-blooded. How astute. And what of your second answer?" "May I speak frankly?" "Of course." Gwen thought of Yue and Elvia, then summoned up the courage to speak her heart. "To err… is to be human. In the eleventh hour, I do not believe I am capable of giving a shit about right and wrong. At that moment, I would gladly take on the burden of ten thousand dead to save my friend. I am not a Saint, Sir, and doubt I would ever be. All that I can ask for is to be understood and mayhap, forgiven." Mark gave an unexpected start, moving rigidly for a moment before he began to chuckle, his laughter resonating across the chamber. "You are certainly not one of Henry’s Paladins," Mark stood from the chair. Gwen noticed that he was the tallest man she had seen yet. The man was almost two metres, stick thin and elongated. He wore charcoal pants, brown oxfords and a dark vest against an ivory silk shirt. "Tell me, Gwen, do you truly believe in the Credo? Be honest with me." "I believe it, truly," Gwen brought a smiled to her face. "But not to the exclusion of all else." "A fair answer..." Mark appeared to consider her words. He then extended a hand. "I am beginning to like you, Gwen Song." "Thank you. You're rather interesting yourself. Mr Chandler." They shook, his fingers long and skeletal, so long as to swallow her hand. “I wonder what manner of a life you must have lived, to possess such wisdom at the age of sixteen,” he remarked quizzically. Gwen began to sweat. "Not that its any of my business. You're Henry's ward, and so you are mine also by proxy. Come, I have tasks for you." He walked over to a side-table and pulled out a chair. "This will be your workstation. After a mission, you shall provide a written report. I believe you are proficient in this?" "More than proficient." "Good. Now take a seat, and I will explain." Gwen walked over to her new table. Obediently, she sat. There was already a file on her table; a dossier that looked like a classified document. A Quest! Gwen's heart pounded. What could it be? Monster subjugation? Recover item? Defending a particular location? Was she working with a group or solo? She had learned about all of this in one of her classes. A point of difference between this world and hers was that those with talent and tolerance for risk could always find gainful employment in resolving the one-thousand-and-one problems caused by the chaotic flux of energies. For her new home was a place where boogymen were real. Here, destruction stood over men’s shoulders day and night, where within the woods, monsters had marauded since time immemorial: for the Wildland was the devil's preserve; the Frontier, humanity's last stand. From within the Shield Barrier, the affirming flame of civilisation kept eradication and enslavement at bay. Therefore, for necessity, adventure and profit, men and women practised Spellcraft. And Gwen, only sixteen, was readying herself to join the ranks of those fine Mages seeking to make the world a better place. She opened the dossier and scanned through the brief. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Was this a joke? "An... escort quest?" She stared at Mark in horror. "I have to escort an Escort?!"

“Read through it carefully,” Mark advised. “How you wish to execute the mission is also the purpose of our exercise.” Gwen read through the document with a pace which surprised Mark, then read through it again as insurance. As she had noted prior, the Quest involved escorting a young woman from Blackheath to Surry Hills. “Why would a NoM Escort need a Mage to accompany her?” Gwen enquired, confused by the context even after reading the document twice. “Mmhmm…” Mark made a sound that that was both amusement and impatience. “Do you know where Blackheath is?” “I know it’s within city limits…” “And yet, you have never travelled beyond the inner west, correct?” "No..." the Diviner was correct. “Have you ever been to a suburb with NoMs, and I mean only NoMs?” Gwen pondered Mark's sardonic inquiry, realising that, no, she had indeed never trespassed a suburb exclusively inhabited by NoMs. “No…” “What kind of place do you imagine it to be?” Gwen had no answer for Mark's enquiry. A slum perhaps? She had seen the poverty-stricken ghettos of Sydney in her old world. There were hobos sleeping parks and the occasional guy smoking crack by alleyway. It wasn't that bad. She shook her head. “So there you have it, that is why you are chosen specifically for this simple task.” “Specifically?” Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Of course, tailor-made to your specifications." Mark Chandler chuckled, his demeanour choric and morose. "Henry specifically asked me to have you thrown into the lion’s den, although in all honesty, it's more of a rat den. But, you get the idea.” “Is the girl special in some way?” Gwen pursued the matter. She couldn't understand why anyone would spend upward of 200 HDMs to recover a young prostitute. Was there a conspiracy of some sort? Was she a femme fatale with dire information? “All life is special,” Mark replied evasively. “But I have spoken too much. You are meant to be speaking to the employer yourself, not to me. It's your Quest. If you don't wish to take it, go home to Henry. He'll find a spot from you in a Tower Kill-Team, I am sure.” He pointed to another envelope on her desk. “Your Licence.” Gwen popped the yellow envelope, and inside was an ID made from the same trans-fab material as her student card. **Gwen Song** Conjurer (2) Evocation (3) Lightning (3) Age:: 16 Achievements:: [N/A] Sponsor [Mark C. Surya H.] Agency:: Black Cat “That card allows you to perform minor magical feats within city limits: a provisional public practice of magic licence." There is also a pamphlet regarding the licence, as well as a contract. “Read through these carefully. If you are fine with it, then sign here, and here.” Gwen chewed through the heavy-handed legal documents. She glanced at Mark, feeling a detached suspicion engender in her chest. A licence for her to attack others? They weren't expecting her to kill or maim people, were they? “Did Alesia have a similar experience?” “Your sister-in-craft was sent strictly on away-missions far from human civilisation…” “Right." Gwen tempered her paranoia. If Mark knew about the Apprenticeship, it was self-evident that her Master trusted the Diviner. The whole thing was a test; if she went about zapping people and burning down their houses, its not a good look for her proclamation of Noblesse Oblige. She read through the documents again. “Says here, that I am allowed to use deadly force to defend myself within the city limits… am I to anticipate that someone will be using deadly force against me? In the city?” “That’s a clause the Tower has negotiated with the Frontier government. If indeed a NoM or a Rogue Mage threatened your life, you could hardly be expected to use your weakest spells." “Doesn't that seem a little excessive?” Gwen couldn't help but wondered what were the odds someone would threaten her life on this Quest. “It’s not a perfect system. See there, how I am your sponsor?” “Go on.” “I am personally held accountable for your choices. If your actions turn out to be criminal offences, it is my job to cooperate with the police to take you in.” Gwen held the card between her fingers; it felt more substantial than her student card, denser. “I take it the card also tracks my location?” “It also tracks significant magical activity,” Mark added. “But nothing detailed or substantial. We're only a Frontier city, after all. Sydney isn't London.” “I see.” Gwen was no longer surprised that her privacy had been fed to the dogs. Her Master was tracking her; the school was tracking her, God knows who else was tracking her. She signed the documents, watching the parchments disappear into Mark’s Ring. “Well, I better get to work then.” Gwen stood from the chair and eased down her dress. “I suppose the Madam is expecting me. Say, is there a story behind the fact that both the bordello and the cafe share the same name?” “There’s a long story behind that,” Mark replied distantly. “You see, I would tell it one day, but…” “…maybe when we're acquainted. I read you loud and clear. Can I consult you if I have any questions?” “Of course, I am your guide and mentor after all, here is my Message glyph. Do you know how to use Message yet?” “Not without a Device, no.” “I’ll teach you someday - if you make it through this one.” “Thanks, I’ll be going then.” Gwen knocked on the very same door she had left two hours ago. “Welcome back.” The same Madam opened the door with that big red smile of hers. “Dame Agnes Kitson.” “Gwen Song. I’ll be in your care,” Gwen replied. “Are you the client?” “I am paying, but no, I am not the client. Come on in,” The Madam ushered her in. “Your client is in my office. She’s worried sick from waiting. Mark said you'd be here earlier.” “Sorry, the red-tape took a while," Gwen apologised. "I am here now.” They went through the corridor. Inside, the decor was modelled after a decadent period of French history, classy, despite the nature of its business. Within, she drew curious glances from women in various states of undress. Gwen praised her timing, it was noon, and the place would not be taking customers until much later. Instead, the girls were having tea and coffee, watching Vid-Casts in the common room. At the back of the double-terrace, the duo reached what looked to be the Madam’s office, a converted master-bedder. Inside, the Madam introduced Gwen to a young woman named Sally Cantwell. “Sal, this is Gwen. Gwen, Sally Cantwell.” Her 'Client' possessed auburn hair that fell around her neck in ringlets, pale green eyes, and a face that was comely, sporting a girl-next-door vibe that Gwen knew to be particularly popular with certain kinds of men. By that same measure, though Gwen herself was uncommonly svelt, men often found her intimidating. Gwen offered a hand in greeting which the girl frightfully shook. To her chagrin, Sally made the supplicating gesture of holding her fingers with two hands. “Mistress Mage, I am so glad you could help us,” Sally supplicated. “Please, just Gwen.” The sycophantic manner of Sally's plea made her skin crawl. Sally looked to Agnes for guidance; the latter nodded once. “Miss Song, Gwen, thanks for coming, I am… hoo..." Agnes patted the poor girl with a jewel-encrusted hand. “The NoMs from areas beyond zone fifteen don’t get to speak to many Mages, much less Quasi-elementalist elites,” Agnes explained patiently. "They get spooked easily." What about you? Gwen wanted to ask. Agnes looked like she could do some damage. “Sal, calm yourself. Gwen is an affable young lady. You can speak to her as if you were speaking to me. She won't hurt you or try to take advantage of you.” The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. “A-alright.” Sally caught her breath. “Hello, I am Sally Cantwell…” “Nice to meet you, Sal.” Gwen appropriated the nickname, hoping it would put the girl at ease. “Tell me about your sister, Stacey.” Sally retold them what Gwen already gathered from the dossier. The sisters were from a poor District known as Blackheath, a place inhabited by working and underclass NoMs. The girls had a troublesome, abusive family which made them left school and home prematurely. They found work here and there, eventually finding their way to Agnes’ place. The Madam treated them well, gave them a place to stay, and things were dandy for about half a year. Unlike Sally, Stacey had a soft spot for their family back in Blackheath, returning with gifts of money and foodstuffs fortnightly. Just a week ago, Sally and her sister had the opportunity to be tested for affinity thanks to a curious client. To their surprise, Stacey registered as an Illusionist with an affinity for Water. Awakenings later in life were rare but seldom significant, so Agnes had thought nothing of it. But, when Stacey returned to Blackheath for the weekend, she evaporated. “She didn’t leave a Message or anything?” Gwen asked incredulously. Sally stared at Gwen blankly. Agnes coughed gently to upset the awkward silence. “NoMs can’t use Message spells, not even on Devices. They can’t produce mana…” Agnes said softly, instructing Gwen’s ignorance with a tone that was now less than pleased. “They could do it if they had access to mana crystals of course, but Sally had no training.” All of which costs crystals, Gwen recognised awkwardly, especially as LDM and HMD exchanges inflate in areas lacking Mages. “Do you know if Stacey is safe?” She pivoted back to the mission, knowing she appeared out of touch. Agnes tapped her ears, where there was a large ruby earring. Gwen noted that Sally also had one, though far less expensive looking and far subtler. “I had Mark run an Augury, so we know where she is. I had the device designed so that if the girls are hurt, really hurt, I would know. She’s still wearing the earring, which means she’s at least unharmed.” “So this would be a rescue and escort request then?” “I sure hope not.” Agnes made a face, her red lips pressing together tightly. “I don’t know why Stacey can’t come home by herself, but your job is to bring her home. How hard can it be to convince a dozen NoMs to leave a girl alone?” “Do you think they could be holding her because she awakened as a Mage?” Gwen asked Sally. Sally moved her head in a way that was neither a confirmation or a denial. “People back home... dislike like Mages.” She muttered incoherently, afraid to insult Gwen. “So maybe that's why? I… I don’t know. I hope they don’t hurt Stacey.” “She’s safe dear…” Agnes pattered Sally’s hand, tapping her ruby earring. “I know, trust me.” Man, this is messed up. Gwen organised the scenario a few times in her head, running the narrative through her mind. From the sounds of it, she needs to enter a slum where people are going to be hostile, keeps the NoMs at bay, find the girl, then return with her to the Black Cat Bordello. “Well, can ya do it?” Agnes demanded, growing a little annoyed at Gwen’s hesitation. “The clock is ticking.” “Yes, I’ll accept the Quest,” Gwen replied solemnly. It wasn’t as though she could refuse. The whole thing was a test to see if she could handle going out into the real world. The women shook to seal the deal, after which Agnes expelled Sally from the room. “Gwen, Can I speak to you for a moment?” Gwen nodded. “So, Gwen Song.” Agnes smiled broadly. “You’re all over the grapevine these days.” Gwen smiled innocently. “You’re Henry’s… protègè and Surya’s granddaughter, right?” Agnes grinned with mischief, an expression unbecoming on an older woman. “Oh, how are you acquainted with Magister Kilroy and Magus Huang, Ms... Missus Kitson?” Gwen ventured a question of her own. Was this woman a member of the Codger’s Club? “You can call me Kitty.” Agnes chuckled. “That’s what the boys call me.” “May I call you Agnes instead?” Gwen insisted. She'd rather not call Agnes by her pet name. “Just Agnes, then.” Agnes shrugged. “Gwen, I wanted to ask you something, then you can be off.” “Sure, go ahead.” Agnes stalked around Gwen in a circle. Casually, she brushed a hand past the hem of Gwen's skirt, sending the fabric riding up her pale legs, exposing their impressive length before falling back into position. Gwen yelped and looked at Agnes peevishly, questioning her uninvited harassment. If Agnes had been a man, she probably would have slapped, or zapped her. “So, not much experience with boys? Don't go out much?” "..." Gwen stared, forcing herself to remain polite. The hell's wrong with this woman? “Not that its any business of yours. But is that going to be a problem?” “Well...” Agnes cocked her head. She pointed to Gwen's dress. "Did Mark put you up to this?" “What do you mean?” Gwen furrowed her brows. What's wrong with her dress? It wasn’t as though she was going deep into Abu-Dhabi and had to wear a hijab. Blackheath was two hours away from the CBD! Even if she wore the minidress into the Wildlands, it would only be a minor inconvenience. Was there a dress code for working as a mercenary? Agnes caught Gwen's prickly annoyance with a scowl of her own. “It’s nothing. I was just worried about your shoes. They look mighty uncomfortable for walking long distances.” The matron chose to say nothing. In her mind, Mark could do no wrong, and Henry couldn't be wrong if he tried. The Quest was Henry's pupil's baptism of fire, designed to teach her that real life followed no instruction manuals. The girl would emerge from her trial stronger and wiser, as per Henry's purpose, or she would fail and return to the crucible. “Good luck." Agnes slapped Gwen on the bottom, pushed her from the room, then closed the door. What a rude woman. Gwen gave her smarting bum a gentle caress. From the woman's overly familiar tone, she certainly fitted into the Old Codger's Club. Once she exited the bordello, Gwen made for Redfern. Blackheath station was within walking distance of Cantwell's divined location. As for Blackheath itself, she knew the suburb only in name. It belonged to part of Sydney strange and unknown to her. But her greatest fear was becoming lost. Gwen knew her orienteering was sub-par. That was the problem with this world: no Google Maps, no Tripadvisor, no satellite imaging. For all the bluster of Mages moving mountains and boiling the seas, she couldn't so much as access a pin, pointing her in the right direction. All she possessed was a map provided by Mark Chandler and an address: Rogan Crescent, Blackheath - G6: D23. A physical map! Gwen grimaced. The last time she had touched one was in junior Geography. The process was so primitive that Gwen felt lost trying to find north. Nonetheless, she played out the scenario in her head. Ideally, she entered what she assumes to be a house: a single abode, a shack. She would demand from the occupants the whereabouts of Stacey Cantwell. She would recover the girl, ideally safe and sound, then take Stacey back to the Black Cat, at worst firing off a few spells to frighten the NoMs who may try to stop her, or at worst, unleash her Familiars. The reality was likely going to be different, of course. The mission was a test as well as a Quest, judging from Mark's evasiveness. With her mind still running analytics, Gwen took 7th Line toward Greater Western Sydney, one of the largest NoM regions within the Frontier city. Station after station, passengers boarded and alighted, mostly Mages and NoMs with useful professions. Once she was past the City-Circle, the number of individuals in their Sunday best changed to that of working-class outfits. After Strathfield, the Mages thinned out, and NoMs began to inundate the carriage. Past Granville, these men and women too alighted, leaving Gwen alone with a few unsavoury looking figures that now lounged here and there in the abandoned carriage. She pulled out her Message Device. A simple display read 15:44. The sun outside boiled, blasting the cracking pavements. During Sydney's summer, the sun sets after 8 PM. She was getting close, and her heart was beginning to race, matching the crashing undercarriage as it pounded the rails. The further she travelled, the more persistently the suburban-scape dissolved. The scenery outside had changed from that of suburban houses to cramped apartments, and now they were quickly growing denser, becoming more compact. 'Bing Bong~.' "Next stop, Seven Mills, the service will terminate in Blackheath. This service will terminate next stop." Gwen's sense of alarm grew in intensity as station after station; the sky contracted while the temporary buildings expanded. They were at Seven Mills now; only the landscape was nothing like the Sydney she had known. The station wasn't under shade cover, yet it felt as though she was underground. Arching her neck to see, she saw that an outbreak of haphazard construction had taken over the station, jutting here and there like architectural cancer. 'This train terminates next stop.' As the train began to move again, plunging deep into the slums, Gwen realised her terrible naivety. This Blackheath was not the Blackheath she had known. It was not dilapidated houses and working-class men languishingly in front of beat up Holden Commodores. It was not scantily clad women with too much make up getting catcalled by youths wearing popped collars. It wasn't even dodgy looking migrant men and bummed out Aborigines napping on the sidewalks with their dogs. It was a city unto itself: a municipality of NoMs, a township built without the help of Transmuters fabricators, without the conjured pylons or the reinforced magic of the Abjurers. It was a suburb carved out by hapless NoMs eking out a living at the edge of the Mages' city. Blackheath was made from scraps and leftovers. Above and below, it was bones piled atop of bones, each skeletal houses cannibalising the next for parts. The train was pulling up into station now, although Gwen hadn't moved from her seat. She was no longer sure of what to do. How was she going to find this address in a place like this? The damn suburb expanded as much horizontally as it did vertically! From the shelter of her carriage, she could see some NoMs milling about outside the platform. Some of them appeared to be vagabonds, old men living under stitched pieces of sheeting. Elsewhere, more threateningly, were wayward looking young men who assembled under an abandoned bus shelter, surrounded by a ring of acrid looking smoke. A woman stood under a doorway, backed against a wall by a large man drinking from a bottle. There was a scene of money been exchanged, then they both disappeared. Not far, a dog sauntered through the thoroughfare. One of the young men threw a bottle. It missed, the dog fled, and his friends roared with cankerous laughter. Still petrified like a Greco statue, Gwen considered her options. She looked outside at the walls that shielded the rails, and saw an articulate and aesthetically pleasing graffiti tag: 'Fuck Mage$,' it elegantly read. She was confident that the other one said something to the tune of: '$$ape B$tches' Apart of the script was covered up by a series of dollar signs. Sufficient to say, Gwen had no faith in hoping the line read 'Grape Britches.' Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit, her mind moaned. How far up shit-creek was she? Maybe she could do this tomorrow? She can come back wearing daggy sportswear. That fucking Agnes. Gwen realised. She knew, she fucking knew. 'These boots ain't made for walking,' my ass. She pondered her next course of action. Her train service had terminated. Either way, she had to leave the train to catch another train out of here. She had to find Stacey and do her duty. She had to do this. As the Goddess of Victory used to say: 'Fuck it, Just Do It.' Gwen took a few seconds to pump herself up. There was no turning back. She can't return to Mark in disgrace. What would be her excuse? Mark, I was frightened by poor people? What would her Master think? What would Opa think? With renewed confidence, she moved toward the exit. As she stood, a few remaining passengers followed, moving to block the doors. FUCK. She looked up, meeting the eyes of a lanky looking feller in a workman's overalls. With a pounding heart, she turned and saw another man, older and uglier, blocking the back exit. A third man was making his way towards her, this one was taller, with a beer belly that hung over too-tight jeans. Instinctively, Gwen pulled on her dress, forcing the hem down another inch. She backed away sideways, wedged between two seats in the midst of the carriage. Whatever she chose to do, she preferred not to be sucker-punched by a sneak attack. "G'day, young lady." The man tipped his invisible hat mockingly. His eyes licked Gwen like a tongue, measuring her all over. The other two sniggered. "I was wondering," the man said piously. "If you might have some crystals to spare me and me-mates?" Crystals? Gwen could see the man's stained teeth and already felt sickened. She backed away a little more, almost pressing herself against the glass, but that seemed only to excite her assailants. Test number one? She wondered. Could she get herself out of this dilemma without three smoking corpses? "And if I do?" Gwen tested the waters, unsure where she was going. "Why, then we would leave ya well alone." The other two persisted in their ogling. It's just a few crystals- Gwen caught herself. No. Giving the men crystals was not a solution to her problem, it was an invitation. She swallowed nervously. Ariel, get ready. She commanded her Familiar; her marten had been feeding off her Empathic Link. Slowly, Gwen sensed the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. "Fine. If you let me get through the door, I'll give you something." The man nodded smugly, then motioned to his two companions. They watched as Gwen moved outwards carefully, ensuring that none of them stood behind her. The men hungrily eyed her bare legs, white and smooth, juxtaposing the oily sheen of their scabby skin. The trio followed her confidently as she made for the sliding door. When she arrived at the threshold, Gwen paused. "Here's the smallest change I have on me." She materialised a crystal shard. It resembled a mana crystal, but within was the churning, volatile mana of a Flashbang spell. She tossed it towards her would be assailants. The men watched it sail through the air, clinking and falling onto the floor of the train. Gwen ran as the men greedily groped for the crystal, their friendship instantly dissolved by potential profit. Behind her, the automatic doors slid to a close. Sprinting at a dead bolt, Gwen covered her ears as the carriage erupted in sound and light.

The click-a-clack of her Mary-Janes may as well be rolling thunder as Gwen Riverdanced down the concrete pavement. For about ten-meters, Gwen considered moving the rest of the way barefoot, though the sight of shattered glass killed that prospect outright. On the next platform, restless passengers began to gather around the light and noise emitting violently from the terminated carriage. Thankfully, she made it without incident to the escalator extending upward toward the street level. The automated stairs disregarded her presence when she clanked onto its metallic surface. Nothing, it was unpowered, some sod probably dug out the mana crystal or disconnected the power. Gwen groaned inwardly, then loudly clunked her way up and over the metal, making enough noise to mimic a theatrical troupe. When she had finally emerged, two stories worse for wear, she was already sweating profusely. There was something about the air here, oppressive, low and moist, like the night before a thunderstorm. The avenue that now unfolded before Gwen was the streetscape she had seen earlier from the shelter of the carriage. Immediately, a stench violently violated her sense of smell. It was a tongue-tingling scent of age-old urine, a stinging synaesthesia of neglect and destitution: so vivid that Gwen wondered if she should stun her face to numb its senses. Gathering her wits, she surveyed her surroundings, finding a half dozen homeless men peering at her from the shelter of their cardboard boxes. Their eyes met, the men's wide-open with disbelief; Gwen’s watery with the injurious odour of their wastewater. A spark of electricity escaped her fingers. She watched wordlessly as the men retreated into their boxes like hermit crabs. One of them even had a lid with a hand-scrawn ‘CLOSED’. What? Her mind wandered unpleasantly. For what activity had the man been open for? Shaking herself from the stupor, Gwen realised she had to keep moving. 'Splat!' Half-a-meter later, she found herself inch deep in something. Not daring to look down, Gwen persisted in moving forward. It only took a hundred meters for her to be beset by her worst fear. Where the hell was anything around here? She had a general idea of where Stacey was, but there was no landmark, not even a street sign to show her the way. Perhaps she should ask one of the box people? That seemed like the best course of action. They appeared docile and likely wouldn't test her mettle. Feeling confident, Gwen gathered her courage, fortified her nose, and walked toward one of the boxes. The one with the ‘closed’ sign seemed as good as any other. “Hey!” a voice called out. Ah, here we go. Gwen cursed her presentiment. She had been expecting to be accosted, although not so soon. She turned on her heels, placing herself between the box people and the gang. There were no walls here to shield her back, so the box-hermits would have to do. From their attire and age, she confirmed that these were very same ones who had attempted to glass the dog earlier. These young ones were not like the old hermit men. She could read the continence of their body, the manner in which they carried themselves. These men were bored. Bored and unemployed, and that made them stupid and dangerous. “Oi sweetheart!” One of the young men called out in a voice that made Gwen’s jaws clench. Let’s try to do this peacefully, give that old charisma a workout, she told herself. Gwen knew she had panicked a little on the train when she had gotten crowded, but her mind was measured and calm now. It was amazing, what she could acclimatise herself to, given sufficient time and crisis. “Gents,” she answered coldly, standing her ground firmly with her legs slightly apart, her heels well planted in the mysterious gunk. Avoiding them would only incite them, what she needed to do was project was the idea that fucking with her was a terrible idea. With that intent in mind, Gwen circulated a mote of lightning mana through her body, lighting her irises with a pale, cobalt glow. The leading lad, a skinny young man with a tattered, dirty white Tee and jeans, stopped himself cold. “Cor! You got some freaky eyes,” he replied, then again loudly to his friends. “Beautiful glowing electric eyes!” This one's rather acute. Gwen was pleased. Maybe this won't go over so badly. But if Gwen had expected the speaker's friends to be awed into withdrawing, she would be disappointed. Rather than heeding their friend's warning, the rest of the gang instead congregated around her in a semi-circle. After all, it wasn’t every day that a six-foot beauty in heels and couture walked through Blackheath. Be it curiosity or something more nefarious, their intention mattered little to Gwen, for all she could see was a pack of fanned out mongrels eyeing a stray cat. “Oi, mates, she’s a Mage.” The acute one stated again before repeating himself. “A quasit Mage.” To both Gwen and the young man's chagrin, his 'mates' remained oblivious, far too enthralled by the prospect of mobbing the girl and having their fun. Their obtuse reactions made Gwen even more furious. Can’t a girl chat up a hobo in peace? Did these dickheads take their cue from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange? Fighting her better impulses, she remained determined to resolve this peacefully: after all, how far could she go if she had to drop a Flashbangs every other block? “Gents, I would move on.” Gwen attempted to stare them down. In her mind, she assumed the air of a dangerous, confident Mage. She didn't know that in their eyes, she was a defiant prey tugging on their testosterone. When they still refused to move, Gwen knew she had to escalate. She produced her ID, the one for the Public Practice of Magic, from her bag. “Tower business,” she intoned coldly. “Remove yourselves from my sight.” A few of them drew back. One of the young men edged closer carefully and read the card. “Ha!” He suddenly hooted, “She’s only 16!” “What the fuck, for real?” “Ha ha ha…” “What's this sheila think she's doing?” “Who you think you trying-ta-scare?” "A real school girl?" "Maybe she's from one of dem private academies, out here looking for thrills." FUCK! Gwen screamed internally, almost snapping her card in half. Fuck, I am an idiot. A fucking imbecile. She might as well have pulled out her student card and warned them that bullying was for losers. Without warning, the young man nearest to her moved to grab her hand. Backpeddling, Gwen cursed under her breath, then allowed the electrified mana to infuse her body. A semi-circle ring of electricity sprung up around her, forming a Semi-Dome Shield. She was using her Gunther Shield, a two-layered wedge of crackling Lightning with a cushion of raw mana particles in between. Her control was far weaker than the Radiant Magus, but it stopped low-tier projectiles just fine. “Fuck! She's for reals!” “Shit! She’s a Lightning Sorc...” In the next moment, the men scattered like beaten dogs, fleeing from the vicinity and into the dark alleyways and byways that were formed by the chaotic architecture. Around Gwen, the air hummed and sizzled with fresh ozone, her lightning crackling and whipping the air currents into a frenzy. One lad remained, the astute one, nervously wringing his hands. “What do you want?” Gwen demanded coldly. The young man swallowed hard; Gwen could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do… do you need a tut?” “What the hell is a tut?” Gwen's tone possessed an edge of frost. Was he offering her drugs at a time like this? “Like- a street guy, a guide, like, maybe I could show you around.” Oh? Gwen's face remained impassive. That sounded exactly like what she needed. Still, she had to be careful. It's all a part of her test. “What makes you think I need a tut?” She asked. “I got business here. Mage business. What makes you think I want to be disturbed?” “Right… right…” The young man supplicated by lowering his profile. He looked like a skulking rat. “So, you know your way around here, do ya? Used to live in this neck of the woods?” Gwen glared at him. Their eyes met. She could sense the low cunning in his face. It wasn't malicious, but it was conniving and greedy, the look of a guy wanting to make a quick buck. “So… can a guy show you around-like? Save you some bother? Just doing a good deed, right?” Of course, the gangster was right. With a snap of her will, the Shield around her waned, leaving only the smell of burning cardboard. “Like, ya need to watch where ya shoving spells around ‘ere." Her self-imposed companion advised. "It's real dangerous for the common folk.” Gwen glared at him. “Juz saying, Miss...Cuz you juz set Bub’s house on fire.” Gwen spun around and saw that she had indeed set alight one of the old men’s cardboard houses. By now, the flame had almost reached the petrified old man, who preferred being burnt alive to making any sudden movements while behind her. She swore and kicked at the cardboard, sending half of it flying. “N’ now he’s homeless too,” the acute man observed sardonically. Gwen faced her criticiser angrily, forcing the feller to shirked away like a whipped dog backing away from a raised hand. “You jus like the others! You Mages don't care none, stepping all over us with your fancy pyrotechnics,” He sulked. “Ya tossers think you’re all so righteous.” Fuck, right in the heart, Gwen grumbled annoyedly. The man was right. She had been careless, but she wasn't about to prove him right. Forcing a smile to her face, she turned back toward the newly homeless Bub and hunkered down to speak to him at eye level, careful not to touch the sticky floor. “Tell me where this is.” She produced the scrap paper with Stacey's last whereabouts, simultaneously pulling out an LDM crystal. “And I’ll compensate you for your house.” The old man regarded Gwen with bewilderment, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. Gwen noted that he had no teeth, just red and infected gums. Instantly, she baulked. The smell that came from his breath was enough to make her eyes run. Overwhelmed by the sudden revulsion, she dropped the shard in the man's lap and removed herself from his vicinity. She was ready to fry a folk or two, but she wasn't ready to face decades of dental neglect. “Ya wasting good shard, I tell ya.” The bloody young man was still there! Gwen felt an urge to let loose a blast on the annoying little punk. “Oi, I know that address, you looking for a good deal? To pick up some goods? I can take you ta see the Boss. She runs the place you're after, she does.” Gwen held up a scrap of paper. If nothing else, the acute young man had acute eyesight. “You know this place?” “Sure do.” If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. “You can take me there?” “For a crystal- for two crystals, I’ll walk you the whole way.” His face lit up. “You better not be lying to me, Acute.” “Whose acute?” “You are,” Gwen said smugly. “I am cute?” The young man blushed. “…” Gwen allowed the moment to pass. “What’s your name?” “Anthony, but me mates call me Tonna, as in a ton-o-shit. On account that I am all glib like.” “Right, Anthony.” “Tonna, please.” “Tony,” Gwen said firmly. They stood awkwardly while Bub carefully bit into the crystal, gumming it. He must have acknowledged its authenticity, because in the next split-second he was gone, bolting away into the darkness of the hive city. "..." Gwen turned to Tony. “Tell me about this place. Tell me about 'Boss'.” Tony gave her a big grin that was full of tobacco-stained earnestness. “We walk and talk yeah? It’s at least a good half hour away, even going through shortcuts.” “You better not be trying to shaft me…” Gwen warned, flashing a crackle of electricity. “No Miss, no way,” Tony assured her. They departed from the plaza, Tony falling in step beside Gwen. “You’re tall Miss, so pretty, you a model out in the city?” “I am a Mage and an... an Agent.” Gwen corrected herself. “Prettiest girl I ever see Miss, prettier than even the ones at the Boss's place.” The man kept stealing sideways glances at her, seemingly disbelieving every other moment that she was real. Gwen could see he was full of questions as well. Where did she come from, why was she here? What were her three sizes? The man's antsy manner had his curiosity clawing at his throat like cats on a piled-rug. They were now moving into a complex, though Gwen used the word complex loosely because it was more accurate to say that she was between buildings. Without any regard for code, whatever government housing that had once existed were now extensions built on top of other extensions, giving the place the feel of a sprawling Jenga tower. As they moved deeper, Gwen could feel wayward eyes upon her. When she looked up at the windows, she could sense gazes darting away, sometimes accompanied by the sound of slamming windows. “Tell me about this Boss,” Gwen insisted. “Alright…” Tony considered his choices and went with the first one. “She owns that building you’re trying ta get to.” “What does she do?” "She's a broker,” Tony continued. “The old house is her place of business, lots of people work there.” “What kind of business?” “Ah well, ya know, the usual kind here.” “Drugs? Prostitutes? Got any Mages there?” Gwen's voice rose an octave. “Sure, here and there. No whores though, nothing so low, she's a stock trader.” Now it was Gwen’s turn to say, 'What the fuck?'. “Ya know, goods, like stocks, inventory, that sort of thing.” “What kind of portfolio does she deal with?” “Port... Wha? She does business - you know, with people like you.” Tony was gazing at Gwen like she was the weird one. Maybe the too-pretty Mage wasn’t in the know after all. They said that looks could be deceiving. The ones that came from outside to see the Boss were all pretty weird. God knows they had some sick tastes. "Just keep talking," Gwen commanded as the passage became narrower yet again. "She real good to us, keep us fed. Brought water to the area, that kind of thing." "What do you do for her?" "I am just a runner, message boy, on account that we got no crystals for Message here." "You said other Mages come here often?" "Nah, just once a month. People like you, looking to buy." "Tell me more..." They continued to walk, the corridor getting narrower until Gwen had to duck between buildings that hung too low, filling some sections with fetid water. Luckily, her new ‘mate’, Tony, offered himself as a tribute, stand in the puddle and allowing Gwen to balance herself without the risk of slipping and falling into sewerage. The little bugger could be cute like that, Gwen amused herself. Now to see what his Boss had in store for her. According to Tony, the place was likely a trafficker's den. If so, they could be holding her target. To Gwen, she was beginning to see how her Quest was shaping up. A smuggler's den full of NoM criminals meant she could exercise her spells without getting into trouble. In the off-chance she ran into a Mage or two, she was sure they couldn't compare to the likes of Gunther and Alesia. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the street once known as Rogan Crescent, Blackheath, G6: 266 on her defunct map. From station to the den, the duo had walked for over forty minutes, though Gwen was positive they were no more than four to five kilometres from the station. The building itself was an amalgamation of several fire hazards combined to create a multi-storey OSHA nightmare, looking as though it could go up in flames and create a national tragedy at a moment's notice. The windows were boarded up, not suspiciously at all, and only a single entrance made itself known. The was a bouncer out front, a giant of a man with a bull-like facade, build like a brick shit-house. "Oi, Tonna, who's the chick? She a real stunner, mate." The man cracked his neck impressively as they approached. "We need to see Bozza, Pieto." "This the right address?" Gwen looked up at the tower of horrors. "Yeppers." She turned to Pieto. In Gwen's eyes, the crack-house-mafioso-urban-decay looked lifted straight from a B-grade film. "You want in or not, lady?" Piet blasted Gwen with his loudspeaker voice. Gwen hesitated but told herself that between Ariel, herself and Caliban, she should be fine. After all, she also had her non-Newtonian Shield. There was no way some NoMs could get through that. "I am here to buy." Gwen flashed her Public-Practice I.D at him, too quick for Pieto to see. Before Pieto could respond, she moved for the door, just like in the films she had seen. To think there'd be one day she would be using Hollywood flicks as real-life references! To her dismay, her passage became blocked by a thick, hairy hand the width of her waist. "Gotta check youse for weapons." Pieto grinned idiotically; his intentions couldn't be more blatant if he had tattooed it on his face. "No," Gwen replied. "Fuck off." "No check, no entry," Pieto insisted. "Oi Pieto mate, I wouldn't try if I was you. She's a quasit, the blue and sparkly kind," Tony added beside them. "You'd be lucky if ya just pissed and shat ya-self right here. If Bozza found out you tried to stop an Initiate she'd have you skinned." Pieto did not look pleased to be interrupted. "You bringing trouble for Bozza, Tonna?" "Nah, mate, she got business, don't cha Miss?" "I do indeed. I am looking for someone. Your Boss should know." "You got a name for the Boss?" "Gwen," Gwen said simply. "Why am I wasting my time speaking to you again?" Pieto growled menacingly. Eyeing her figure hungrily, he back off. In the man's limited mind, he realised that a girl waltzing into Blackheath showing that much leg likely had no qualms dealing with unwanted attention. "See? No dramas mate." Tony tried to laugh it off. Pieto shrugged. Whatever she may be, the girl was above his paygrade. "Fine. I got my eyes on you, Tunna. She fucks up and I beat you like a dog." "Ha ha.. eh..." Tony choked on his own laughter. Pieto moved to open the door. Reinforced Hardwood. Gwen noted. No 'average' Mage could blast through that, but she should be fine. Her mind caressed Caliban and Ariel for a second, who were both snuggled in their pocket dimensions, semi-aware of Gwen's circumstances. Using her Empathic Link, she told them to get ready. Ariel responded with an 'Eee!'; Caliban growled, informing her of its eternal hunger. Within, a few wayward strobes of glow-bulbs long past their mana dates shed a sickly light. There was an immediate smell that Gwen found foul and familiar at once, reminding her of the synthetic weed that people used to smoke in her old world. Gwen eyed Tony again: the young man seemed to be at ease, his body language betraying nothing. The stink grew in intensity as the door closed behind them with a 'thunk'. Well shit, I am in the thick of it now, Gwen fought her better instincts to remain calm, hoping that she wasn't about to throw shit at the fan. Along the way, she spied a glimpse into one of the rooms along the corridor: there was one with its door ajar. Within was a woman, naked from the waist up, drawing blue smoke from a glowing pot. Gwen reminded herself that the whole place was a fire stack. They soon reached what appeared to be an atrium carved out of someone's living room, now opened up to two storeys via a violently displaced ceiling. The broken skylight was covered by semi-transparent canvases, providing light and shelter. There was a woman in the midst of the room, elevated upon a divan that placed among piled up rugs and cushions. She languishingly puffed away on a hookah, sending out jet streams of blue and grey smoke. Her most distinguishing feature was her hair and her scar, a crawling pink thing that ran from the base of her jaw to the tip of her right eye. Wow, nasty, Gwen winced. Another millimetre and she would be one-eyed Bozza. Her hair was neon-electric, adding a dash of colour to the otherwise drab room. The woman dressed in a pair of skintight calfskin pants rounded off with a black tank top, pushing her considerable bust together to form a deep cleavage. "Who's this, Tunna?" the woman asked. "She's a Mage, looking to buy." "What you looking for sweetie?" "My name is Gwen," Gwen announced, it never hurt to be polite. "I am taking delivery of Stacey Cantwell." "Bozza. Nice ta meet cha." The woman seemed surprised. "You sure came quick. What's with the urgency?" Gwen did her best to read Bozza's body language. The 'Boss' did not appear to be hostile, not even tense. Additionally, she seemed entirely at ease with Gwen's presence, even prepared. "Master's orders." Gwen switched lanes of enquiry, keeping her reply as vague as possible. If she could talk her way out of this, Marc would surely be impressed as anything and so would her Master. "Where is the girl now?" "She's down below." "What are we waiting for then?" Gwen demanded, injecting a tingle of annoyance into her voice. Over on the dais, the 'Boss' looked Gwen over. In her eyes, Gwen lacked the creepiness of the crew she had come to expect, but even she had to admit the young Mage had spunk. Just rocking up in Blackheath in that dress was enough of a ballsy move. With a bemused snort, she wondered if the girl had her fun on the way in and what damage she had done. "Jones, go get the girl." Bozza made a motion with her hand Another bouncer, a Maori this time, materialised from the dark recesses of the chamber. So many nooks and crannies, Gwen glanced around nervously. As they waited for the Maori to return, Bozza seemed interested in making small talk. "So, which House you from?" Bozza seemed very keen indeed to speak to Gwen. "Didn't realise they sent pretty little things like you out for errands. I wouldn't want to let you out of my sight for a second if you were my blood-sister." What? Gwen thought. What the hell is this woman talking about? "Comes with the territory," Gwen answered, playing along. "You bred and born in-house? Or did they dig you up from somewhere and had you contracted to serve?" Gwen smiled coldly. "Born and raised," she tested the waters. "Nice. That lightning element all yours?" "Au natural." "Ho ho, halcyon days? They're grooming you to be a big-wig!" Bozza cooed at Gwen, licking her lips. "Young pretty little thing like you, must have the Maguses in a tiff, no? Got yourself a few old men to syphon crystals? When'd you start?" "Young," Gwen replied briskly. Inwardly, she was fighting back the bile in her throat. "Fuck. Lucky you. Got a bright future ahead." She smiled, making a smacking sound with her lips. "Hows Master Klaus?" "Angry." Gwen persisted in her laconicism role. Come on, woman, Gwen felt her stomach knot. Where the fuck was Stacey? "Ha ha!" Bozza laughed, her voice like the cawing of crows. "Ah, here's the merchandise." Gwen turned to see the Maori pushing a giant box toward her on a trolley. The bouncer respectfully stopped half-a-meter from Gwen, popped the box-top, then stepped back. Within, amongst fresh hay, was a young woman cradled in the foetal position. She appeared to be unconscious, or at least in some form of deep slumber. Stacey was entirely naked, immobilised by a calfskin strap wrapped around her neck, linked together her hands and feet. Even if the girl awoke somehow, she couldn't struggle free without enduring painful contortions. With the human 'cargo' presented in full, Gwen felt her throat constrict. Within her bosom, her heart jackhammered against her chest. Fuck! She screamed internally. What the fuck is this and how is it an appropriate first mission for a novice like me? But an act's an act. Gwen knew she was in too deep to pull out. Leaning down to 'inspect' the goods, she noted tags tied to the girl's feet. **S. Cantwell** F (21) Illusion (1) Water (1) "Satisfied?" Bozza asked in a friendly voice. "You want to pay in crystals, cash, or items?" "How much?" Gwen asked, ironing her nerves and modulating her tone and cadence. Bozza regarded Gwen, puzzled. Her voice was tinged with suspicion when she next spoke. "The agreed amount. Your Master's not thinking of Jewing me, is he?" "I simply need to affirm the amount," Gwen stated matter-of-factly. "Forty Large." Forty HDM crystals... Gwen made a mental calculation in her mind. She had just enough. If she managed to scrape together all her HDM and LDMs, it was enough. Was it too much to pay in small change? Gwen wondered. Crystals are crystals, surely? On the other hand, what if things go south? Should she subdue them then call the Police? She was confident she could take everyone in the atrium. Only Bozza seemed like a Mage, and her aura was feeble. Perhaps a powerful show of force would frighten them? She could also retreat and call Mark. Yes! She should call Mark. The Madam had been anticipating an angry family member or a vindictive group of Mage-haters. A 'Slaver's Den' was at least an 11 on a scale of 5. Blood-sister? Bond-slave? These guys are human traffickers! "Well? What will it be?" Bozza's voice was outright antagonistic now. Gwen flashed her Storage Ring. "Boss!" A familiar voice called out from the direction of the exit. Pieto entered the room in a huff, glaring at Gwen with unmistakable hostility. Every hair stood on Gwen's neck. He had another woman behind him, shorter than Gwen, wearing a dark cowl that hid her face. "Master, this Mistress Mage says that she is here for the Cantwell pickup. Tunna! Who the fuck did you say this girl was?" The entire gathering turned to look at Tony, who was by now sweating buckets, literally standing in a pool of his excretions. "I- I found her by the station; she was looking for this place..." A heavy silence fell over Tony's audience. "Tonna..." Bozza said carefully, rising from her divan chair. "Who... the ... FUCK is this Mage?" "She's a.... a Tower Mage!" Tony stuttered, realising that he had made a dire, dreadful, deadly mistake. "And who might you be, seeking to impersonate an Initiate?" The cowled Mage demanded of Gwen. "I would like to know as well. Gwen." Bozza's eyes flashed, Gwen caught a flow of mana escaping Bozza's hair, wetting her hair. She was a Water Mage. The two bouncers drew out steel batons, extending them with a swish of their hand. Beside her, the female Mage threw open her cowl, revealing a daring outfit of dark flowing silk, her young face framed by a pixie cut. From her, Gwen felt free-flowing motes of Air. Awww SHIT. Gwen's mind kicked into overdrive. She could only hope all her training paid off. Bozza allowed her Body of Water to suffuse her form, making her resistant to fire and physical attacks. There were two girl-Mages before her. The cowled one looked the part, while the other one was out of place. She had been careless, Bozza swore, the bitch had caught her off guard. The fact that she was momentarily bamboozled likely meant there would be a penalty from their employer. But the girl was herself a prize. This 'Gwen' was a rare specimen. If Bozza could offer her as a gift to the Houses, she would not only avoid punishment - but receive a reward! She commanded her goons to subdue the young Mage, watching the girl as she pull-back in fright and panic. The young sorceress was fresh, untested. Just looking at her face, Bozza knew that the stupid whelp would panic once her charade was up. She almost laughed when Gwen fell to one knee, a dozen mana crystals scattering in all directions in her moment of distress. "!" Bozza felt the air vibrate. Something was off. The HDM crystals Gwen had scattered thrummed with unstable mana. What the hell was she doing? Was the girl trying to blow herself up? Bozza wondered bemusedly. Then suddenly, a tenebrous Shield smothered their target. A Shielding spell like nothing she had ever seen before. A black membrane darker than black, a perfect semi-sphere that sucked in all light. "The fu..." Bozza started to swear, but no one heard her curse. 'Crack!' The Flashbang crystals shattered; from within, came the sound of thunder.

The half-dozen Flashbang shards erupted with enough sound and fury to flake wallpaper from the walls. Nestled safely within the shelter of her Void shield, Gwen counted to three, then dispelled her half-sphere dome. As expected, Void Shield drained little vitality when pitted against sound and lumens, resulting in a little more than shortness of breath. Once the tenebrous membrane faded, the wailing of her assailants and their lamentations assaulted her ears. Bozza was out of her water form, vomiting and puking her guts out on the floor. The NoM bouncers were bleeding from every facial orifice, holding their heads in their hands and groaning. The Initiate air Mage covered the side of her head, crimson oozing from between her fingers. A powder coat of dust drifted from the ceiling, falling like filthy-snow. Gwen raised a hand and conjured Ariel; a secondary jolt expanded her Familiar into its combat form. Bozza gasped as a white mongoose balled her over, snarling and growling, it's slavering fangs an inch from her face. The Initiate crawled onto her knees. "Air Whip!" Gwen preemptively dived sideways, having felt the motes of air manifest before the spell materialised, a spontaneous reaction drilled into her by Alesia. A barbed whip of cutting wind whooshed past her face, marking a white line across the dark concrete. The Initiate then staggered upright, her recovery quicker than Gwen had expected. Calling another spell to her lips, Gwen swung her momentum into a forward combat roll, landing on her feet. Ariel! She commanded mentally. Atop Bozza, her mongoose armed its fur for an electric assault. "Blast Bolt!" Though her enemies outnumbered Gwen, she wasn't worried. Common knowledge dictated that Summoners had much higher combat potential than Mages of the same tier. In an equal powered spell exchange, attacker and defender had to wait for opportunities to penetrate their opponent's Shield. Though it was possible to maintain both defence and offence, the complexity of the multi-tasking operation seldom favoured both. With Gwen possessed one of the more dominant offensive elements, not to mention an Evocation specialisation, it took all of her opponent's concentration to shore up her defence. Whereas Gwen directly commanded Ariel to hold fire until the Air Mage dropped her Shield to retaliate. "Eee!" Her mongoose shotgunned a fistful of lightning darts at the Air Mage, catching the novice off-guard. "Air Cann... Arrgh!" Before the girl could even finish, she took a dozen of needles to the chest, sending her staggering backwards. "Lighting Bolt!" Gwen invoked her staple offensive spell. A bolt of cobalt tore open the Initiate's despondent barrier. The resultant explosion flung the Mage bodily through the air and into a wall. One down! Gwen refocused her attention. All hell had broken loose over the compound now; doors were opening and people emerging from every nook and cranny. The cacophony of the Flashbang had shaken the gang members from their haze-induced stupor. From the west wing, Gwen saw a half dozen men and women emerging from what must be a guard’s room, carrying clubs and blades. Bringing knives to a Spell fight? "Get back!" she howled, having learnt to inject her voice with mana to enhance its volume. She fired off a Lightning Bolt, skidding the plasma off the walls, scorching the plaster. At the end of the corridor, the bolt struck a boarded-up window, blowing out its glass and leaving behind only the frames. In its aftermath, nought but the scent of ozone and black specs of floating, burning wallpaper remained. That and there was now a window from which they could escape. The goons fled, crawling over one another. The promise of blue smoke wasn't enough to fight a Mage, much less a Quasi-elemental Conjurer. Noting the bouncers by her side, Gwen activated a flash of lightning from her Lightning Blade. With a groan, both Pieto and the Maori were down and out, convulsing on the floor. A few more rubberneckers to risk life and limb out of curiosity, but Gwen sent them packing with cheap cantrips. Bozza turned painfully to look for the Initiate: her client’s once lovely face was a wreck of burns and bruised flesh, her body half buried in plaster. Her goons were fleeing left, right and centre. "You are going to regret this." She uttered dangerously to Gwen. "When the Masters find out what you’ve done to the Initiate, what you are trying’ ta do to their merchandise, you’re going to wish you were never born. You'd be bred in the barracks until you die." Gwen's eyes flashed. Ariel took a swipe at Bozza's cheek, snapping her head back painfully and leaving behind three bloody reminders on her face. She approached Stacey. Thanks to the chaotic action and commotion, whatever glamour which had kept Stacey docile was now dispelled. From Gwen's elevated vantage, she could see that her ears were bleeding. Ah, fuck! Only now did Gwen realised that her haphazard strategy had neglected the fact that her V.I.P was within the AoE. Thankfully, Stacey appeared otherwise unharmed. First, Gwen commanded Ariel to chew through Stacey’s leather bindings. She then produced the only other outfit she had prepared, a compact raincoat she had stowed in her ring, and wrapped it around Stacey's shivering body. "You alright Stacey? Your sister sent me," Gwen affected a kindly voice. "The Madam is expecting your return. You're safe now." Stacey still appeared disorientated; her face was full of fright and panic, though from Flashbang or glamour Gwen couldn't guess. Furthermore, Stacey seemed oblivious to her nakedness, gazing up at Gwen with an expression of utter incomprehension. Moreover, her eyes were abnormal, her pupils widely dilated. Watching the girl and feeling the lack of resistance in her body, Gwen confessed that circumstances were quickly escalating out of her control. "Stacey, can you hear me? My name is Gwen; the Madam sent me..." She persisted. "..." Stacey forced a smile to her face. The girl appeared younger than her sister, less experienced, almost innocent. But the girl wasn't heeding her words. Time wasn't on their side, Gwen cursed as she grew increasingly more concerned, how should she move the girl? By force? Perhaps she could conscript one of the men here. Above and below, she could now hear the commotion of more bodies moving throughout the building. She had been watching the corridors, but the rapid footfalls informed her there were other means of traversing through the interior. She needed backup; she needed to call Mark. With a flick of her hand, she materialised her Message Device. Just as she was about to punch in Mark's glyph, Stacey escaped her protection, forgoing Gwen’s raincoat. With surprising agility, Gwen's ward stumbled past Ariel, past Bozza, and made straight for the hookah. There, the woman dropped to all fours, tore a mouthpiece from the bulbous bottom, then began to draw out its euphoric contents greedily. Gwen felt her heart sink as Stacey exhaled a long stream of blue-grey smoke. The girl then sat cross-legged, heedless of her indecent exposure, and began to rhythmically huff at the phallic mouthpiece with a look of pure bliss. "What ... what the hell did you do to her?" Gwen demanded of Bozza, stunned by the grotesqueness of it all. "She's too far gone" Bozza cackled, her face splitting into a malicious grin. "You'd just be saving a worthless junky now. Once the Blue had its claws into you, it's all over." Gwen repositioned beside Stacey and tried prying her away from the hookah. "Stacey, listen to me, Sally is waiting to see you, that stuff's poison, come on, we need to go." Stacey's grip on the hookah was stronger than she had anticipated, but the woman was no match for Gwen's tempered strength. The moment Gwen tore her away, however, a look of panic and pain took over Stacey's ashen face. In her distress, her flailing bare legs kicked the hookah, dropping it from the platform. The device fell heavily and a part of its mechanism come loose with a clattering jangle. The powder compressed within blew out in a rolling fog that flowed over the struggling girls, covering them in an expansive envelopment of blue dust. Gwen held her breath, careful as not to breath it in. "!" The engendering of an indistinct magical phenomenon filled the air. On reflex, Gwen whipped around, manifesting a semi-dome Shield of lightning. Her eyes scanned the room, surveying nothing of interest. The Initiate-Mage was still in the wall, the bouncers comatose and Bozza pinned by Ariel. I can’t escort Stacey like this… Gwen cursed her dilemma. She wasn't strong enough to carry the girl, and Stacey was too drugged up to be relocated compliantly. Filling with frustration, she fought off an immense migraine, wishing she lie down and sleep. Producing her Message Device, she hammered the Glyph for Mark. In the course of her action, a curious sense of déjà vu swept over her. "Mark, I need backup," she spoke immediately into the floating icon. "I am in trouble. The gang who caught Stacey are people traffickers!" "You're kidding! Are you alright?" Mark's unmistakable voice soothed her nerves. Gwen began to explain what she had found while scanning for danger. The Initiate was in the wall, the bouncers were down, and Bozza was on the floor. Ariel remained on top of Bozza, but to her surprise, it was no longer in its combat form. "Eee! Eeeee!" Ariel! What are you doing? Gwen demanded. The adorable marten began to screech and scream at her, its face beset with worry, it was gesticulating at something. Gwen tried to access their Empathic Link but found her thoughts muddled and full of interference. It felt as though they were trying to speak underwater, shouting across distant rooms. What the hell is happening? She felt drunk. To her growing incredulity, Bozza rose from the floor. But it wasn't Bozza. Instead, the gang leader possessed a beautiful face both sensuous and desirous, full of exciting promises, gazing into her eyes with a pair of hazel orbs Gwen would recognise anywhere. Helena Huang, her mother, was standing in front of her with an expression full of mocking disappointment. Rigidly, Gwen froze. What's she doing here? Her mind cried out in confusion and panic. The agony in her brain was akin to being probed by fingers of fire. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Mother! What? A-are you a part of this?" "You have failed us terribly, Gwen. I guess in the end, your Uncle was right. Your only use was in bedding your betters, go back to Forrestville, Gwen. Go home! Forget about your future. Shut up! Don't you dare speak to me like that! Get out! Go to your room!" Gwen reeled from the force of her mother's psychic command as though struck by a physical blow. A part of her mind questioned this reality. She tried to pierce through it all, but her will had been reduced to wool. Was she the victim of an Enchantment? An Illusion? But Gwen's consciousness was already spiralling, taken by dark and troubled waters, drawn by the suck of a psychic sea. The weight of the mongoose beast faded into motes of fizzing lightning, finally allowing Bozza to rise onto her shoulder. She had been in her water-form when the sonic blast struck. The combination had shifted every molecule in her body, introducing her to the indescribable feeling of having every organ rattled. Beside her, the blasted lightning girl was now talking to thin air, emoting expressions of disbelief and shock, her face undergoing the various stages of one taken by Phantasmal Killer. Thank the Magus there was an Enforcer here, Bozza coughed, spitting out blood. With great annoyance, she realised she would have to beg for a high-tier restoration potion. "Let's hope Master is feeling charitable," a voice spoke quietly from across the room. The owner of the voice was a stick-thin Mage with a pulled back cowl. His eyes were deeply sunken into his overlarge skull, his gaze dark and sickly. Pale, jaundiced skin wrapped the man's skull like stretched canvas; as he spoke, a shortness of breath gave the impression of permanent illness. With a glance, his victim's imaginary horror grew in intensity. The duo watched as the girl flailed and stumbled, failing to flee from some unseen foe. The sorceress resisted well, but ultimately fell to her knees and began to whimper. The gaunt Mage grunted with yet more exertion, pushing more mana into his spell. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he sought to overwhelm the last bastion of the girl's will. Finally, their victim convulsed, once, and laid still upon the stained concrete floor. "Tough customer." The Enforcer grunted. "She's strong. As strong as a Magus." He looked at Bozza, who stood beside him quietly, one hand trying to hold her guts in. "Amazing specs on that one." The Illusionist exhaled. "I could feel... something, even when a part of her mind was overwhelmed, another part of her kept fighting. Did you see her casting?" "Yeah, Evocation and Conjuration," Bozza responded with a measure of jealousy. "Looks like you might be in for promotion after all. What luck huh? A one in a million prize waltzed right into your lap." The Enforcer chuckled sardonically. "Maybe you did something great in a past life?" Bozza grunted. She kicked her bouncers until they were awake. It would have taken the drug-rats days to recover from the paralysis, but these were large men with well-fed constitutions. Pieto and the Maori regained their senses. Their body had been beaten, but their mistress's order was absolute. The Maori took Stacey, who was still in a half stupor trying to breathe in the blue dust. Roughly, he wrapped his hand around her neck. She moaned painfully but had no motivation to struggle or flee. Pulling her upward, the big man then wrapped his arms around her legs, scooping her up bodily before moving into one of the corridors. Pieto, his mug face full of undisguised intention, moved to pick Gwen from the floor. "No drugs," the Enforcer stated coldly. "No damage must come to this cargo. She's worth more than you and your entire family ten times over." "Don't fuck this up, take the utmost care," Bozza commanded her goon as well. The Boss then turned to her companion. "She's yours anyway. You managed to capture her. You take the credit." "We share the credit," came the reply. "Trust me. You'll need that healing potion if you want to live past forty." Bozza smiled, an expression that was unbecoming on her scarred face. The Enforcer had worked with her for a year now, and though they had a professional relationship, he could be softie too. Was it a quirk? She sometimes wondered. He wasn't a sick fuck like some of the men who came down to Blackheath, just a man doing a job. For a while now, she'd been curious as to his identity, but dared not pry. That was strictly forbidden. Meanwhile, Pieto was already getting handsy. "Pieto, you want to lose that hand?" Bozza barked at her simple-minded bouncer. The man had scooped the girl in his arms but was attempting to slide a hand under her dress. "You want to know what it's like to slowly drown over an hour?" "Sorry Bozza," Pieto sulked, princess carrying Gwen down another corridor. "Oi, Pieto..." "Yes, Boss?" "Strip her items for inspection, then get her ready for transport. We'll relocate tonight." They watched the big man disappear with the girl. Bozza's ears were still ringing with tinnitus. "What do you think?" "We need to move her quickly. She had a Ring of Storage. It looked to be a signature build too, pretty high tier." "Expensive." "Which means she's being tracked, I guarantee it." "Alright, what's the play?" “Scatter and hid, get our reward, then rebuild, wait for this to blow over." Bozza cursed. She rather liked the place. The Enforcer moved towards the broken plaster wall where Gwen's Lightning Bolt had deposited the Initiate. He pulled out the comatose girl, then placed a finger under her nose. "Still alive, nothing a few minor pots won't fix," he observed casually, smacking her face a few times until she began to awaken. "Wake up, Initiate." "What... what happened?" The girl stammered as she stirred, her eyes coming into focus. Her lumbar was between fire and ice. She must have broken something as well because she couldn't turn her torso without nearly fainting again. "You got your arse handed to you, that's what happened." The Enforcer replied. "They don't instruct your generation like they use to, huh? Too much horizontal training?" "That bitch!" The girl winced. "Where is she now?" "Getting set up for transport. We're cleaning the girl's trackers below in a shielded room." "I want to see, argh..." The Initiate knelt over, clutching her ribs. "You stay put, I'll get you back to the House." "I am fine... erg... oh fuck... " The initiate passed out again. The gaunt Mage shook his head. The new generation can be talented, sure, but they were bloody useless in a real fight. It was the peace, the lack of true grit learnt in trenches. Watching the two bicker, something that had been scratching the back of Bozza's head clicked. "Tonna! Tony! Anthony! Where the fuck are ya?" She was answered by the sound of the building creaking. Of course, the fucker's gone. Bozza spat. The guy had the tenacity of a cockroach. Bozza commanded another two goons to fetch a stretcher for the Initiate, placing her in an isolated room to rest until they could leave with all their merchandise. Activity was slowly returning to the compound, but the Enforcer's deduction was right. Soon, all of this would be gone. All her work for a year, up in smokes because some stupid Apprentice-in-training thought it her business to meddle Bozza's business. She ordered sentries to be set, ensuring that the base was fully alerted, then searched for some bloody clean bandages. Gwen dreamt, paralysed by phantasmal visions drawn from within herself. In her current vision, she had fought with Edgar for hours, and now she was out of mana. She watched in disbelief and horror as her assailant disintegrated her navy dress with a simple caress of his fingers, exposing the white of her globular breasts. His face was a mask of heat and lust, an amalgamation of various faces she had seen since coming to this world. That man on the train, those workmen who had catcalled her, those boys she had met at Uncles, even that young man she had just met, Tony. She raised a hand to blast him - Lightning Bolt! She invoked, but no power issued forth. She wasn't a Mage! Gwen remembered. She had failed her Awakening! She was just Gwen, the old Gwen, the NoM of her old world! Shit! Shit! She cried out, gesturing wildly but summoning nothing. Where was Ariel? Where was Caliban? Where were Alesia and Gunther and Henry and Mark? Hadn't they had all promised to help and protect her? Where were her friends? Yue and Elvia? "A NoM has no friends amongst the Mages, as sheep has no allies amongst wolves." The indistinct vision of Edgar mocked her. "I am afraid he's right," Another voice announced behind her. Gwen turned to see her mother, her face also hyperbolically surreal, twisted. "I am giving you to him." The voice that spoke was her Uncle's. No! Gwen cried out. No! No! No! I'd rather die. Kill me now! Kill me now you bastards! I want to go home! Go home to Sydney! "I am going to enjoy this." Edgar discarded his robes. Half his cheek was missing, as well as an arm and a leg. Dark blood oozed from the festered, necrotic wounds. "I will make this as long and unpleasant as possible, my sweet." Gwen bit her tongue. She bashed her head against the linen. Turning inward, Gwen dug deep for that font of power that was rightfully hers, like a madwoman digging with her bare hands, shredding nail and flinging blood with every handful of dirt, dredging the darkness even an ounce of power. All she needed was one mote, one mote and she could end it all. Then, just as Edgar's robe arrived at the edge of her vision, she found something. A dark ichor broke free from the crust of the earth like shale oil. It grew until it covered her white legs, wrapped her waist, touched her breasts, black and viscous, thick and suffocating. She had wanted salvation and now she was drowning in its obsidian opulence. If she could find no allies in the light, then she would call for the nameless ones in the dark; if the thick air above proved murderous, then she would breathe fetid water. Pieto slid his hands up and down Gwen's white thighs as he carried her, the girl's skin proved smooth and moist, toned and tender. She was so different to the women they held here; whose bodies were feeble and frail, wrecked by the Blue, nothing like the supple flesh in his arms. He kicked open the door to the lead-lined basement, where a dark corridor revealed a dozen more rooms. There were other merchandise here, men and women, but they were nothing like his prize. These poor bastards were locals: adolescents who awakened to one thing or another. They were fodder, useful for some dark purpose Pieto dared not know. The bullish man walked until reaching the final chamber, shouldering open an iron door. This one was larger than the others, cleaner. It had yellowing tiles that covered the floor, where a trickle of water dripped into a drain. Pieto made for the large steel table in the room's centre, where he deposited the girl's unconscious body, enjoying the feeling of her flaxen hair falling over his hairy arms. Should he undress her? It was the rational thing to do, but Pieto understood that Bozza would likely have something to say about that. Instead, he patted her down, removing from her dress a small purse just large enough for a few cards. He picked through her wallet and placed gingerly on the table her Student I.D, her Public Practice of Magic I.D, and after a moment of thought, pocketed the hundred or so dollars she had in notes. It was a perk that came with the job. He then took to her hands, feeling the softness of her fingertips. Not a day of labour, the large man noted, feeling a dark emotion welling in his chest. These bloody Mages! This one particular must have been raised like a princess. That was why she had blundered into Bozza's den, shooting lightning all over, stroking her ego with her superior existence. Continuing, he took off her storage ring, held it in his hands for a second, then placed it carefully next to her I.D. He wasn't a Mage, but he could tell from its craftsmanship that it was expensive. Her's wasn't some run of the mill Ring from a mall - a Master handcrafted it. Pieto tried to guess how much it was worth, and the answer only incensed him further. She had another ring, a nondescript, non-magical thing. A dark gem inlaid into a sterling silver band. That looks expensive, Pieto smacked his lips gently. Checking his surroundings, he tugged at her finger until it came loose. After gazing at it longingly for a second, he slipped it into his pocket. Magic for the Mages, and silver for people like us, Pieto rationalised. And speaking of perks, he grinned. The Enforcer and the Boss had to resolve matters above before they arrived below. Pieto's job was to ensure that the girl was tied and tethered. He rolled her pliant body over on its side, then folded her lower limbs until she was in a foetal position. Then, Pieto took a roll of leather strips from a hanging hook, and dextrously wrapped it around her ankles. The same length then moved between her legs, where he had placed her hands together as though she was in prayer. He made a butterfly loop around her hands before moving onto her swan-like neck, where he measured and cut the rest of the length. This way, if the sorceress struggled or strained against the strap, she would choke herself senseless. Pieto wasn't too bright, but he was good at his work. The positioning was expertly arranged, ensuring a smaller profile for transport as well as torturous bondage should the girl awake. Stepping back, Pieto regarded his handiwork. Even unconscious the girl was absurdly beautiful. Unashamed, he felt the mounting hardness of an all too natural compulsion. He couldn't touch her of course, proverbially, but that was just a manner of speaking. After all, he had bound and gagged her, right? It was a perk. With trembling hands full of anticipation, Pieto moved to unzip the side of her dress, his breathing growing more arrhythmic, laboured with every inch of exposed flesh, his hand trembling upon her flawless skin. Just a touch, he told himself. It's a perk. But as his fingers dug into girl's flesh, there was a slight thrum that engendered behind Pieto, accompanied by the sound of something landing wetly on the floor. Though usually alert, Pieto was too engrossed in his holy task to notice. He was a man on a mission, after all, his mind entirely and utterly focused on the task at hand. “Ha,” Pieto chuckled. He loved this part of his job. The high and mighty Mages were just people once you had they hogtied and gagged. The girls especially, he loved that look of despair when they awoke in the box. Sometimes, Pieto wondered if that's what it was like to be a Mage. "Heeheehee," he chuckled. “Shaa…Shaa... Shaa…” Something chuckled beside Pieto. The bouncer's fingers froze just as they were about to venture further. He could feel it now: a dense presence hovering over his right shoulder. In slow and measuredly movements, he turned to face his watcher. His new companion was a strange and alien thing, composed entirely of glass. Its smooth head was semi-transparent, radiating an alien and exotic elegance. “H…he… hello?” Pieto couldn’t think of anything else to say. How would one answer an otherworld horror anyhow? The creature must have understood him, however, for Pieto watched with paralytic fascination as the glass began to split three-way. From within the carapace emerged an engorged black-purple head with a lamprey’s lips, drooling grey goo. There was a blur of darkness; then a barbed tongue shot into Pieto’s open mouth. He screamed, half choking. Caliban screamed with him. The basement and its cargo of desperate souls screamed and screamed.

_'Ban, 'Ban, Ca-Caliban_ _Has a new master. Her name is Gwen!'_ Caliban had yet to develop a fully formed sentence, so it wasn't entirely sure why it was singing that particular song. It had learned it from Master's memory when it was named. There was a rhythmic quality to it that Caliban enjoyed, though the words held no particular meaning in its elemental distilled mind. It also didn't know why it was freed from its Master's pocket dimension. Every other time its Master had set it free, it had been shackled to her will, unable to do as it pleased. This time, she had been so generous with her life-force that it had materialised, fully untethered. When Caliban had landed wetly behind some creature, it knew instinctively that the being had hostile designs upon its Master. It also knew that if its Master perished, Caliban would also cease to be. As a thing born of the Void, it rather liked manifesting in the Material Plane. There was light, sound, and the company of others full of delicious vitality. Even its annoying brother that Master constantly conjured was better company than the cold dark slumber of eternity. It hovered over the ape, wondering what it should do. Curiosity was a new emotion that it had only learned recently, though Caliban immediately put it to good use. Was the creature tasty? How much of Caliban’s belly could it fill? Did it possess fortifying mana? To Caliban's surprise, the creature turned from trying to touch its Master and instead looked at Caliban. Its eyes shorn wetly, deliciously. The beast opened its mouth, and Caliban shot one of its barbed tongues into it, piercing its throat. The thing then started screaming, a blood-curdling scream. Caliban had no blood though, only hateful ichor, so it screamed with it. They were singing! It was like a chorus. Not so different from Master’s song. 'Ban, 'Ban, Ca-Caliban!' The creature then tried to grab Caliban, but its fingers were weak, sliding off the slimy film that covered Caliban's exoskeleton, consumed by its Void energies. Caliban then expanded its lamprey's maw and took within its mouth the head of his assailant. There was a crunch, a sound of grinding bone. Yuck! Caliban did not like this thing at all. There was no yum in it. It barely gave Caliban any vitality. Simultaneously, Caliban could feel that its master was desperately in need of more life-force. Master was generous this time and had given Caliban too much. "Shaa!" Caliban puffed out its carapaced chest, its joints flexing proudly. It would provide its Master with the life she needed. After all, hadn't Master taken Caliban from the dark and given it a material form? Caliban wasn't useless like the rat-snake. It would be her favourite; then she could bring Caliban into the Material world every day. With renewed determination and direction, Caliban slithered from the chamber, boring a hole through the iron door in an instant. There were others like the man-creature in the other rooms. It could taste their mana, delicious motes of elements in blue and red and green and yellow. Delicious mana, good for Caliban, good for Master! Gwen's slithering nightmare pushed through the oxidised metal sheeting with the ease of an eel in silt. There was another man-creature in there. No, not a man. A woman! A Mage like Master! It could smell the delicious mana seeping from her body. She was looking at him with her mouth wide apart, making a sound which greatly pleased Caliban. The female’s voices had a higher pitch, and Caliban liked the manner in which the screams vibrated its carapace. It moved towards her, miming her open mouth, its maw echoing her high pitched scream, then began its second meal. Food! Good for Caliban! Food for Gwen! Henry Kilroy, Master of the Ten, Lord of Oceania's Towers, jolted from mead-mulled sleep to full wakefulness the moment Gwen's ring disconnected from her finger. "Sufina!" he commanded. The dryad materialised beside him. They were in the Dryad's Grot, a place where the passage of time was as ponderous as the march of an oaken forest. "Master, what's wrong?" Sufina said worryingly. "It's Gwen; she's no longer in possession of her Contingency Ring. What the hell is Mark doing? He told me he’d be taking care of her!" Sufina's face grew worried. "Was it unwise to send Gwen to Master Chandler after all? There is history between the two of you, after all, and not all of was is pleasant." 'History,' the word hammered at Henry's chest. History, yes, but also two decades of working together, surviving together, saving one another countless number of times. If that wasn't enough history to trust a man, what was? “Not now..." Henry raised a hand weakly. "I know you are not fond of 'Mac'-" "I am fond of Gwen," Sufina complained defiantly. "Can we leave the Grot?" Sufina shook her head, sending out a flurry of autumn leaves. "No, you're not strong enough.” Henry sighed. “Where’s Gunther?" "He should be at the Militia committee meeting today." Henry invoked Gunther's Message glyph. His Apprentice answered his Master's call immediately. "Gunther, someone has taken Gwen. I am sending you her last location." "Yes, Lord Magister," Gunther returned, using Henry’s officious moniker in public. "I fear you will be teleporting in blind. It's in Blackheath." “Not a problem Sir. How would you like this resolved?" Henry felt his teeth clench. Had Mark betrayed him? Was Gwen in danger? There were too many unknowns. His first instinct was to annihilate whatever had laid hands on his student, but he knew better than to deviate from the middle path, it was his Credo after all, what his Faction held sacred. Power and accountability, temptation and temperance, it was a precarious balance. Thinking of Gwen, Henry took a deep breath, trying to stifle the violent emotions welling in his chest. "As you will," Henry said at last. Gunther would do what was right. He always did. "Sir." Gunther's iron voice came from the Gylph. "I have Paul is with me; it will take some time to set up the long-range teleportation circle." "Make haste, and keep her safe, Gunther." "I will. Gunther out." The glyph faded. Henry willed another Message Glyph to flare into activity. "Henry..." the distinctive voice of Mark Chandler came from the other side. "Mark... you better have some answers for me..." Bozza smelled the blood before they even heard the screams. Violence, particular ultraviolence, possessed a distinct, metallic tang which filled the air. It was different from the scent of an animal abattoir. There was a texture to it, a kind of congealed resonance that shook the very soul of the observer, triggering a conditioned response ingrained within the marrows of the mind, etched into the bone from a time when men were fodder for the beasts. Bozza turned to look at the Enforcer. He was shaking - shaking! Together, they had taken down scores of Mages; enslaved hundreds more! But never once had Bozza seen the Enforcer show any reaction other than pleasure in his work. "Wha... what's wrong?” “There's... something down there... the mana, its full of hunger. I can't tell what it is. Never felt anything like it before." They looked at the stairs leading down to the basement. "Aarrrrrrgh!- Shaaaa!" Suddenly, another shriek. Not the first and certainly not the last, the only difference was it sounded closer, more distinct. But hadn't been a single cry, but two! The first scream was a shriek, raw and primordial, thick with fear and terror. This second filled with insanity and hysteria, a mocking, inhuman scream that went on and on and on without ceasing. It was like - a duet? What being could utter such a sound? Booza and the Enforcer regarded one another. We should flee - that was their first thought. But then they had another moment to gather their wits. Was that an option? They could escape with the merchandise. That was acceptable, even commendable, but run away with nothing? To confess when placed under the geas of True Word that they bolted without knowing why? That was suicide. "I am afraid..." the Enforcer swallowed. "That I am not much use in a straight up fight so... ladies first?" Bozza's wounded organs tie into a painful knot. Her companion was right; she had to go first. As a water Transmuter, taking damage was her job. "Body of Water!" "Crest Shield!" "Enhanced Constitution!" Bozza buffed herself against the physical and the elemental. Whatever was down there, it would have to chew through a persistent, self-regenerating barrier, her Body of Water, and her body. Even if the Lightning sorceress was awake, she could still fend her off for a few moments, enough for the Enforcer to do his worst. Gingerly, the two arrived at the basement. The stench of blood was thicker here, almost physically assailing the senses. The hair on their heads stood ramrod straight, if their follicles had a voice, they would be screaming. The place was pitch black. Something had taken the emitter globes. "Faery Light!" The Enforcer waved a hand. Four glowing candles flew into the dark chamber. There was a sound of liquid dripping and seeping somewhere. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. One of the lights floated toward the door closest to the stairs. There was a round hole where a grate would be. An utterly smooth orifice that looked as though it was cleanly cut. A thick, viscous slime that was grey and semi-transparent lingered at the point of entry. Bozza produced a set of keys, the mental jangling loudly in the silence. There had been a tier 2 Earth Evoker in the chamber. Now there was a mess of flesh that vaguely resembled a man. Bozza looked away. She wasn't cut out to deal with this. Bozza was a slaver and a trader; her job was to feed the Blue to her merchandise, then watch them descend into insensibility. She wasn't a butcher, but that the scene in front of her only be described as butchery. The Enforcer did not look away. He had seen this before, in the war. He had been in the Brisbane Line, a tide of saurian creatures poured from the rainforest, overrunning their position in a matter of hours. He watched a beast, a grotesquely muscular, vaguely humanoid goanna - a big red Lizardman, tear a fellow soldier in half. The snapping of ligaments, the rendering of muscles, the blood wrung out like a wet rag - this scene was terrible, but he’d seen worse. "The brain. The heart. The liver..." The Enforcer said quietly, taking note of what was missing. The observation made Bozza shiver uncontrollably. "Whatever had been here, was after the mana organs." Humans didn't have Creature Cores, though it was long theorised that certain parts of the body held the secret to man's ability to channelling astral forces. The duo steeled their spine, persisting down the corridor. It was the same in every room. Headless bodies with fleshy holes bored through their torsos. Finally, they reached the main room, the prep room. A mountainous carcass blocked their entry. It was headless. "Fuck`n oath... Pieto..." Bozza choked. "He'd been with me for four years... poor sod..." The lights drifted within. They saw the Lightning girl. She was bound and gagged, the leather tying her into a position that made spellcasting impossible. Her face was deadly pale, sunken in fact, looking as though she was on the verge of wasting away. "Why's this one alright?" Bozza asked suspiciously. The Enforcer moved into the room and tested the straps, lifting Gwen a little before letting her fall with a thump. "She's still out cold. Straps are perfect." He observed. "She's very weak though. What the hell happened." "If not her, where the fuck did that thing come from then?" The Enforcer exhaled. "Who knows," he replied. "Although we both know that if we lose this merchandise, we're both dead Mage walk-" "Aeeerrrrgh! NO! AEEeeee-" There was a scream, suddenly cut short. It came from above. "Fuck, its gone upstairs!" Bozza cursed, running for the stairs. The Enforcer took another look at Gwen. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he slapped her across the face. The girl remained unmoving, wholly unconscious. Her bloodless dermis began to welt with a five-fingered print. The Enforcer looked at Bozza moving up the stairs, then quickly followed. "You did WHAT!" Henry was screaming into to glyph now. His chest rose and fell painfully. Sufina had to lay a hand against her Master's back, transfusing a steady stream of her life-force. "You did say to send her into the lion's den," Mark's voice replied calmly. "If she couldn't make it through even that, maybe she wasn't cut out to be your hopes and dreams." "You know very well what I meant, Mark! Y-you! How could you?" "It was the choice you made for us back in the day no? Why the hypocrisy?" "How is that the same? We were at war! At WAR Mark!" "Then where is Lizzy now? Where’s my sister Jane?” Mark's voice also rose. "If you're going to be such a mollycoddler, then why the tests? Just keep her fed in your Tower! Give her a scholarship! Marry her off to your peerless Apprentice! Who dares challenge the ageless Magister Kilroy and his wunderkind Paladin?" "Mark... Mark you..." Henry could hardly breathe for all the red he was seeing. Sufina gave him another jolt to ease his heaving chest. "Fine, you wanted to talk? We'll talk. I am coming for you, and I am bringing Surya. Go get Agnes; we're going to put this demon behind us once and for all." "I eagerly await your austere presence," Mark remarked dryly, then the light of his glyph died. "Gunther... I am relying on you..." Henry said to no one in particular. Old demons, the Magister breathed out, a hand moving to his chest. The sins of yesterday, coming home to roost. "It's a demon! Run for your lives!” Fifty-odd kilometres away from Sydney Tower, absolute anarchy and chaos had erupted in the abode of the local flesh trader. A creature had emerged out of nowhere, and it was now staring down Nikau, tasting him with its flailing tentacles. They said that before one’s imminent death, life flashed before one's eyes. But all Nikau could recall was the memorable events of today. At first, it had been a day like any other. Runners looked for newly minted Mages in the area they were assigned to, speaking to families with children, offering them food, money, and crystals, if that was what they desired. The NoMs here were poor, docile and compliant, which made his job easier. Occasionally, a runner came back with the news that a family refused to give up their kin. That wasn't too unusual either, and Bozza merely had to send him or Pieto out with a stern message and the problem was solved. If a NoM family had a rare awakening, Bozza was generous with compensation. An extra mouth to feed becoming a windfall of wealth for years to come was always welcomed. It was charity, now that Nikau thought about it; they were doing good for the local community. How many families had they saved that way? How many younger siblings, NoMs, survived, thanks to the sacrifice of a single would-be Mage? Then the day got complicated. A girl came into the shop, dressed to the nines. She was more lovely than anything Nikau had ever seen. God knows Pieto was smitten, the guy's eyes were falling out of their sockets. A runner, Tonna, had brought the girl. Like everyone else, Nikau had assumed she was a buyer, or an agent representing someone they couldn't refuse. She wasn't, as it turned out, but Nikau wasn't here to think. They had watched the boss chat the girl up, all friendly. Nikau especially liked the girl's attire. It was expensive looking, of course, but elegant. Her white legs emerged from the navy dress like a dream. Nikau liked that, he liked beautiful looking girls. They were a rare treat. Sometimes he wondered if he could ever meet a girl like that. Not one of the merchandise, no. A real girl, someone tall and slim, with a heart-shaped face and long dark hair. He could take her out on dates when Bozza was kind and gave him days off. They could take the train to the city, see the harbour. He had heard it was beautiful out there, that you could see the Shield Wall shimmering at night against the waters like long white fingers. At midnight, the girl would place her head upon his broad chest, and he could smell her hair, which would be like flowers. She would cross her white legs over his lap and peck him shyly on the cheek. That was the dream. Nikau had always felt that he was different from the people here. He wasn't like Pieto, who wanted his girls kicking and screaming. He wasn't like Bozza either, who saw the kid Mages as meat and merchandise. He felt more akin to the Enforcer. They had spoken once, and the cowled Mage had told him always to remember that he was doing a job. Nikau liked that. Yep, Nikau was a contractor doing a job. He was working hard so that one day, he would have a girl of his own, and they could see the harbour. The bloody, chomping maw came closer to his face. Well, sugar! Nikau thought sadly to himself. A girl hadn't ever kissed him. Caliban was extremely pleased with itself. It felt happier than any eldritch horror ever spawned from the Plane of whimpering death and eternal darkness. Having finished its allotment of flesh downstairs, it found a service pipe and made its way upstairs. There were scant Mages up here, but the lack of quality was made up by quantity! Unlike the ones below, these were lively! Its prey scattered this way and that, causing Caliban to exert real effort to catch them! With each being it devoured, Caliban sent a jolt of vitality into its Master. He could even feel her stirring now, sensing her Astral Body filling with the stuff of life itself! She would be boundlessly pleased when she'd seen what it had done for her. Then, just when it had thought all the best morsels were gone. It found another. As it slithered closer though, it realised that the figure looked familiar. It knew this Mage! Master was speaking to it earlier, trying to help it! It couldn't possibly eat this female. Caliban wasn't a scholarly creature, but it had its smarts! It retreated, and in the adjacent room found another creature, a Mage! This one had fought its Master earlier, delicious! Caliban prey began to scream, even though it was damaged and weak. Oh well, Caliban allowed its hunger to take over, now was not the time to be picky. Gwen woke in the shivering dark, stirred to consciousness by a sudden sense of vitality that filled her body. She tried to move, but a strap tied together her arms and legs. There was an immediate sense of panic, but her mind cooled when she acknowledged, gladly, that unlike Stacey, she remained fully clothed. Her surroundings were dark, pitch black. There was the sound of something dripping into the drain below. Slowly, she took account of her surroundings. She was on a metal table, and the iron had warmed up to her body, meaning she had been here for some time. Internally, there was a sense of emptiness, but also a strange fullness. The paradoxical sensation made Gwen turn inward, instantly realising with horror that Caliban was gone. Ariel was still in her pocket dimension, but Caliban's was empty. She frantically tried to establish a telepathic link, but it was weak and untethered. She would have to see Caliban directly to command it and reestablish her Empathic Link. Gwen tried to move again, but the leather around her hands and ankles pulled against her throat. Calm - Calm yourself, don't panic, Gwen repeated the word like a mantra, your sister-in-craft, Alesia, had trained you to escape from confinements. Very carefully, she willed her void energy to materialise upon her hands via the conduit of her Conjuration Sigil. She forced the motes to move down to her arm painfully, feeling the leather bindings came loose like rotten rags. Then, quietly and carefully, she tore at the binding on her feet and neck, shredding them like paper. Interestingly, though she had expected fatigue from the Void, she strangely felt no discomfort. After checking her clothes, she moved from the steel table, landing wetly in a puddle of what smelled like old iron. Blood. It was blood. Gwen knew because she had smelt it when Edgar's limbs came off. "Flare." A bright glow suffused the room. Gwen looked down. If she had prepared, she probably would have weathered it better. Instead, she vomited over Pieto's headless body. Jesus. Her heart sink. She wished she didn't know what had happened here, but she did. There could only be one reason Pieto would be missing a head. She rushed from the room. There was the sound of chaotic commotion coming from above. Gwen clacked through the concrete, tapping the floor loudly, trying her best not to peek. There were holes in all the doors of the other cells. The pit of her stomach dropped. "Nikau! Fuck, it got Nikau!" Bozza felt as though she was going insane. They had finally caught the creature redhanded coming out of the secondary preparation room on the first floor. The Enforcer had guessed that it was after Mages, and there were two Mages on the first floor, the Initiate and the Cantwell girl. When they blasted open the door, the thing was chewing on poor Nikau's head. It was hideous, more terrifying than anything Bozza had seen in textbooks. It was snake-like with a bulbous, purple head from which several tentacles protruded, each ringed with sharp white teeth. "Water bolt!" "Magic Missile!" Both Bozza and the Enforcer had fired off projectiles against the thing, sending it reeling. It had shrieked in pain, then fled for the atrium. They followed it, triggering a game of cat and mouse. They had finally cornered it in the ruins of the atrium when it's carapace further expanded, doubling it in size, now becoming a pulsating mass of writhing purple flesh, a worm fully the height of a grown man. It shot barbed tentacles toward them, but with enough water pressure, Bozza could manage to keep both herself and the Enforcer Shielded. "Caliban! Stop!" To their surprise, the Lightning girl emerged from the basement corridor. She was dishevelled, but otherwise looked perfectly healthy, nothing like what they had seen in the basement prior. "Caliban! Heel!" Instantly, the creature shrunk. then sat happily wagging its tail. "You fucking bitch! That thing WAS yours!" Bozza's entire world grew red with rage. That devious little whore! Pieto! Nikau! Her base! All her work! Her Life! She gathered all her remaining mana for an alpha strike. "No!" The Enforcer had kept his cool. He body-slammed Bozza, disrupting her spell. If the girl was indeed the summoner of that thing, he could hardly imagine the boon that awaited them. If their Master got their hands on her, he would no longer be an Enforcer, and Bozza would no longer be an Associate. They would be well within the Inner Circle! "Phantasmal Killer!" This time, the Enforcer pumped more than half of his remaining mana into the illusory attack. From what he had seen, the girl had issues, significant issues. She had been very susceptible to his last spell. With only half an hour between now and then, his new Illusion should be even more effective. He watched as the spell hit. The girl's body suddenly grew rigid; her horrific ophidian instantly de-materialised. It was hers! His heart pounded. Holy shit! A dual-Element, dual-School Magus at her age? With those looks? He was going places now. Fuck this base; he was going to be a member of the Lord's retinue after this. As the spell took hold, the girl collapsed onto the floor once more. Bozza recovered from her fall, but her flash of anger quickly turned to clarity and gratitude. She was a smart woman. They worked well together. "Fuck me, that was close," she apologised. "Thanks." The Enforcer's heart almost burst in that final moment, but now everything was alright. "This place is gone," he observed. "Let's get the girl and move out now..." "Alright, we..." 'WHOMP!' Suddenly, something caught the air. There was a flash of radiance, a sudden tear in space and time in the middle of the Atrium. The two watched with open mouths as a Teleportation Array manifested itself instantly upon the debris-strewn floor. A Demigod materialised in the middle of the array, filling the room with radiance, dispelling all shadow. The deified being's cold blue eyes scanned his demesne, master of all he surveyed. He saw his sister-in-craft collapsed by the corridor to the basement: her dress torn, her bare legs soiled, her hair a mess. His brows furrowed. The temperature in the room flared. Bozza and the Enforcer's hearts stopped. "Which one of you is responsible for this?" A calm voice spoke as would the Sun God Apollo. "Prostrate yourselves and surrender, or die."

Farez Hamid recognised the intruder. Farez had been just a Militiamen then, an up and coming Illusionist with an affinity for Air with a freshly pressed commendation for his mastery of misdirection. He distinctly recalled it was during Second Seige of the Brisbane Line that he first heard the name of Gunther von Shultz. With the rest of the fresh meat, he was being hauled across the sound when a Dragon Turtle struck their barge. The problem was that most of the Junior Mages couldn't fly, Farez included. The ship rocked, and the novices had flung ineffective spells at the hateful creature. All seemed lost - until a blast of heavenly light pierced the clouds, a God-ray that burned the air turned the sea to steam. Where it had struck the beast, its scales melted and boiled. The Dragon Turtle had returned breath-attack, but a secondary blast took its head clean off, a tier 7 monstrosity - just like that. The recruits never saw who had saved them, but Farez was later informed that it was Gunther von Shultz. During those days, Shultz and de Botton were the big names on the Front. The first was an invincible superman, a Wing Commander at the age of twenty-five. The second was renowned for her ruthless violence, making Flight Lieutenant at the tender age of fifteen. They had both excelled in the taking of Portsea, racking up a quad-digit kill-count through fire and gore. Upon their return, Shultz engaged a propaganda tour, and that was when Farez met his saviour. The Illusionist had never beheld a man so magnificent. Gunther was radiance personified, like Apollo in a human body. Farez had screamed his lungs out with the best of them. To think that such a man was fighting on their behalf! To be bathed in the light of such a personage, a man who had carved out a victory in blood and brimstone, was the closest he ever felt to God. When Gunther had finally reached his squad, Farez reached out. He touched him! Farez touched Gunther von Shultz! He was so happy he could have cried! Then to his shock, Gunther stopped. The Demigod turned his gaze upon Farez with the warmest, most understanding blue eyes Farez had ever beheld in his life. "Thank you for your service, Warrant Officer... Farez Hamid." He knew his name! Gunther von Shultz knew his name! As the man left, Farez had wept. His friends had made fun of him, mirthfully punched him in the ribs. They didn't know, Farez laughed internally. They couldn't understand what it was like to touch that radiance. That's motherfucking Gunther Shultz! Farez's bulging eyes almost escaped their sunken sockets. What the fuck is Gunther von Shultz doing here? Was it for the girl? Oh. Shit. The thought resounded in Farez's head like a gong. The Teleportation Circle had faded by now. All Farez and Booza could behold was the godly visage of Sydney Tower's Paladin striding towards them like a fabled colossus. "Do you yield?" The question was entirely rhetorical. Had Farez not endured years of anti-glamour training, he would have knelt right there and wept like a child. He saw Bozza fall to one knee, her eyes brimming with tears, and knew it was over before it began. It was radiance. There was something in Gunther's aura! Was it an Enchantment or an Illusion? He saw the Geas embedded in Bozza activate. Like him, she could only serve a single Master, incapable of yielding even if she wanted to. At once her head cleared. "Fuck! What the hell was that?" Bozza shouted. She needn't have, there was no other sound in the room, but somehow, it felt like they were in a maelstrom. "We're about to meet our maker," Farez intoned rather objectively. "Hey Boz, I want to tell you something." "Is this the right time?" Bozza kept shouting, trying to Shield her eyes from the radiance. "We should be attacking the prick!" "My name is Farez Hamid," he said. Bozza gazed at Farez with a face full of incomprehension. "What are you..." Bozza began, but she was cut off by Farez's next spell. "Phantasmal Force!" The Illusionist forced the spell to manifest with a bestial howl, pushing all of his remaining mana into its invocation. A dozen phantom soldiers appeared from every direction to strike Gunther. It was Farez's most potent spell. It was also useless, he knew, but he had to try. Gunther didn't even move. The Radiance around him shimmered. Without warning, holes appeared in every phantom that assailed him. There wasn't even a beam or a projectile; it was as if his soldiers were perforated all along. Farez didn't have to wait for Gunther's retribution. He hadn't even finished his gesticulation when he felt a sudden lightness. He watched, almost in slow motion, his limbs fall away, the wounds cauterised and clean. He landed on the ground as a human stump, bereft of his bodily appendages. Bozza's eyes stared in disbelief. Farez was the Enforcer! He was a Tier 5 Senior Mage! Who was this man they were facing? Were they fighting a God? A Sun God? Farez watched as Bozza turn to summon a shield, maybe trying to protect herself; perhaps trying to save him. It didn't matter. Her Shield disappeared in the next second. Her Body of Water didn't matter either. Her skin sizzled, and in the next instant, she was also bereft of limbs. "I have questions for you. Later," Gunther stated mildly, then left to inspect the girl by the door. He left! Farez snorted painfully. He wasn't even worth a moment of Gunther's time! From the floor, he regarded Bozza, who was weeping now. She was a strong woman, but she finally understood. In front of real power, they were just worms. "Hey Boz," Farez called out to Bozza, whose eyes met his, wet with agony and despair. "What's my name?" "Hamid. Farez." She said between gasps of air. "Thanks, Boz..." Farez replied, then waited quietly for the inevitable. Gunther left the two assailants incapacitated. Between the loss of their limbs and the mental shock, they were capable of neither magic or escape. He looked around the place, took in the surroundings, and felt a fit of monstrous anger. Master Henry had made a terrible mistake in trusting Mark Chandler. He walked over to where Gwen lay, picked her up from the floor, and wiped the debris from her limbs and her dress. The girl was having a nightmare; her eyes were fluttering, her ocular muscles spasming. "Gwen, wake up," he intoned gently. His voice was radiance, full of texture and temperature. Warmth suffused Gwen's head, undoing the Phantasmal illusion. His sister-in-craft's hazel eyes shot open. Gwen found herself in Gunther's arms, her white face refracted against his blue orbs. Her clothes were dishevelled, but she was warm and safe, it was over. "I..." Gwen wailed weakly. "Gunther... I did it... I killed them all!" Her breath caught in her throat, her face turned scarlet. "So... so much blood Gunther... how... who'd thought there be so much blood in them?" "It's okay," Gunther coddled her. "You did well." There was a warning in his voice that made Gwen tense, filling her body with adrenaline. She was a sensitive soul, and she knew the feeling of the calm before the storm. Gunther ushered a jolt of Radiant mana into his aura, silently activating a passive calming effect. The girl's shivering grew weaker until it ceased. "Gwen, I need you to see this," Gunther spoke to her softly. "Can you stand?" "Yes... Sorry. There's something in the basement you need to see, brother," Gwen urged her senior sibling. Gunther was glad that Gwen seemed considerably more in control of her faculties. She was going to need it for what came next. "That's not important," he assured her. "This is." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Gunther walked Gwen towards Bozza and Farez, two torsos lying on the dusty floor. "I need to ask you some questions, and you will answer them truthfully," Gunther spoke in a voice that was measured and kind. Not at all the tone of a man who had taken off eight limbs in the blink of an eye. He did not wait for the slavers to affirm his demand. "You, Illusionist," Gunther began. "Who do you work for?" "Don't know." Suddenly, Farez's skin began to sizzle. "Who do you work for?" "I... argh! I ... oh God! Arrrrgh!!!" "Who do you work for?" "I can't! I can't!" The smell of burning flesh filled the air. "Hmmph," Gunther grunted. "A Geas. Fine. What were you going to do to Gwen?" "Sell her." Farez gasped. Gwen shuddered. "Listen carefully, Gwen," Gunther commanded. "This is the answer you are looking for. What happens to those who get sold?" "Rituals... training..." "Hmmph!" "Arrgh! O, Gods! Oh, oh, oh!" There was now the smell of crisping fat. "Breeding! For breeding! Or sacrifices! Or experiments! We take the heart blood! We extract their organs! They're Mage stock! Oh please! I can't say more! Just kill me! Just kill me, Commander Shultz!" Gwen blanched. Breeding. The man had said. Rituals. She wanted to hurl and vomit, but the contents of her stomach had been spent. Gunther on the other hand, blinked when the man said his name. "Are we acquainted?" "I saw you once..." Farez was hardly recognisable now, just a lump of ruinous flesh. "It was.. it was at the parade in 86'... you said my name... we shook..." Gunther searched through his memory. "Sergeant... Jones? No - Officer Hamid? I am sorry to see you in this state." "Ha... ha ... you don't know the half of it! There's nothing more I can say... Commander, a request before I die?" Gunther furrowed his brows. "What do you need, Hamid?" "Bozza, the woman next to me. She too is under Geas. Please- give her a clean death. Not like me. She didn't see the war. She's not built like we are." Farez's voice was stronger now, louder, kept up only by adrenaline. "The other girl... Cantwell, she survived. She's in the second room. The monster, it spared her, please..." His voice grew faint. "Peace be with you, Farez." "I am sorry..." "I am too, Sergeant Hamid," Gunther intoned grimly. "More than you know." He left Gwen standing alone, then returned momentarily with Stacey. The girl remained groggy and out of her mind, unaware that she had escaped death more than once. She mumbled something incoherent, and Gunther could smell the Blue that lingered on her breath, that acrid scent which permeated her body and ate into her flesh. It was too late for the girl. Those who awakened late seldom received the necessary talent or training to be competent. The Tower would be hard pressed to dedicate the resources required to restore this girl to normalcy. Not even Agnes had the means to fight off the lingering effects of such a deeply set addiction. He wondered if the girl could be used as a lesson in mercy for Gwen, but decided against it. Gwen was not ready. She had another lesson to learn first. "Gwen." Gunther turned to his sister-in-craft. He saw her body seize, a deer caught before Dancing Lights. She must have realised what he was about to ask. "Gunther..." Gwen's breath quickened, he could feel her heart pounding against her breast. "Gunther, I can't... that's a man, Gunther! That's a human being!" "Finish him." "Gunther, he is defenceless! I don't even know why you're torturing him; there are... spells for interrogation... for truth..." "They were going to sell you, Gwen. Use you for spare parts! Do you understand what that means? At best, you would be strapped to a ritual table and have your brain, your heart and your liver extracted. At worst..." "Oh...Oh... " Gwen was hyperventilating now. "Finish it, Sister!" He placed a hand on her shoulder; his voice grew sonorous. "Do it now." Gwen choked and sobbed, her hands trembling. At Gunther's behest, she allowed the spell to manifest in her mind. She was uttering the words before she knew it, wondering if this was what she wanted. The man was a mess of charred and boiled flesh. It was mercy. "Lighting Bolt!" A flash of plasma enveloped Farez. The man laid still. "I am afraid I won't be able to keep that promise, Sergeant Hamid. I have a use for your companion," Gunther replied regretfully to the corpse. "I hope you make better choices in your next life." A beam of light struck Farez. His corpse blazed for a few bright seconds before turning to ash; another glance from Gunther and his fallen limbs cremated as well. Two rings and an amulet dropped to the floor. Gunther retrieved them before turning to Bozza. "Please..." She sobbed uncontrollably, "I can't tell you anything." Gunther regarded Gwen's face, now numb with shock. The girl likely had always thought death clean, not obscene. As for Gwen, she was having an out-of-body experience. With her Familiar, there was at least an abstract quality to it, the bundles of stuff that dropped here and there, the carnage of it was too violent to be real. "Finish what you have begun." "No, Gunther, I can't do it again..." "You must. It is your duty. Bozza was dead the moment you chose to walk into her den. Do you understand that?" Gwen stared at Gunther; conflict etched all over her face. "This is also a part of the Credo, the one you so thoughtlessly flaunted before Master. You said that you would harry the foxes, frighten the wolves, and slaughter the tigers that barred your way! You wanted to fear no vengeance! Here is where you do it, Gwen! Open your eyes!" He watched the girl's laboured breathing, observing her struggle against hysteria. "You do, don't you?" The question was rhetorical. Her reaction validated his suspicion that Gwen was different. He had told Alesia just that when she'd asked what he thought of their little sister-in-craft. The girl was too mature, improbably thoughtful. As far as he knew, Gwen had a torturous upbringing under a malevolent mother, an apathetic father, and the threat of a talented brother. She had never lived in a Tier 1 city. Frontier folk like her lived under the constant assumption that life was scant and temporal. The way Gwen reacted to her surroundings, the training and killing - it was like she had grown up in a walled garden, a place without violence or bloodshed. He wasn't sure why, nor did he care. What he did need was for her to stop behaving like a petulant child. Her naivety was suicide. She would have to learn, fast. "Do it," Gunther commanded, dropping another sliver of mana into Radiant Command. 'Crack!' Another lightning bolt. Bozza screamed. "Again." Another. Bozza was stronger than she looked. Fool! Gwen grunted. The girl was resisting, pulling her punches. She was now both stupid and cruel. He had only empowered his words with suggestions; perhaps he should enforce the command? No. That would be beside the point. "Where's your mercy, Gwen? Do you find joy in her suffering?" He could see the girl trying her best to rationalise her resistance. "The dead, Gunther! Those bodies: don't they pluck out your eyes?! I can't... we can't do this... We can't wash our hands with excuses! The blood of our victims will dye the emerald sea incarnadine! Blood will have blood! To murder a human being- The dead will have their day!" Words. Gunther felt even his own stoic, immovable soul shaken and stirred. Gwen had a way with words. Master liked that about her. Words have power, whether they be incantation or wisdom. Was she right? Gunther knew her words were didactic, but her sentiments were sophistry, the cawing of a mewling girl. Mastery Henry was a man of words, but Gunther and Alesia's baptism had been one of action. He did not like Gwen. No. She was talented, but she was also naive, stupid, suicidal. A Mage of Gwen's potential was a terrible temptation for the wolves: only violence would keep her safe. Kindness? Compassion? She would drown in it. "These people had designs upon you, Gwen, whether you will or no. The mere fact that you appeared in their lives had sealed their fate. Either you were bound and sold like chattel, and they burned - or you survived, grew stronger for your troubles, and they burned. They were dead the moment you walked in! Did you think this was going to end amicably? That they were going to be imprisoned?" He watched the battle unfold over her tortured face. Finally, their eyes met. "Do it!" "Lightning Blast!" Gunther needn't command her this time; the choice was hers. He watched her pour wave after wave of mana into the channelled spell. There was very little of Bozza left when the light had cleared. Another blast of cremating flames from him cleared any signs that Bozza had ever existed, save for a single Storage Ring. "Good work." Gunther pressed Gwen's wilting body against his chest, feeling the beat of her heart against his own. "You must always remember this feeling. What must you do?" "Finish what I had begun." "Repeat it." "Finish what I had begun." Gunther picked up Bozza's ring. "Good girl. Let's go and see our Master. Somebody must pay for what has happened here." "What of the bodies, Gunther?" Gwen asked. "There... there are so many of them..." "Hmmph..." Gunther closed his eyes for a moment. Gwen felt a sudden rise in the temperature. The walls around them combust into flames. The whole building was on fire. Her brother's flame was not the fire of the mortal realm, but destruction wrung from the Elemental Planes, the very stuff stolen from the Gods themselves. Gunther's was a cleansing blaze that would wipe all sin from Gwen's blighted land. Gwen watched the world burn. When she had realised what Caliban had done, her first thought was to lock herself up in a deep dark cave and never emerge back into the world of men. Perhaps she would leave the city, travel into the Wildlands? She could live amongst the savage races of the stone-formed Goblins and the malignant Orcs. Then, when she came closer to the atrium, she felt the telepathic link between her and Caliban re-establish. Oh, what visions flooded her mind! It was as if she was Caliban itself, striking into her victims with unadulterated joy, boring through their screaming chests and emerging with mouthfuls of warm flesh! She felt an orgasmic jolt of vitality fed into her, replenishing what Caliban had taken. She felt satiated, satisfied. But it was not like the satiation offered by a hearty meal. It was the satisfaction of something ancient, something dark, something that was devouring and eating a millennia before men discovered the first mote of mana. It was a primal hunger, a gibbering bestial joy! Caliban had fed on others, but Gwen fed on Caliban. She supped via her Familiar, more and more hungrily! Less and less sufficient! Hungry! Caliban had cried out, and now Gwen, who had once contented with mortal food, now desired the hearts of men. No! Gwen scalded herself, No! She cannot lose herself to this thing! She would not let Caliban override her ego, assume her animus! Heel! She cried out. Caliban! HEEL! She hadn't resisted the Phantasmal Killer when it struck her mind. She welcomed the darkness, a respite from the hunger brought by wayward Caliban. She shunted the slithering Void beast into its planar cage. The wormling was hers and hers alone; she gave it purpose and existence, and she would not lose control of it ever again. Then she was out like a light, And when her sanity returned, she was murdering her first human being face-to-face. "Do it now!" He told her. Gunther pried open her eyes and Gwen could see the truth hidden in the winding dark. She had nowhere else to hide. Attached to her wrist, her hand had felt like a stranger's, an alien appendage distended from her body. "They were dead the moment you appeared in their lives! Did you think this was going to end amicably?" Gwen knew now she was wrong, but she had hoped. She was going to defeat them - but she wasn't going be there for the aftermath. That had been her naivety. She was going to save the girl, and that was the end of it. Was it meant to be more complicated than that? Or was it as Gunther had said, that nothing would ever be so simple. But Gunther was right. There comes a time when an individual must take account of their own choices. Assume their own stories. She raised a hand toward the whimpering slaver. The old Gwen is dead. Long live Gwen, murderer, her hands smeared in the snail-sheen fat of slaughter; for all the perfumes of Arabia will never sweeten her fingers again.

For the fifth time, Agnes had to intervene, preventing Henry and Mark from saying something that neither of them could take back. At first, Surya had aided her, but after Mark accusing his granddaughter of being a Void-tainted Calamity, the old Enchanter became firmly entrenched with team Kilroy. Had there always been this much vitriol hidden beneath it all? Agnes wondered if all these years she had known her friends at all. In her mind, no displacement could change the fact that they were companions, comrades, mutual survivors. With Surya, she had kept in contact often, meeting for luncheons now and then. Henry was too busy managing the controlled-chaos of the Tower, but he made an effort. Mark ran his own Agency two doors down, sharing a working-relationship with Agnes, who fed him information and the latest news from her contacts and clients. When Henry called them all to meet at Mark’s cafe, Agnes had no idea that the friction between him and Mark had escalated to such a boiling point. That was as clear as pure mana when she walked into the loft of Mark’s terrace. Mages, particular at the level of Magus and Magisters, exerted an arcane pressure with their abundance of mana; walking into that room was like trying to push past a Wall of Water. Mark sat at his table, brooding. Henry sat on a chair made by Sufina, scowling. Surya sat in another corner, a young assistant behind him, grumbling. How is the terrace still standing? Agnes wondered. If this had been her bordello, the place would have collapsed. The heart of the problem was Gwen. Agnes understood that, but that was simplifying a complicated matter; like blaming a bushfire on a single lightning strike. Gwen was merely the spark. The fuel of regret and undisclosed desires had been falling for years, piling and piling until it was bone dry and knee deep. From what Agnes recalled, the old boys had kept their problems to themselves, typical of military men. They never engaged in a back-burning of their pent-up grievances, and now the Wall of Fire was ten-meters tall. Agnes felt that she should shoulder some of the blame, she provided the quest, after all, but how could she have known? According to Henry, it should have been a comedy of errors, giving his whelp a taste of the real world. Gwen was supposed to return with a scraped knee, maybe upset, likely sullen, moaning about the disparity between NoMs and Mages. As it turns out, Mark had been fermenting a great Mea Culpa, to prove Henry wrong once and for all. Her fault was that she had left all the intelligence to Mark. After all, he was the Diviner of the bunch, one of the best scryers in the city. Mark had told her the usual; ruffians, the homeless, a few desperate souls who would try to have a go at Gwen. That Stacey was up to her usual troubles, flirting with the Blue on her return trip home. It was supposed to be educational, eye-opening, didactic. Gwen was to gain a broader perspective toward who she worked to save, to ask herself if she was willing to risk her life to rescue those surviving on society's generosity, to question if she could stomach the ugliness of it all; to let her understand the circumstances of those without her advantage. Henry even had a speech prepared, his favourite subject: the responsibilities of those who are great, and the limitations of its exercise. Then, of course, reality blew open the door with a Fireball. According to a seething Henry who was burning up his life-mana like a screeching kettle, Gwen had run headfirst into Mage-stock harvesters. A den of slavers - and not just any slavers either. It was a branch which belonged to the rogue Mages. A shadowy collective of invested parties ran by Outlanders and covertly supported by the Houses, the military, and prominent industrialists. Usually, the Tower turned a blind eye, stamping their feet only when necessary. Henry's Faction knew that so long as NoM ghettos existed, these sort of things were unavoidable. So they bickered. The highest Magister in Sydney, a decorated Diviner Magus and an old Enchanter: bickering like old men with dementia at an asylum, ranting about the past. “Shut up! ALL OF YOU!” she shouted at them. They glared at her sulkily. “Where is Gwen now?” “Gunther is teleporting back as we speak,” Henry replied, his tone decisively glacial. “Then we wait,” Agnes remarked with exasperation. “Tell her the whole story. You should learn to see past your noses for fuck's sake.” Henry and Surya grunted and grumbled, glaring at one another with unfriendly expressions. It was only Mark whose eyes gave Agnes the shivers. But for now, they wait. A teleportation circle blazed and died in the basement of the terrace. Gunther brushed the silvery-motes from Gwen's hair and clothes. Stacey was still naked and incoherent, so the Radiant Mage found a guest room, wrapped her in a blanket, then glamoured her to sleep. He returned to Gwen with a towel, then wrapped it around her shoulders as they made the torturous journey up the narrow stairs. Before Gwen had breached the top, she felt the pressure of projected mana in the air. It was only by retreating against Gunther that she could proceed. “Gwen!” Surya’s voice called out. “My cucu perempuan! What have they done to you?” Gwen rushed from Gunther’s arms to fall into her grandfather’s embrace. "Opa!" She wanted to bury her head in his chest, but her Opa was too short and bony. Instead, the man awkwardly embraced her, giving the impression that she was the one providing comfort. The others watched, some smiling, others expressionless. “I brought a friend.” Surya pointed to a girl behind him. Gwen confusedly looked past Surya, before seeing a familiar visage behind them. That well-tanned skin, that tall, lithe figure, that shoulder length hair which had finally grown out. “Debora!” Gwen couldn’t believe her eyes. “Gwen…” Debora smiled nervously at her friend. The girl looked nervous. She was in front of rare and eminent presences, even if they sounded like bickering children at this moment. “How?” “I was interning with a famous Transmuter… who happened to be your Grandfather. When this whole thing happened…” Debora held Gwen's hand. “I volunteered to come as soon as I heard.” “Oh… oh! Debbie!” Gwen left her grandfather’s gangly canoodle for Debora. The two girls embraced, their similar builds and height allowed Gwen to bury her face and feel the envelopment of something soft and familiar. It was what she needed; not the embrace of a patriarch nor a mentor, but someone on her level. In return, Debora likewise held Gwen close to her, the two girls sharing a moment of intimate empathy. They were interrupted by a displeasing snort. “Perhaps we should proceed with this show trial?” Mark demanded sardonically. The girls separated. Sufina summoned a bench, then joined them. She likewise gave Gwen a tight, albeit wooden hug, then offered her a mug of Golden Mead. Despite been flanked by two allies, Gwen continued to shiver uncontrollably. When finally she looked up to meet Mark’s bespectacled, myopic eyes, her blood boiled. I had trusted this man! He had sent her out on a suicide mission! Was he not her Master’s and Grandfather’s friend and ally? Opa had said that this man saved his life innumerable times! Why had he done this? The anger was empowering: Gwen straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, then sat defiantly forward. “Why did you send me there?” Gwen invoked imperially, her suddenly severe tone of voice raising a few brows. “You told me nothing. I was told to pick up Stacey. But there was no intelligence. Nay, I should say, you misled me on purpose!” The transformation from mewing girl to stoic prosecutor seemed to catch them all by surprise. Gunther raised a brow. She was doing well, considering what he'd just made her do. “You were sent to be tested, Gwen,” Mark replied without emotion. “And so you were.” “That’s a crock of roo-shit!” Surya protested loudly. “Mark, enough with your pedantry!” Henry likewise interjected. “You accuse me of a crime whose origins lie in your blindness! We in this because of your hubris!” Mark fired back! “How dare you! Who do you think you are?” Henry scoffed. “I know that I am not one of the Ten, but so what?" Mark retorted. "Are you going to exile me? Put me in Isolation? Strip me of rank and membership?” “Shut up! Both of you!” Agnes once again had to step in. She adjusted a hair that fell out of place. “Gwen, I am sure you’re as confused about this as anyone could be, so I am going to speak. The rest of you shut up until I finish, or I swear…” Gunther took a stand behind Henry. Mark shot him an unfriendly glance but kept silent. Surya nodded to Agnes from his seat. Henry sat without movement or expression, conserving his limited energy. This scene looked familiar, Gwen suddenly realised, trying to think of an analogy from her old world: the three wise men? No, more akin to the three monkeys: Eyes, Mouth, and Ears, symbols of arrogance, ignorance and hubris. Agnes took a deep breath, organising her thoughts. She walked around the room, eyes scanning for an old memento to jog her mind. A lumen-recording lying amongst the bric-a-brac caught her eye. Removing it from the wall, she presented it to Gwen, pointing to each of the individuals within the sepia image. There was a stern but handsome looking middle-aged man with a tailored moustache. “This is Henry, your Master.” The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. A young man with a face like a skull wearing a dark expression “This is Mark.” An old man with her Opa's face. “This is Surya. He looks old because he is ugly.” “Hey!” “Shut it!” Surya grumbled. Next was a young woman with an intrusive cleavage, a heart-shaped face and light eyes. “This is yours truly.” Strangely, Agnes did not point to the last woman but instead to a girl who was in the background. She was cut off, but Gwen could see her bright and innocent face behind Henry. "This is Jane Chandler, lovely lass." Agnes paused. "She is Mark's sister." The room said nothing. Agnes then finally pointed to the last woman. A sullen looking girl with dark hair and bright eyes. She had a small but well-proportioned frame, a compact torso with long limbs. Despite her demure, downcast gaze, she was uncommonly pretty. Gwen knew girls like that; their neediness drove men's protective instincts wild with possessiveness. “And finally, this is the source of all our troubles: Elizabeth Winsted Sobel.” The room held its breath. Gwen was sure someone was going to disrupt the peace, though both Henry and Mark held their tongue. “She is… or I should say 'was'… a Void mage like you, Gwen." There was a sucking-in of breath. Debora gasped, staring at Gwen with her eyes wide open. Gwen squeezed Debbie's hand, promising to explain later. She found it ironic that Debora, her once rival, would be the first of her friends to know the truth. Agnes paused awkwardly, looking towards Henry. The Master of the Tower waved a hand casually, allowing her to continue. “So, before we go any further, I want to make this very clear,” Agnes resumed her disclosure. “The origin which has sparked your incident, Gwen, is no fault of yours. You are the innocent party in this, regardless of these old men's personal opinions, understand?” Gwen did not understand, at least not yet, but she nodded. Mark snorted sarcastically, drawing glares from the others. “Right.” Agnes nodded. “So here it goes…” “The five of us were some of the first Mages sent into that hellhole known as the Brisbane Line. We didn’t have the know-how of urban combat or wilderness survival back then, so the attrition rate was high. To give you a bit of a history lesson, The Coral Sea War started in the 50s, by the time the 70s rolled around, we were on conscription by lottery. You guys know what that is right?” The girls affirmed that they did. Mandatory Military Service for Mages evolved from those early days of conscription. “Good. So, it was the five of us. Three of us were Australian locals, Henry came from a tier 1 city, although he had been in the country for a half-a-decade, Elizabeth was originally from London, not only that, she was only with us because of Henry..." The situation had deteriorated faster than the weather changed in the jungle. The orders that came through was to hold the Line at all costs. Already, the Militia had conceded the northern half of Queensland, losing hundreds of Mages with every kilometre pushed back. The new line was their wall, behind which was Brisbane city: there were no more lines of retreat. First came the Rippers and the Goannas, mere fodder with teeth and claw, testing the barriers and wasting the Mages' mana. Then came the siege breakers, spear-points of heavily armoured Saurians, cunning and fearless in their savagery. When the Mages were at breaking point, the wyverns came from the skies breathing acid. What started as a Purge for the reclamation of lost land quickly become a rout. Humanity had stirred the hornet's nest. Henry could sense his section collapsing through Sufina's root tendrils. He was a plant Magus, a rare and powerful magician in this forested battlefield, but even he had his limits. Agnes was already exhausted, having churned out Fireball after Fireball, reducing a whole chunk of the swarm to cinders. Mark was still giving out commands via Telepathy and Shared Mind, trying to bolster the men's courage with buffs and relaying the injured to the triage station. He hadn't slept for days; his eyes were bloodshot, deeply sunken in the sockets of his gaunt face. Surya was meditating, trying to recoup his mana. He had spent it bolstering their defences with Iron Skin and Mass Resist Elements. Then there was Elizabeth. Poor Elizabeth. She had left the shelter of London city for Henry, and now she was stuck in this living Frontier hell. She was an Evoker, an Air element prodigy, but even then she was woefully underprepared for the brutality of the trenches. She had been the sort of girl who showered twice a day and took hour-long baths; the type who like to hold conversations over tea and cupcakes. But now Henry's 'Lillybird' was matted with blood and ichor, her once flawless skin covered with cuts and infected rashes. Henry watched her fire off another volley, taking down a wyvern rider before it could drop its cargo of acid. Their eyes met, and he saw her disorder, a sense of unbalanced despair that hinted at the horrors churning in her mind. "Fuck!" Agnes fell back into the trench; a barbed arrow lodged in her shoulder. "This shit better not be poisoned." "You know it is," Surya remarked worriedly. "When did your buff run out?" "Don't know." Agnes winced. Surya scrummaged through his bag and produced a potion. "The last one, better make it count." Agnes grunted and pushed the arrow through, snapping the mid-section. She poured a bit of the potion onto the orifice in her shoulder, then chugged the rest. "Sufina!" Henry commanded. The dryad appeared beside them, channelling a stream of controlled positive energy into the wound. Agnes watched her flesh mend, leaving behind a welting red scar. "Good enough." Agnes spat between grinding teeth. "Hate how that itches so much, its worse than the pain." A Message came through. The line had collapsed all over. The Militia was bringing up the last of the reserves, but it was to be a final stand. Their section was forfeit, but a retreat was suicide. They might as well make it easier for the junior Mages, knowing that every additional lizard they took down was pure profit. Mark dispelled the Glyph, the Message no longer mattered. "We're the only section left for in this region," he stated without any particular emotion, grinning stoically. "I guess this is where we say our last words." "Wall of Fire!" Agnes used up the last of her mana and brought themselves a few more minutes. The team regarded one another, the orange flames casting a warm glow over their exhausted faces. "It was a pleasure working with you all," Mark began. "You've all been more real to me than my half-dozen brother and sisters," Agnes continued. "I rather not die," Surya said sullenly. "But I couldn't have asked for better company." "It was a pleasure and an honour," Henry added. "..." Elizabeth had nothing to add. Henry moved to embrace her, feeling his lover reciprocated woodenly. It was fine. Not everyone could drink danger as 'twere wine of life, and jest as they reel and fall. "I'll protect you to the very end, Liz," Henry promised. "The very end." "I need a glass of water," Agnes said. "I got better." Henry motioned to Sufina, who palmed over a wooden cup of Golden Mead. "The stuff of heroes!" Agnes cheered. "Imagine if we had this back in the day, we could have kept going for weeks." "Well? What happened next?" Gwen asked. They were up to a good part. She hadn't wanted to get caught up in it, but Agnes was an excellent storyteller. The old men had even stopped interjecting and were nodding, grunting, and agreeing with one another. Agnes drained the cup. “Alright... Just as when we’re about to find out if there was a God up there, one of the Saurian Behemoths broke through the Wall of Fire. That thing couldn't give two shits about my spell; it came over the wall with a mouth full of Mages still screaming and shouting. Then it swung its head, and we got covered in bloody pieces of our old mates." "As you can imagine, that was pretty terrifying. I mean, fuck, dying is dying but being eaten alive? Getting turned into lizard shit? That's a piss poor way to go. Just as we were wondering if we could go for a suicide attack and take it down, Lizzy finally lost her marbles. She started screaming about how she didn’t want to be eaten alive, how we should kill her first and spare her the trouble.” At the mention of Elizabeth, Mark’s softening face once again became rigid. “We weren’t going to kill her of course, the rest of us was going to fight to the last man. Hell, even if I wanted to, Henry would have stopped me. She then grabbed Henry and started screaming hysterically. ‘Kill me! Kill me, please! For fuck’s sake don’t let me be eaten!’ I still remember it as clear as yesterday.” The group grew silent once more. Agnes was a good actress. That desperate plea was as authentic as if they had listened to Elizabeth’s hysteria in person. “Then Henry went down, just like that. None of us knew what was going on at the time; we thought it was some an ambush ability, a poison dart. Sufina started going nuts, saying that something was draining her life. Then the Behemoth stamped out the flames and bam; the Swarm was upon us, that was it, fucked to the bitter end." "Of course, we're all here now, so no spoilers," Agnes continued when Gwen audibly gasped. "Especially not for you, Gwen. You can probably guess what happened next. Liz must have awoken to her Void element because when she channelled everything she had into a suicidal Air Vortex, she instead popped open a black hole into the Quasi-elemental Plane of the Void." A what?! Gwen wanted to call her Agnes out there and then. No amount of magic could create the gravitational pull of a collapsing star! But then she realised that this was not a 'black hole' in the scientific sense, but an unstable portal. The operative principle, so it seemed, was the fact that it acted as a vacuum into the Void. "Everything got sucked up in there. Trees, grass, rocks, Rippers. Have you ever seen a lizard the size of a house sucked into a hole the size of a coffee table? Messy, very-very messy. The Saurians were going nuts! They just kept coming at it, and it just kept sucking. The whole while though, Sufina was feeding her life-force into Henry, and Liz was drinking him up like a milkshake!" "That horrid woman..." Sufina recalled some rather unpleasant memories. Henry shook his head. "Anyway, we lived." Agnes reached for another drink. “That’s a light way to put it,” Surya blurted out. "We were this close to drifting into the vacuum of another world, Agnes. You make it sound like we ate some bad kababs. Come on; you gotta dramatise it a little more…” “Shut up, Surya,” Agnes snarled. “So we were expecting to join the Saurians, and that’s when Surya confessed to me. He told me that he wanted to die between my breasts.” Surya choked trying to swallow his cup of water. There were some chuckles. Agnes continued her story. “Then, as quick as it had started, it was all over, we had cleared out half the swarm in our section, and the rest were making a run for it. Bam! Mission accomplished. A whole Batallion's work, done in ten minutes by one black hole. We didn't know why until later." "Of course, Liz was burned out, as was Henry. None of us was sure what had happened. We carried them back to the line. It was an easy trip though. It wasn't until months after the fact that we found out the Saurians worshipped the Sun God, so when a black hole that drank all light ate half their shock troops - you get the idea." "When we finally got back to base and healed up, Liz told us that she had awoken to something. Some form of Negative Energy. She wanted us to keep it a secret because we haven't seen anything like it before. She didn't want to get taken in and get dissected, probed, cut up." "If we had reported her, it would have been the end of it," Mark said suddenly. "Yeah well, hindsight's twenty-twenty, hey?" Agnes retorted. "Lizzy was still our mate back then. She was a little moody and not very brave, but she was as good a sheila as any in a tight spot. At any rate, if a mate of yours didn't want somebody probing her gut, who were we to refuse? She just saved all our arses!" "We were expecting to lose Brisbane, and now suddenly, we were the victors. All because of of Commander Kilroy. No one had seen what happened, and Henry concocted some story about us killing a high priest. I mean, there were like, a few thousand Saurian bodies around us? There was a mostly chewed up behemoth right in front of our trench! When they picked through the bodies, there were at least half a dozen Saurian Priests!" "We got promoted, we got bonuses, our families got relocated to safer zones. We were drunk on our success. No one knew how we did it, only that we did it and we saved the day. Things were simpler back then: no Towers, no supremacists, no Grey Factions, no Shadow Guilds, none of this Spectre bullshit. People were trying to survive, NoMs and Mages. They started trotting us out for propaganda; we didn't complain, we were like celebrities." "Big mistake." Surya sighed. "No shit." Mark spat cynically. "They separated us. We had to go to different zones and support the troops. That was the beginning of the end." "Henry tried to stay with Elizabeth as often as he could, but he was being groomed to be a bigwig. Liz was the darling of the bunch. She was well-spoken, from a good family in a tier 1 city, a real poster girl, you know? Think I look good? You haven't seen a real doll until you've seen Liz in that dress uniform, I heard they cut her hem two inches higher, and recruitment was up ten per cent. Man, she was a knockout." Henry smiled nostalgically. Mark's face grew darker. "Anyway, they sent her out to F.O.Bs to rally the troops and all that. Mark transferred to the intelligence division. Henry stayed on at H.Q. I wanted to retire, so I had no part in all that glam." "What was Opa doing?" Gwen asked curiously. There was an awkward silence. "I was drunk," Surya said at last. "We lost a lot of friends..." Agnes nodded understandingly. "I was with him for a while..." Surya turned beet red. "I confessed to your grandmother later..." Agnes coughed. "Anyway... while on Propaganda duty, the base came under attack. Not Saurians this time, but Merfolk, apparently they didn't believe in the Saurian's story about some angry Sun God, go figure, right? Then stuff happened." "Stuff ... happened?" Gwen looked at them confusedly. Why the vague detail now? "Yep, stuff, because no one knows. Elizabeth Winsted Sobel was the only person to return from that base. A single woman out of five hundred Mages and two thousand odd NoMs." "Not no one," Mark interjected suddenly. "Somebody knew, but Marshall Kilroy covered it up." "So how did you know?" Gwen asked. Mark had been away; in the intelligence division. Was he stalking Elizabeth? "I know... " Mark spat between clenched teeth. "Because my sister was on that base when it all happened." 'Spak!' There was a crack. A hairline fracture appeared in Mark's gold-rimmed spectacles. Opposite Mark, Henry brooded. His throat bobbed once or twice, but he ultimately elected to say nothing. When Mark next spoke, his voice held the enmity of a Blade Barrier. "Assuming Master Kilroy doesn't silence me in the next ten minutes, let me tell you the monstrous truth hidden from the world!"

Mark reached into the deep-set draw of his mahogany table and produced something wrapped in a dark aubergine cloth. He placed it carefully upon the table, smoothing its edges. With great care, he began to unfold the fabric, revealing a dark crystal globe which contained a swirling, grey mist. Gunther was the first to react. He was up in an instant, a shimmer of radiance surrounded Henry and Gwen with a wave of his hand. "Master Chandler, Necromancy is an offence punishable with life imprisonment." Gunther's warning was tinged with uncharacteristic malice, betraying his usual stoicism. "Mark, are you insane?" Surya swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Why do you have a Deaths Orb? And more importantly, who do you have in there?" Agnes nervously snuck a glance towards Henry. The Geneva Convention strictly forbade Necromancy after the Undead crisis of WWI. Any Mage caught in possession of Necromantic items faced severe punishment with extreme prejudice. The minimum sentence for the practice of Death Magic was Exile, while the maximum sentence was Execution. Even Gwen knew of the dangers of Necromancy, for one of the first lessons taught in high school was the history of the Undead crisis which lost the human race almost half of its population, begun the great exodus from central Europe, and lead to the establishment of the Frontier Cities. Now, in front of Gwen, was an actual relic from that era. An Orb of Death, an artefact used to pluck individual souls from the aether and entrap them for the pleasure and perusal of the Necromancer. In the next few seconds, Gwen could see her Master consider his options. As Lord of the Tower, it was well within his rights to silence Mark right this instant. The moment Mark had taken out the Orb, it was the beginning of the end. But Mark also knew Henry would listen: it was in his character to do so. The others likewise awaited Henry's decision patiently. The question that burned upon their minds, however, was what Mark hoped to accomplish with the Orb. "Not going to silence me then?" Mark asked sardonically in that steady voice of his, testing Henry. Henry closed his eyes as if in meditation. "You may regret this yet." Mark smirked. "But before we begin, there are those of us here who have yet to know the truth. Agnes? Perhaps you can enlighten the subject of our little debacle? Our very own Acolyte of the Void, as to how exactly her predecessor faired?” "Henry?" Agnes asked carefully. Henry was their friend, of course, but he was still the Master of the Tower, the highest authority in the land. If the Tower was going to censor them or act on Henry's behalf, there was little they could do. Who was Agnes but a retired Evoker and a Madam in a bordello, and Mark, a Diviner with scant favours to call? They were no match for Henry. Hell, if things got ugly, they were no match for Gunther, who could be done with them in less than a minute, leaving behind no evidence of a struggle. Henry opened his eyes, and to their surprise, he was tranquil: there was no upset in his eyes, nor any particular sadness. “What’s to come, will come,” Henry said slowly. “To even resort to Necromancy…” He turned to Mark. “Perhaps it is indeed time to raise skeletons from their shallow graves. Allow me to take over the tale for a while, Agnes.” Her Master turned to Gwen. “Child, I am about to reveal something that is very precious to me. It is not a pleasant tale. There are no happy endings. And so, I ask for your understanding.” “Of course, Master,” Gwen replied politely, watching the weathered lines on her Master’s face. They waited for Henry to gather his thoughts. “Officially, the Massacre at Noosa Heads has but one survivor. The Hero of the Brisbane Line, Elizabeth W. Sobel. Later, a task force sent to investigate the incident found her.” “I led that task force. A group of translocation specialists and I had reached the area by nightfall. The base had been destroyed, decimated. There was a semi-spherical inlet which had formed, now filled with the sea. Everything was gone, washed away, no buildings, no Mage, no NoMs, no Mermen. There wasn’t even anything underwater. Just smooth bedrock, sand, and whatever the ocean washed in. Further out to sea, we found a dead Kraken, most of it was likewise missing, by then it was already the victim of a feeding frenzy." “We found Elizabeth the same evening, wounded but holding steady, hiding in a cavern. Sufina administered healing, and we returned with her to the city, thinking ourselves lucky that she survived. God knows I was.” "As I was the Marshall, I put myself in charge of investigations. It was a hot mess. Five hundred Mages dead, over four hundred were cadets, most from influential families who had thought the school safe. Mothers and fathers wanted justice, and I had to give them something. At this stage, all I could do was ask Lizzy." "According to Elizabeth, they were attacked by a Kraken which broke through the shielding of the base. She had been with Jane, Mark's sister, having tea at the mess when it happened. The whole building had folded in on itself, trapping the Officers inside. Elizabeth protected Jane, but had to use most of her vitality to Void shield the two of them through the falling concrete slabs." "When they finally dug themselves out, the battle was in full force. The Kraken was tearing the place apart, penetrating the base's defences by ripping out the embedded Glyphs from the buildings themselves. There was chaos everywhere, Mermen were killing the students, and the teachers couldn't hold them back. I wasn't there, so Elizabeth couldn’t use her powers without draining her life." "She eventually made it to the crystal storage depot, using her powers to slip through the gates, she tainted the crystals with motes of Void. Elizabeth told Jane to flee, but the Kraken was upon them. The behemoth blew through the walls of the bunker, and Elizabeth had to make a call, or die a needless death. With no other choice, she detonated the containers, and the resulting explosion took out everything in the vicinity. She made a Void Shield with the last of her strength but was unable to cover Jane. When she woke up, everything was gone, and she was adrift on a newly formed beach, with the tide coming in." "That's the story we all heard," Surya informed Gwen. "At that time, there was no reason to doubt her. This was the Elizabeth we had known for years, she never lied to us or cheated us before, and we didn't see why we should start suspecting her now." "Ha!" Mark chortled. "So, back to the trial," Henry continued. "The families of the victims demanded a scapegoat, someone to blame, so the brass suggested Elizabeth. I was so angry, furious. How did that even make sense? I knew - we knew, that Elizabeth had Void magic, but they didn’t! They were purely using her to cover their intelligence failure! Then there was a rumour which started, a rather truthful one that suggested that the destruction at the cove matched the very same one that Elizabeth and the group had made during the Brisbane Line incident. People started to join the dots, and some members of the brass were baying for her blood, saying that she was somehow responsible. They wanted me, me! To prosecute her. I felt helpless, even as the Marshall." This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. “But then, we had a lucky break. The Mermen withdrew! They had retreated like the Saurians! There was such a thing as seizing the moment, so I did the only thing I could. Elizabeth and I went to the British Mageocracy. We showed them how her power worked, and what she could do. We even agreed to limited testing and experimentation. They were impressed, extremely impressed, excited at the potential game changer it represented. Suddenly, all the voices calling for her to go on trial silenced. She was now a priceless asset. I pleaded her case. The Tribunal reviewed the evidence and found it in Elizabeth’s favour." "Then our troubles began,” Henry announced with a slight shake of his head. "We had no idea what using Void magic continually did to Elizabeth, only that we went on many missions, racked up victory after victory, drunk on our success." "What was Mark doing this whole time?" Gwen interjected suspiciously. "I was away with important research," Mark's voice trembled, full of anticipation. "I was here and there, but insignificant in any way. Pray, continue…” And Henry continued. “Elizabeth and I married a month later. We had always planned to get married after the Propaganda Tour, and we were now in it for the long haul. Agnes was the bridesmaid, and Surya was my best man. Mark was indisposed. It was a small, private ceremony, very romantic. We needed each other, both in love and in craft, the others came to call us the dynamic duo." Gwen performed a double take, choking on her water. Debora eased her breathing by patting Gwen's back. Sufina produced another cup of mead for Henry, who drank it, then closed his eyes for a long while to recuperate his strength. The room was silent, bar Mark’s incessant tapping of his feet. After a while, Henry opened his eyes and began to speak once more. “We performed whatever missions the council set for us, travelled all around the world at the behest of this party and that government, serving her Majesty and the Commonwealth however we could. When the war took a lull in the mid-70s, we applied for a conditional discharge. Humanities’ lands were being reclaimed all over the world, and as Magister and Magus with a long service record, we had the option of staying anywhere we liked, so long as it was away from tier 1 cities. We wanted somewhere away from it all, so we choose Eger, a Hungarian township, an hour’s flight from Budapest. No one knew us there, and we barely spoke the language, it was perfect. I bought a vineyard outside of town, hired a dozen NoMs as servants, and set ourselves up as minor aristocracy from the Commonwealth. Elizabeth seemed to like the country air, really took to it, in fact, her constitution had always been weak after Brisbane, but she appeared to get better….” Henry touched the brittle flowers in the vase; the once vibrant bouquet crumbled into dry flakes of brown-grey dust. He sighed, searched for a dustpan, then patiently swept the remains away. He placed his suitcase by the open kitchen and walked through the long hallway toward the bedrooms. The region had once belonged to the long gone Ottoman Empire, and the architecture of the vineyard had retained its Baroque influence. The hallway was a cross-crossing network of light and shadow, alternatively lit in bright sunlight and stark silhouette. Outside, Henry could see the NoMs tending to the grapes, row upon rows of stakes pregnant with green vines, drawing as far as the eye could see until it bent across the horizon. As a hobby, Henry had tried his hand at winemaking in the months since they arrived. Unfortunately, his talent lied only in finding and drinking the most exceptional vintage stowed in the cellar. It was a slice of paradise, a place of their own. Henry knew the bliss was ephemeral, but the respite of the moment was difficult to let go. How long had they fought the beasts that came from the Wildlands? Two decades? He felt as though he hadn’t stopped since stepping out of his academy. His feet stopped before reaching the double doors of the master bedroom. Watching the emerald vista outside, he recalled another sun-tossed steppe. He thought of Sydney. Where was Agnes? How was Surya? Was Mark still mourning for his sister? What were they doing? Had they carved out a home of their own, taking their respite from the war? He walked into a spacious bedroom with a vaulted, double storey ceiling. There was a four-post bed, double-king-sized, which he had custom ordered from the local carpenter. Henry pulled over the bed-tray and placed the breakfast gingerly by the oversized bed. Elizabeth slept buried in a mass of pillows and soft white sheets. Her complexion was bloodless, her blue veins aristocratic against her pale, flawless skin. The NoMs had taken to calling her ‘The Countess,’ which made Henry laugh. She slept carelessly, a wayward sheet covering her scandalous figure, her petite breasts forming only the slightest of suggestive mounds. Henry savoured the moment, admiring, for here in one bed lay his whole world. “Up, up, sleeping beauty.” He waved a hand over the bed-tray. Coffee and sweet cakes materialised from the Storage Ring. “I bought Presszókávé and Flódni.” He lured her to consciousness with the heavenly scented breakfast. Elizabeth slowly stirred, twirling the sheets around and curling her slender legs behind her. “Morning…” “Noon, you mean.” Henry smiled gently. Elizabeth stretched; the white sheets slid from her torso. Henry looked nervously around the room. The bay windows were slightly ajar; the playful wind lifted the curtains carelessly. “You look beautiful,” Henry remarked. “How do you feel today?” She beamed at him, her baby-blue eyes refracting the warm glow of noon light. “Energised. I would love to go into town later.” “Shall I join you?” “If you wish… have you finished all your work?” “It’s never-ending,” Henry returned a little bitterly. “The negotiations for the Tower is taking some time.” “I’ll be a while, lots of shopping to do. I haven’t even explored the old Market in full yet. Join me later then?” “Sure.” They ate the desserts he had bought. Henry wasn’t a fan, but his 'Lillybird' was very much in possession of a sweet tooth. She could pack away the Madártej, the Dobostorta, and a whole serving of Gesztenyepüré in a single sitting. He sometimes wondered why she never seemed to grow fat, though he’d thought it wiser to avoid that question lest he risked her wrath. After breakfast, he watched Elizabeth dress in a chiffon tulip dress that reached her knees, accessorised with sandals and a broad-brimmed hat, the very picture of grace. “Kívánok…” the servants greeted her. She asked for the driver; it would be twenty minutes to get to the market from the vineyard, and she didn't want to fly. Henry made for the study, a spacious converted bedroom that looked over the vineyard’s south, settling comfortably into his work. Endless paperwork and negotiations. Research. Treaties. Correspondences. Repetition. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. It was good. The work was quiet, and Elizabeth was snug in her white sheets morning after morning. Henry loved waking with his head resting in her lap, tying him to this land, lulled by everything around. His only wish was that perhaps, this would go on, day after day, their very own slice of paradise. “I should have known something wasn’t right.” Henry sighed deeply. “But I was blinded by the impossible happiness we had shared.” "Even when the dead plants turned to small animals, birds and the like, I choose to ignore it. Lizzy confessed, of course, she always did. Sometimes crying, sometimes depressed, sometimes angry and in denial. It broke my heart. I should have done something, gotten her help maybe, but I couldn’t disturb the life we had there. She was so happy, always sleeping until noon, rarely going out, even then, it was just for shopping and desserts. I convinced myself this was what she needed.” “Then one day, one of the NoM servants brought his dog, saying that something had attacked it, fearing that it was a Magical Beast which had somehow snuck through the Barrier Shields. That happened pretty often in the old days; the Magi-tech was fairly new. I knew what had happened the moment I saw it. It was a big dog, one of the hunting hounds they used to clear out the rabbits and foxes, but now it was just a husk, skin wearing bones. It looked like a drain attack had stricken it.” “I asked him where Elizabeth had gone, and he told me she’d gone to town. I had a terrible premonition. Whenever Elizabeth had an episode, she would be fatigued, tired, delirious even. She should be in no condition to travel to town after leaking enough void mana to drain a hound of this size. I had to find her before she injured herself.” “So I abused one of the privileges I had enjoyed as an Administrator of the new Tower and used a Teleport to get to the town. I asked around the market. It wasn’t too difficult to track someone like Elizabeth. How many pale skinned girls in white dresses could there be in an old Ottoman market? I followed her dessert-crumb trail, and true to her word, she was leaving behind a whole chain of impressed pâtisserie and bakers.” “Ultimately, I tracked her to the Varios-a-varos Alatt, the town under the town, a network of tunnels used by the old Church to store wine…”

Henry patted down the pocket of the gate guard in a friendly manner. Feeling the shape of the crystal he had inserted there, the soldier saluted smartly and resumed his patrol, certainly not seeing a high-ranking Mage entering a restricted area. The descent into the cellar led to a sloping set of stone stairs carved from volcanic rhyolite, the old bedrock of the city, and it led into the uncertain darkness. “Sufina,” Henry called, and the Dryad materialised beside him. “Liz is down here?” She asked. “Yes.” Henry had always refrained from summoning Sufina while Elizabeth was present. Though they are both dear to Henry, the two of them shared an antagonistic relationship. Sufina loathed supplying Elizabeth with her vitality, performing her duty only to protect and please Henry. Elizabeth did not like the way the Dryad acted possessively over her husband. “What do you think she’s doing here?” “Looking for vintage wine… I hope… ” Henry replied. “Let’s go.” The cellar was extensive, spreading from the Rácz Gate to the Hatvan Gate, spanning over four kilometres. Toward the cross-road section lay the most impressive part of its medieval architecture, a seven by seven bisect of pillars. As a result, the chess table shadows cast by the lights made the intersection impossible to navigate by sight. Sufina tracked the surroundings carefully, possessing a natural talent for finding signs of human passage. “Here, this way…” They arrived at a flooded section. A knee-deep layer of water permeated the ancient stonework. “Are you certain?” “I am.” “Water Walk!” Henry stepped over the stale water as though it were flat ground. He made it to the other side, then brought over Sufina with her Faery Lights. The signs of human passage were now visible; there were splotches of water here and there. Further in, he found a pair of abandoned sandals, too caked with dirt and mud to be useful. They belonged to his wife. He was close. The duo proceeded down an unexcavated corridor for half a kilometre, finally arriving at a junction. “Which way?” Sufina tasted the atmosphere for the scent of sweat and human odour. Elizabeth was fond of sweet and fruity perfumes. "She's-" “Aaaeeeeeaegh!” A cry resonated through the tunnels, a female voice, hysterical with pain and panic. “That way…” Sufina stated worriedly. Henry was moving before she had even finished. “Long Stride!” The Magister intoned, suddenly moving like a man shot from a ballista. Sufina followed, extending her legs to match Henry’s supernatural speed. They arrived at a chamber well lit by low candles, hundreds of them forming a cathedral. It looked to be an old shrine: the ceiling was arched, the chamber's sides carved from the volcanic rock. His wife was there, but she was not alone. It was apparent by now that Elizabeth was not seeking out lost caskets of Hungarian Merlot. “Lizzy… “ Henry sucked in his breath, swallowing nervously, his hands trembling as he spoke. “What… what are you doing?” Elizabeth was arm-deep inside the poor lass, her elbow protruding from a cavity just below her chest. She had a maniacal look in her eye, the very same look that Henry had seen on her face in the heat of battle, her pupils were dilated, pushing apart the baby blue of her iris. Her expression was euphoric, as though she was in the midst of a pleasant midsummer dream. A pool of gore had collected underneath her, staining her white dress a deep carmine, the tulip edge had been tainted garnet, turning the chiffon into bloody gauze. The woman, a stranger, looked at Henry with pleading eyes. Elizabeth tilted her head, her pupils retracting as they focused on her husband. Coyly, she put on the expression of a naughty little girl caught taking extra candy from the jar. With agonising slowness, she withdrew her hand, sliding it from the gasping girl as if drawing a sword from a bloody sheath. “Sufina!” The dryad shot towards Elizabeth and caught the girl, injecting a jolt of positive energy. The girl gasped, her eyes glazed over with a moment of hope, then laid still. Sufina looked up angrily at Elizabeth before turning to Henry, shaking her head slightly. “Elizabeth… answer me. What are you doing here? Why-why this?” Elizabeth looked as though she wanted to think of an excuse - but ultimately couldn’t summon the mental effort to do so. “I was hungry,” she confessed quietly, her voice wet with desire in the darkness. “The desserts weren’t enough, Henry. You should have brought extra servings.” “You’re not yourself,” Henry carefully moved toward her. “Who's... the girl?” Elizabeth didn’t answer him. Instead, she lifted her dress and wiped her arm with the hem. It did nothing, for the blood was well congealed, set deep into the creases of her elbow, her fingers, the space between her nails. “Do you hate me now? Henry?” “How can I?” Henry said earnestly. “You need help.” “Do I?” Elizabeth lifted her arms above her head elegantly, spinning on her back foot and moving towards Henry like a red-rimmed flower. There was something dangerously sensual about her. “We’ll get you help…” Henry caught Elizabeth as she spun into his arms. “Only if you kiss me,” she said, her lips parting. Henry held his wife and felt his heart bleed all over. His mind was blank. For once in his life, he had no idea what to do. He had thought her getting better, healing, moving away from war. She was happy at the vineyard, wasn’t she? Didn’t they have a slice of paradise there? Wasn’t that enough? He leaned in to kiss her. What could he do? He would have to get her help. Perhaps an asylum? No. Mayhap his old contacts at the Lyceum in Greece could help her. They had the world’s best healers there, surely somebody would know. “Henry! No!” Sufina’s cry jolted him from the lulling kiss. Henry felt a sharp pain entering his chest, easily bypassing his ribs and cutting into his lungs. Instantly, his body grew cold, all warmth stifled by the hand that now grasped his heart. He coughed - arterial blood sprayed from his lips, speckling Elizabeth’s white face with crimson blossoms. Sufina transformed into her battle form. Her smooth wooden skin turned cruel with barbs and thorns, her face growing grotesque with a feral madness. Tendrils of ironwood formed into deadly arrows. Elizabeth spun, still holding Henry, a rag-doll shield propped against Sufina’s retaliation. Immediately, the tendrils turned to soft vines, wrapping around Henry’s arms and legs, pulling him away from Elizabeth. There was a sound of flesh tearing. Sufina poured her life-force into its Master, though the Magister's world had already grown dark. “Master…” Gwen felt her heart jolt when Henry stopped his story to take yet another sip of Sufina’s mead. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. “I am not Undead if that’s what you’re thinking,” Henry spoke with a tone of understated mirth. “I survived thanks to Sufina.” Gwen shifted her attention to Sufina, her bark-like skin alternatively dark olive with light pine highlights, her face an exquisite art sculpture. “Are you tired, Henry?” Sufina enquired worriedly. “It’s fine… it’s fine. There’s a little more of the tale to go.” The Magister continued. “When I came to, I had no idea what to do. Was Elizabeth glamoured? Was she taken over by some treacherous spirit? How could my wife, the woman I loved, turn into such a monster? As I made my way through that cellar, I found more … evidence of her work. She had been taking people down here: mostly young Mages, sometimes NoMs. Mostly women, a few young men…” “I had to find Elizabeth quickly. God knows what she was up to, what she could be doing in that state of mind. I called in help. There were only three other people in the world who knew the truth in its entirety, who cared enough about Elizabeth to want to help me save her…” Henry surveyed the gathering around him. Mark shot him a half-smile from behind the still shimmering Death’s Orb. Agnes took on an expression of melancholy. Surya crossed his arms and stared into the middle distance. Gwen and Debora held one another's hands, their chests rising and falling arrhythmically. “It took a few days to gather them. Thankfully, Elizabeth hadn’t gotten far. I pursued her each time she tried to rest, wearing her out, hoping she would come to her senses. The old party and I tracked Elizabeth across half of Hungary to Gyula, near the Romanian Border. Her killings went unabated the entire time, and she was beginning to earn a name for herself: 'The Bloody Countess'. Here was the old country; the peasantry was still superstitious. We were lucky that they had thought her a Nosferatu, a vampyre; for the alternative would have made things much more complicated.” “We followed her bloody crumbs… She was becoming insatiable. There was only one death in the first town we reached, by the tenth, it was by scores of five or six, sometimes grotesquely arranged in some horrid ritual. We trudged on, Mark using a combination of Divination and Scry to try to locate where she could be, where she headed.” “Finally… we found her by the Gyulai vár, the abandoned castle…” “Arrghk! “ Mark staggered against the wall, one hand placed over his left eye. A trickle of blood appeared between his fingers. “Mark!” Agnes touched his convulsing shoulders. The Diviner raised his free hand, indicating that he was alright. “She knows we’re here. I’ve lost my Arcane Eye.” “Sufina.” Henry motioned. “Tend to Mark. Where is she now?” “North Tower,” Mark replied, allowing Sufina to mend his bleeding eye, restoring some vision to an otherwise swollen mess. The psychic feedback from the sudden dispel had shocked his optic senses, rupturing a few blood vessels, there was likely permanent damage. “She’s weak. I think we’ve harassed her enough. Made her use up too much vitality.” “Let's not waste any time then,” Henry stated coldly. “Surya, do it.” Surya produced several accessories the size of fingernails, each imbued with a diamond the size of a quail egg. Upon closer inspection, the crystalline forms were not mineral diamonds, but scintillating mana cores of some celestial creature cut and carved with brilliant facets. Surya felt the weight of the Creature Cores in his hand, their mass betraying their form. These were the Heart of Archons, each priceless on its own, carved and inscribed to shield against all types of negative energy. In the old days, Henry had them made to ward against Elizabeth’s careless AOEs. Surya affixed the accessories to their chests, then uttered the activation keywords. In the next instant, their bodies began shedding a dull glow. “Think we’ll corner her this time?” Agnes asked carefully. “There shouldn't be a single human soul around here for kilometres,” Mark replied for Henry. “Not after we told them the Vampire was holed up in the castle. She’s exhausted and has nothing to drain from, nows the time.” Agnes again attempted to read their friend and leader's expression - but saw nothing but fatigue and misery. “Let's buff up.” “Mass Flight!” “Iron Skin!” “True Seeing.” “Sufina, get started.” A mass of vines sprouted from the Dyrad, spreading out as crawling tendrils up the walls of the castle and toward the North Tower. They watched as she encased the exterior in less than a minute. “Are you sure you want to do this, Henry?” Agnes asked, her own eyes heavy with the accumulated stress of an oppressive conscience. Surya’s face was a mask of raw emotions with nothing to hide. Mark’s wore his usual calm and collected poker face. In contrast, Henry’s stoic apathy sent shivers down her spine. She knew just how much he had loved his 'Lillybird', how much he had sacrificed for her. His sterling career, his fortune, a decade of his life, the prime of a Mage’s prowess, all given to the woman he loved so that she could feel happy and without want. But the events of the last few months had made that dream stillborn. The crew had seen so much carnage while in pursuit of the 'Bloody Countess'; there was no coming back from that. Elizabeth was mad, that was without question, but Agnes couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was the magic taking over, and how much of it was herself. Henry's wife had been a slim, shy girl with brilliant eyes and a face made for portraits. She wore white dresses and liked to show off her slender, white legs. Lizzy had been a sister, a friend, a comrade. If Agnes felt such heart-wrenching guilt for what was inevitably to come, then what malevolent storms must be churning within Henry’s heart? “Telepathic Bond!” Agnes’s internal rumination was cut off by the sudden intrusion of thoughts from others, silenced at once by the activation of the shared spell. She whipped around to see Mark watching at them with that poker face of his. The Divination staple was an essential battlefield boon, but also served as a potential source of annoyance as it unwittingly shared strong emotions. The moment their mind’s had connected, Agnes had distinctly felt Henry’s doubt, distress, and misery. Her face flushed, Mark should have also sensed it, but the man's man was as cold as ice. “You should have warned me,” she said, displeased, turning away from him. “Sorry, I am a little tense,” Mark replied. Their thoughts now connected, the group moved out. Henry took the stairs, Sufina’s barbed vines sealing every passage as they went. Surya and Agnes took the outside: Surya made his way up the tower with Spider Climb, marking the window; Agnes encircled the same tower from a safe distance. Mark remained below, safely managing the flow of thoughts and information, feeding them the location and action of Elizabeth with Clairvoyance. Henry entered the tower, making known his progress via means of mental commands. The other two were in position. Surya paused just outside the window of the tower, perched against the stonework of the old Ottoman fort. Agnes hovered on the other side, her body charged with motes of fire, ready to do her worst. To Henry’s surprise, the ancient door, an iron-banded wooden relic, was unlocked. He pushed it open, his eyes adjusting to the silhouettes of light and shadow within. There was a woman in a torn, white dress lying against a bleak and rusty facade. The smell of iron was heavy in the air. Henry had found his wife, the fabled Bloody Countess. Elizabeth’s slim legs extended from beneath her soiled dress, bare but for dark stains of clotting blood that ran between her once white thighs. A trail of blood that led to Elizabeth, pooling underneath her like dark sangria. Her face had always been frail and pale. But now it was ghostly, ethereal. Like a marionette with slack strings, she forced her head up. Underneath her dark locks were her eyes, the hue of baby blue untouched even by the state of her physical trauma. “You came.” Elizabeth affected a warm smile on her cold lips. “I tried to save him you know. Or perhaps it was a she. I know you preferred girls.” Henry's mind reeled, a wave of emotions washing over the Telepathic Bond. He staggered back against the door, physically repulsed by the realisation of what he had just witnessed, by Elizabeth's revelation. Within his mind, he heard cries of shock and dismay echo from his companions. In the next moment, Surya leapt from the crumbling brickwork of the tower’s window into the room. Agnes likewise entered by the south-facing opening. “Elizabeth…” “Oh God Lizzy…” Despite their concern, Henry noted his friends kept their distance. The unbidden metaphor sent ice-cold tendrils of realisation throughout his body. His friends were right: they might feel for Elizabeth as her old companions, but their instincts as veterans of a hundred battles told them that she was a monster. “How… how long?” he asked with trembling lips. “A month? Two? One trimester? I am not sure anymore,” Elizabeth said weakly. “It made me feel so hungry. I just wanted to eat. I was just so hungry, all the time.” She coughed. Sakura specs bloomed on her white dress. “I could die for a Dobos torte right now…” she joked dryly. No one laughed. “I don’t suppose you could get Sufina to give me a hand?” Her breath was shallow now, weaker. Elizabeth looked toward Henry demurely, dropping her heart-shaped face before turning her eyes up and toward him. Henry felt his chest tighten, almost allowing his lips to move before the thoughtless act became interjected by cries of ‘No!’ and ‘Careful now…’ Elizabeth was his wolfsbane. He had no power before her. He was glad he had his companions with him. “No?” Elizabeth asked weakly. Henry shook his head. They stood in silence, watching the blood seep, watching her pale skin begin to turn grey. Surya turned away. Agnes wept quietly. Henry stood, stoic as a statue. “The vineyard… it was nice…” “It was our piece of paradise…” “…” “I am sorry…” Elizabeth’s head fell to one side, a parting smirk upon her lips. There was a sudden shudder in the air. A dark portal opened. A black hole. Lizzy's signature spell, the beginning of the end. His companions dived for the windows. Surya's shoulder slammed into Henry, throwing him from the opening before taking flight into the air. Agnes let herself drop from the south facing opening, stopping only meters before the churning waters of the moat. Mark watched from below. The top of the tower became instantly consumed by a dark mass, a sphere that drank in all light. It lasted only a second. When it was over, there was nothing left but exposed, ancient Ottoman stones that predated the Christian reclamation of the city. “That.. is the long and short of it.” Henry breathed out as though a great burden had shed from his shoulders. “Which brings us to you, Mark.” The group turned to look at Mark. It was time for him to provide the answers to his grand charade. “Why did you endanger Gwen? Was it for your sister? Did you suspect that Elizabeth was involved in her death?” Henry demanded. "But you know all this; our minds had been linked." Mark’s expression was unreadable. “You think that’s the whole story?” Mark replied with a voice full of bitterness. “You think your Elizabeth went mad in Eger?” The Diviner's face took on an expression of triumphant madness. He placed a hand on the Death’s Orb, watching Henry wince as he said his next words. “Allow me then, to bring to birth; the monstrous light of truth!”

Mark’s voice trembled as he spoke, fully aware of the incarceration that awaited him, carefully enunciating every precious syllable. “You see, while Henry was away trying to save his precious 'Lillybird', I too was beside myself with grief. To me, there was nothing more important to me than my sister. We were orphans: I was her brother, her mentor and her guardian. She was the reason I served with all of you in the first place. When we had succeeded in saving the Brisbane Line, I had her enrol in the Officer Cadet’s Program. It was supposed to be safe, the kids there were all from notable families, talented. They were supposed to go on milk runs, be coddled through the two years of mandatory service. Jane could then join me in the Intelligence Division. I could look after her - the war would end, we could settle anywhere we liked in the Frontier.” “Then Noosa Heads happened, and all of my dreams crumbled to dust.” He looked at his companions coldly. “It’s a common story. I know, there were thousands like us during that time. Mages and NoMs, grieving together. Why the drama? What makes my sister’s death so special? I tell you what. I knew something stank the moment it happened because I knew about Elizabeth!” Mark tapped his head. “Telepathic Bond. Shared Thoughts. Mass Message. Once you tap into someone’s head long enough, a little bit of them rubs off on you. As soon as I heard the news, I suspected her. There was a madness in that woman. None of you believed me of course - not sweet, innocent Elizabeth! Not with her baby-blue eyes! Or was it out of deference for Henry? We owe him so much: our positions, our wealth, our influence, all thanks to him, right? We couldn’t turn against that! There was no biting the hand!” His voice rose an octave; Mark was breathing heavily now, his excitement dispelling the cool and collected Mark they had known. The others listened wordlessly. Gwen and Debra held one another’s hand. So many skeletons raised from the dead. So many monsters were churning under dark and tranquil waters. She almost wanted to say that this was enough. No more. Elizabeth’s depravity. The loss of her Master’s child. Mark’s sister: what would lie at the tunnel’s bitter end? She thought of that old aphorism. He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster, for if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Mark continued, spittle flying every which way, his blood was up. “Oh, I knew. I knew there was something underneath that sweet face. There was hunger there! I felt it! Inhuman, primal, terrifying. It wasn’t anything that could be satisfied by nature! She was born a man-eater, but now she would be an eater of men! Ha!” “Mark!” Agnes shouted at him, her face full of upset and dismay. “Enough!” “Enough?!” Mark howled at her. An arcane glyph opened underneath him. “I’ll have enough when I have satisfaction!” Gunther moved between Mark and the group. Mark didn’t care; he continued his compound casting. Weaving spell after spell into the Necromantic relic. “Astral Projection!” “Greater Image!” There was a pause as his face grew pale. The Negative Energy flooding into his body through the Death’s Orb was consuming his life-force. “Commune with Dead!” A vision began to materialise in the space between them into the form of a girl. “Jesus, Jane…” Agnes covered her mouth. “Mark… what have you done?! Oh, Mark, that’s your sister…” Gunther’s jaw clenched with fury and barely constrained anger, his brows knitted. This old ‘mate’ of his Master had gone too far. It was time to put him down. “Mr Chandler,” he intoned with absolute authority. “For exercising forbidden Necromantic practices and entrapping of the soul of a fellow Mage. You are hereby excommunicated from the Tower and marked for Isolation. I suggest you cease your magic at once and come with me peacefully.” The Paladin raised a hand. Give him a second and Mark Chandler would be bereft of his limbs, awakening to a world of exquisite agony. The dabbler of Necromancy would enter a Stasis cell and never again see the face of men until the day of his natural death. “Stand down, Gunther,” Henry commanded. The Radiant Mage regarded his master for a moment before stepping aside. “Let’s see what Mark has to say for himself… and for Elizabeth.” The dark sprite had now coalesced into a solid figure. Jane's audience could see her speak, though her voice came across a half-second later, disjointed and hollow. “Mark… where am I? It hurts! It hurts so much! Return me, return…” “Jane…” Mark began. “Jane, we don’t have much time… tell them how you died.” “Died… I died…” Jane mouthed, her face indistinct. Suddenly she cried out, a guttural, banshee’s screech that went on and on, sending slivers of ice down their spines. It was not a cry that existed in the material plane, for no particles of air had sifted nor moved. It was instead a sound that resonated within their souls, filling them with malice and dread. “Murdered! I was murdered!” “Show me,” Mark commanded in an eldritch voice tainted by the foulness of deathly hallows. He placed a finger in the space between his eyes. The Third-Eye: the seat of a Diviner’s astral vision. “Enter and show me… show them…” Jane had been admiring Elizabeth’s tailored dress uniform when a sudden tremor shook the building, lurching the dining table sideways and sending the tea and cupcakes scattering all over. Outside, a siren blared. The speaker system in the mess hall also began to screech and scream. 'WeeeeeeEEEEEeeeeEEEEEE' A long continuous wail meant the base was under imminent attack. Jane’s eyes widened in horror. She looked towards Elizabeth, whose own lovely face affected a slight furrow of her exquisite brows. “Not a drill, it seems,” she observed worriedly, though not forgetting to finish her tea. “You ever been in combat before? Jane?” “No… never…” Jane swallowed. In a panic, the novice had dropped her cup; shattering the bone-china amongst a smattering of shortcakes. Like her bother, Jane was a Diviner, a caster with little to no offensive or defensive capabilities. “Lizzy! What do I do?” Jane’s eyes were darting to and from with sheer panic. The Acolyte saw the sea rise from the window. Something was moving from the shallows onto the shore, toward the base. A gargantuan tentacle rose into the air, then another and another. A tidal wave of white water washed over the compound. As the water drained, the dark silhouette under the water transformed into an armoured Kraken that towered over their four-storey HQ. “Stay here.” Elizabeth’s voice rang out as she made for the exterior. “This is the only concrete building in the compound. If there’s anything that’s going to withstand that thing’s physical attacks, it’s the HQ. Don’t leave unless you have to.” “Alright…” Jane answered doubtfully, both wishing to stay within the compound as well as enjoy Elizabeth’s protection. There were others here as well, but how could they compare to Elizabeth Sobel, the Hero of the Brisbane Line? Her most ardent desire would have been for Elizabeth to remain in the mess hall, accompanying her. Of course, that was wishful thinking, for her mentor had gone in the next minute. From the safety of the HQ building, Jane watched with growing horror and apprehensions the creature finally made landfall. Mermen were cascading off its back, spilling from some strange interior chamber. There were all kinds, some in the classic humid shape of men with webbed feet and arms, while others were more fish-like or crustacean. Jane paced uncertainly back and forth within the mess. She was on the fourth floor, secure, at least for now. Was Elizabeth right? Should she stay? The Kraken loomed too close for comfort, so much that Jane could hear the sound of fighting. The Diviner had never fought before except in sparring duels at the academy. She had never even seen a monster above tier 2 since her Field Exercise. Her brother had told her that this place was safe, that it was just a two-year milk run. The more she considered her options, the more her mind became a soup of fear and panic. She wasn’t trained for this, or perhaps she was? She didn’t even know. The very thought of facing one of those half-fish, half-man beasts made her puke. 'Crink-Crack!' There was a sound of structure failing under stress. The ceiling began to crumble, the floor to ceiling windows vibrated for a split second before blowing out. A giant tentacle swooshed past the now shattered windows. A shower of glass peppered Jane, sending her crashing onto the floor. She frantically struggled to stand but dug her hands into the fragments that were now all over the carpet. Agonising pain burned across both her palms, her hands and fingers. She cried out for help. For Mark, for Elizabeth, to return and aid her. She looked up. A fish-man was moving toward her! It was shouting something in a guttural tongue, sending out a spray of mucus that smelled strongly of the sea. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. “Jet Blast!” A watery missile materialised from thin air and struck the creature, pushing it back through the window. One Evocation spell was all Jane could manage, for already Jane felt her mind straining with her use of an unschooled Sigil. Any more and she would be retching all over the floor, incapacitating herself. Another creature appeared from the window, having scaled the walls on its suctioned feet. “No! No! No!” Jane uttered bewilderingly, waving her hands to muster another spell. Motes of water mana churned but no phenomena manifested. Jane felt a wave of dizziness overwhelm her, sending her to her knees. The half-lobster mermen bowled her over and pushed her onto the floor, pinning her arms. The thing likely wanted to capture her for some nefarious purpose. “Mark!” Jane cried out. “Lizzy! Somebody!” Her answer came in the form of a bolt of darkness cutting across the room. When it had struck, most of the Mermen was gone. Only stumpy claws holding Jane onto the floor remained. “Elizabeth! You came! Thank god!” Jane rolled onto her elbows, doing her best not to puke from the smell of desiccating prawn. “What was that spell? It was magnificent!” Elizabeth didn’t answer. Instead, she stumbled towards Jane and ran into her bodily. Jane could see that Elizabeth's face was deathly pale, that she was bleeding from her right arm. “Lizzy! You’re injured! I… I'll find a medic…” “Get out of here!” Elizabeth took Jane’s arm and pulled her toward the window. Jane resisted, but even in her frail state, Elizabeth had overpowered her. Jane screamed. They leapt. They jumped from the fourth storey just as another tentacle struck the side of the building, sending out a spiderweb of fissures across crumbling concrete. “Feather Fall!” The two of them slowed their descent, but still, they landed heavily. Elizabeth’s rushed invocation couldn't cover for both of them. With a heavy thud, they stuck the pavement below, and down Elizabeth went. “Liz! Are you okay? Oh my God…” Elizabeth’s dress uniform had come with unfortunately tall heels. She landed awkwardly, and now her ankle was twisted in a disturbing direction. Jane watched as Elizabeth grunted, her face turning even paler than before. Her fingers dug into Jane's arm with enough force to draw blood. “Someone! Help!” Jane shrieked into the chaos. Cadets and Officers were running like headless chickens all over the place. Some were trying to flee; others tried to fight. Thankfully, a blonde-haired youth ran up and helped Elizabeth to her feet, hopping on her good leg. From above came the sound of something whooshing through the air, crashing into the building and the wall behind them. They looked up to see a purple-pink tentacle slither away, leaving behind a mess of human flesh, crushed into smithereens against the concrete HQ. Jane screamed. She screamed and screamed; frozen to the spot. Elizabeth swore. Jane glanced up and saw a silhouette loom over them. The writhing mass of the Kraken was now upon them. “It’s seen us!” Elizabeth shouted and tried to move. Even with the cadet’s help, she couldn’t move fast enough. The Air Evoker cursed. She commanded the cadet to turn her around. Jane helped, bracing Elizabeth’s other arm. “Blade of Wind!” Elizabeth threw up a hand. The tier 6 Evocation hacked into their assailant. 'Thump!' A massive tentacle landed not far from them, sliced clean off it’s now oozing stump. There was a sound of thunder as the creature raged, the ground shook violently. “Well fudge, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s twice as pissed now.” Elizabeth remarked despairingly; her comely face pale, drained, deathly. Without warning, the blonde Cadet dropped Elizabeth. He ducked under her arm, allowing her to fall, then ran for it. Elizabeth fell awkwardly onto the floor and crumpled into a heap, screaming as her broken ankle hammered the tarmac. Behind them, the cadet scampered past a fence, fleeing toward the uncertain shelter of the woods. “Fuck! You ingrate asshole!” Elizabeth shrieked at him. Jane was shaking now, her whole body buzzing with fright and hysteria. She saw Elizabeth turn to her. Something dark grip her heart, something full of yellow venom and selfish purpose. “Jane…” Elizabeth began. "Don't-" Jane ran. She ran and ran and ran. Behind her, Elizabeth was saying something indistinct, but Jane could no longer hear it. “I am sorry… I am sorry Liz… I am sorry… please make it. Please survive…” She ran. She fell, she got up, she staggered on. She didn’t even feel the pain from her palms anymore. She just wanted to get away from the sea, from the monster, from the mermen, from Elizabeth. Don’t look back! She told herself. You mustn’t look back. Sickening sounds of destruction resounded from behind: wails of pain and horror both human and mermen. An explosion rocked the base. Something had set off the mana crystals in the depot. Jane hastened her pace, but the shockwave was too quick. It caught her in the next few seconds, sending her tumbling through the air, thrashing her flailing limbs against the asphalt. When she re-orientated herself from the tumbling, she realised she was facing the wrong way. She was facing the ocean. She was looking back. Her face blanched, the blood drained from every inch of her skin. Her eyes began to bulge, then bleed. Jane began to whimper and cry. “Oh, Liz… oh, Lizzy, save me. Save me…” she moaned incoherently. “I don’t want to die… I want to see Mark…” A miracle imposed itself atop the girl's gibbering figure. A solar eclipse. A dark sun, a shadow of a shadow consuming all light, drinking up the world. Tendrils of darkness, tipped with lamprey's lips, reached out from its centre, seemingly ignoring the distance and space. Jane watched in horror as one of them seemed to find her instantaneously. She felt the cold dark invade her skin, digging into her body, lifting her from the ground. The tendril effortless sliced through her non-existent mana Shield, through her uniform, slicing into her torso and legs, bleeding her. “Arrrgh… Ah-ah… N-No, no, no…” Jane was mewing like a babe, her face a grotesque mask of pain and agony. The gathering watched agog as the vision continued to manifest. A dark sun bloomed in Jane’s vision: draining all light, all life. The Merfolk, the NoMs, the Mages, all were caught in it’s embrace. It took in everything, friends, enemies, trees, grass, bits of concrete, even water from the sea. With each thing it consumed, it seemed to grow larger, bigger, more powerful. Dark miasma poured from its centre, forming long shadowy tendrils. Darker then black, they extended through the air, picking through the flotsam and jetsam for nourishing sweetmeats. Jane cried out in horror. She rose into the air, weaker and weaker, higher and higher. When Jane had floated close enough to the centre of the dark sun, they saw. They all saw. Two women were silhouetted side by side: a ghastly parallel of the two women having tea only an hour earlier. There was no cakes and ices this time. Jane's body was a bloody mess, while a tenebrous miasma scattered from Elizabeth's body like fog rolling off a cold mountain. They saw Jane’s unfocused dark eyes meet with Elizabeth’s irises of baby-blue, whose innocence betrayed no particular emotion. Elizabeth’s thin white legs extended from the churning shadows swirling across her body. Obsidian black and starkly white, a goddess of deified death. "Lizzy..." Jane moaned, crying and sobbing, blood and tears pouring from her bulging eyes in equal measure. "Lizzy it hurts... it hurts so bad..." Elizabeth gazed upon Jane without an iota of sympathy. “Silly girl… you needn’t have died. You had nothing I wanted. You were useless…” “Please… spare me…” “You should have stayed a moment longer. I was telling you to run you know, playing the big sister.” “Please… please, Lizzy!” They watched Elizabeth force a hand under Jane’s ribs, piercing her chest in one swift, bloody motion. “Now look at what you made me do...” The vision ended. Mark tore himself away from the Orb, falling to the floor, gasping for breath. When he raised his face again, he looked older, far older, as though he had aged a decade. “Do you understand now?!” Mark uttered between clenched teeth. “This was your precious wife! I spent twenty years to uncover the truth! A decade to track down an Orb, and another decade to learn to use it! Did you know what I had to give, to trade, to find my sister’s soul?” Henry’s pallor was paler than it had ever been. His wife - his poor Elizabeth. She hadn’t turned into a monster. She was a monster from the beginning. All it took was a single crisis; then the undertow took her. Gwen recovered herself from the overload of emotion and information. There was so much there, so many answers, but still, she felt that Mark had left an important question unanswered. “Well, do you have your satisfaction now, Mark?” She tried to keep her voice level and measured. “That still doesn’t explain why you sent me into that hell-hole to suffer, what could you gain from that? More satisfaction? Was it to see my Master suffer humiliation? Is it because I am a Void Mage that you wanted me defiled and betrayed?” Mark laughed: a burst of insane, hysterical laughter. “We always save the best for last, no?” he said to Gwen, grinning maniacally. He turned to Henry. “Your wife is still alive and kicking.” Henry suddenly stood, his face a mask of anger and fury. Surya did likewise, his expression full of indignation for his friend. Agnes simply held a hand to her mouth in shock horror. It was madness, complete madness. Mark was consumed by it, by holding onto that secret and letting it fester in his chest, it fed on him, ate the man they had once known. “You think me mad, don’t you?” Mark demanded, his eyes glowing with excitement. He stopped talking suddenly and gloatingly gazed at Henry. “Whose soul did you think I attempt to raise at first?! Ha! It was Elizabeth! The woman I hated more than anything in the world! Why raise my sister, subject her to such soul rendering agony, when I could have truth and satisfaction in one fell swoop?! BUT do you know what happened? You know what happened when I tried?” “She wasn’t there! Her Astral Soul had never untethered from her body! I may be a fledging Necromancer, but even I know that you can’t raise the soul of a being who hasn’t died!” “Master…” Gunther stepped between Mark and Henry, cutting him off abruptly. “Perhaps it is best to end it right here and now. What good would more secrets serve? What’s done is done. We need to look to the future. This Necromancer was as good as dead the moment he trapped a human soul within that Orb. Gwen too should be free of his insanity." As if sensing the end is nigh, Mark suddenly began to speak with great haste; a torrent of words poured from his mouth. His eyes were wild, his face contorted with the ecstasy of the reveal. All these years, all these years and now he had finally proven to Henry that he was wrong, that Elizabeth was responsible, that she was a monster and they were all fools! There was just one more step. One more step! “I always knew, I just knew that Elizabeth had been up to something, but I could never figure it out. Let me remind all of you of that final climax, what had she said? You had nothing I wanted. What had she wanted? What could have she have wanted?” Mark pointed to Gwen with an accusing finger. Her heart leapt to her throat in an instant. “There’s your answer! At first, I couldn’t prove it! I couldn’t prove what Elizabeth wanted. Then you, Henry, sent me your apprentice! How fortuitous! How foolish! I couldn’t believe it when you told me that she was a Void mage! Is it poetic justice? I couldn’t believe my luck. Were you trying to repeat the past? You can’t repeat the past old friend! You can’t! All you sent me was proof! I couldn’t prove my theory, but with Gwen… with another Void Mage, I could! Your apprentice had killed a dozen Mages - I have… I have their dossiers here… see! Look!” He pounced on the papers: pictures, files, records scattered all over. “Put her in the Chamber, Henry! Put her in and you’ll- you’ll know why Elizabeth is still alive! Ha! You were all wrong! My poor Jane, if you hadn’t covered it up, Henry! if…” Then Mark was suddenly silent. Without even incanting a spell, Gunther had reached across between them with his long arm, caught Mark by the hair, then slammed his head against the heavy oaken table. Mark’s body fell to the floor wetly like a sack of slack potatoes. “Master.” Gunther knelt. “I take full responsibilities." Henry’s eyes rose from Mark’s body. He nodded gently and patted Gunther’s shoulder. His Apprentice was right; this farce had gone on long enough. “Magus Mark Chandler is to be placed under indefinite quarantine,” the Magister spoke, gaining a measure of strength with every uttered word. “What say you?” Gwen and Debra had nothing to say; their opinions counted for nothing. Surya inclined his head imperceptibly. Agnes looked away, unable to find the words. “Good. Gunther. If you please.” “Levitation!” Gunther hoisted his human cargo with one hand. “I am returning to the Tower, Master.” He bowed. “I’ll send a clean-up crew within the hour.” Henry nodded toward his eldest Apprentice before turning to his youngest one. “Gwen…” he began. Gwen felt her heart lurch, at this rate, she was sure to develop an early arrhythmia. “It's time we discussed your future.”

**Schools of Magic** **Evocation** is a school that manipulate energy. It was also the most commonly awakened school of Spellcraft. These mages become the mainstay of the citizen-soldiers, wielding spells of fire, earth, water, and more exotic elements such as lightning or radiance. As Evokers grow, they become more specialise in their elemental affinity, taking up specialist equipment and enchantments, attunement and contracts. In the popular eye, the Evoker is the archetype Mage, the spell slinging, fireball blasting Sorcerer of yore, tapping into and drawing limitless power from the elemental planes. **Abjuration** casters weaved spells that protected, blocked or banished. An Abjurer is a common but highly sought after profession. They were the mainstay of the protective barrier shells that shielded Human cities. An Abjurer possesses the special ability to also utilises restoration spells and a number of AOE combat buffs. Specialists in this field typically contracted elementals of earth, ice, and water, with exceptional individuals possessing more exotic quasi-elementals. **Conjuration** is a school that materialises creatures or materials for the caster. A Conjurer is a one man army when trained to a sufficeint tier of proficiency. Through contracting magical creatures Conjurers gain life-long companions that grow with the Mage in power. Due to this advantage, it is not uncommon for Summoners to become several magnitudes more powerful than Mages of equal tier. The disadvantage of Conjuration is the persistent mana drain caused by most of its sustained effect spells. Certain Conjurers choose to focus upon the summoning of items or beings. These valuable individuals are responsible for the Teleportation Circles around the cities. **Divination** is a school that reveals information, highly prized for their cognisant abilities in detection and foretelling. Many diviners go on to become telecommunication specialists, becoming key intelligence and strategist operatives that served a number of roles. Other schools of Divination focused on disaster deterrence, by reading the threads of time and fate. Despite their lack of offensive capabilities, it is said that the most influential Magi on the U.N Security Council is the Oracle of the Acropolis. Though the Divination school has no preference for elemental afflictions, it is a school that synnergies well with subsequent studies of other schools. Many Diviners go on to become Magus or Magister. The school of **Enchantment** remains the most difficult and expensive to train of all schools. Capable of imbuing items and buildings with protection, strengthening items and imbuing persist phenomena - enchanters are essential to humanity’s existence. The world's most successful manufatoriums are all operated by skilled Enchanters. Unlike regular Mages, enchanters seeks specifically the mastering of additional schools such as Transmutation or Abjuration for the creation of magical items. A dangerous school within-a-school of Enchanters are those whose abilities allow them to control, manipulate, and glamour the minds of others. These Mages are closely watched by government forces, and the misuse of mind-altering effects on others could lead to life-time imprisonment or banishment. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. **Illusion** is the school of Mirage, the altering of perceptions to create false visions. Many Illusionists go on to become involved in espionage if they choose the path of the militant. Many others however, have chosen to be involved in the media, creating spectacles for adoring audiences, crafting impossible scenarios, and even becoming superstars in their own right for their creativity and passion. Illusion spells which deal damage attack the mind directly, creating what is known as psychic attacks. Likewise, aftereffects vary by spell and intent. **Transmutation** is an unusual school in that it changes the caster and the objects they touch, manipulating the properties in powerful ways. In the greater world, Transmuters become builders, architects and creators, working hand in glove with Enchanters. In combat, some transmuters choose to specialise in manipulating life itself, changing plants, creatures, and even themselves to become deadly and proficient in the art of war. It is said that Transmuters posses the most versatile school of all , and enjoyed the most lauded status after that of Evokers. The dreaded School of **Necromancy** was banned after WWI following the Geneva Convention. Currently, the school is studied only by sects that are authorised by the U.N, having proven that the study of souls and the afterlife is intimately connected to beliefs of faith, culture, and religion. The irony of the matter is that Necromancy is most likely the most ancient school of magic that exist. Dating back to the Egyptian Pharaohs, in an age when man first uncovered magic. As such, it is more specific to say that the summoning, raising, and animation of the death is strictly forbidden, as much of the world was turned into ash and cinder following The Great War with the No-Life Kings of Middle Europe. Finally, other schools of magic likely exist, but lay out of reach of the common man. These include various forms of item deification, ancestral worship, old world shamanism, naturalism, animalism, and so forth. By the same measure, rumours about of humans learning the magic of monsters, magical beings, and demi-humanoids. These are seldom taught or learned in Frontier Human cities though. **Character Summary**

“We can talk in the grot,” Henry intoned kindly before giving Gwen’s hands a reassuring, fatherly pat. “There is much to discuss.” The remaining members of the conference glanced at the empty desk, grimly reminding the party that they were now missing Mark and Gunther. Unexpectedly, Henry turned to Debora. Gwen's classmate grew instantly rigid the moment the Magister's attention lingered, gripping Gwen’s arm a little tighter. It was an understandable reaction; for who wouldn’t be stunned by the full attention of Henry Kilroy, Head of the Ten, Master of the Sydney Tower? He was a legend, a rumour, a personage she had only seen in the newspapers, and now he was addressing her directly. “Debora, was it?” “Yessir!” Debora answered, she left Gwen's arm and stood ramrod straight, unsure if to bow or salute. “Debora Jones, first… soon to be second-year at Blackwattle Academy, Sir.” “No need to be so nervous, Debora.” Henry likewise patted her on the shoulder. The Earthen Mage appeared as though Gwen had struck her with another discharge of static. I know that look well. Gwen observed. Debora was starstruck, as she had been, to be interacting with a Magister, one of the most powerful Mages in the nation. “You have been party to some rather unsavoury secrets, Debora. Including Gwen’s relationship with me,” Henry began, causing a cold sweat to break out over Gwen’s brow. “As a result, I fear I have no choice but…” “Master!” Gwen interjected nervously. They had just seen Mark hauled off like a side of beef. Perhaps her master’s blood was still up, feeling protective and paranoid from all that he had just witnessed? “I am sorry Sir, but… please, please spare Debora. Mayhap a Geas spell or a compulsion? Or-or a tracking ring? She is innocent. I mean, Opa carelessly brought her! If anything, he should take responsibility!” Surya appeared wounded, his face a mask of sorrow. Henry performed a double-take before he began to chuckle. Surya joined him a moment later, their jovial mood upsetting the tension that had overtaken the conversation. “Gwen… I was going to say that I have no choice… but to trust her in this matter, trust in her judgement, her ability to keep a secret.” “Ah- Of course, Master. ” Gwen felt instant relief wash over her, flushing a bright red. Beside her, the blood returned to Debora's face. “Can we trust you? Debora Jones?” Henry’s tone took on a more serious slant. The question was rhetorical of course. What would a girl, whose father and mother were middle- class Transmuters, do against the request made by the highest power in the land? Refusing was out of the question, as were any glib or uncertain answers. Not abiding by the agreement was likewise suicide. The Tower was the highest authority on matters of the magic, overriding even the Frontier Government, including its Senate. Who could Debora turn to, if she wanted to reveal the truth to the world? She would evaporate, disappear, cease to exist overnight, just like Mark Chandler. Debora nodded furiously. “Yessir! You can trust me, Sir!” She added another Sir just in case. One could never have too many Sirs when addressing someone like Henry. “Very good. You may go with Surya. Rest assured, you and Gwen will see each other soon enough.” Debora moved away from Gwen reluctantly, taking a position behind her Instructor, Surya. “I’ll see you back at the ranch, Gwen.” Surya waved at his granddaughter. “See you later Opa.” The remaining three watched them depart, their eyes following the bony old man and the tall, athletic girl as they disappeared. Henry turned to the last remaining member of their erstwhile companionship. “Agnes, I am sorry you had to experience all of that.” “I am sorry too, Henry,” Agnes repined. With the incarceration of Mark came the death of their three-decade-long fellowship. Now, she could no longer speak with Surya nor Henry, knowing that by their will and intent, Mark was rotting away in a cell somewhere for the rest of his natural life. “May I go now?” She framed her question with caution and aversion, indicating her desired distance. Henry’s expression grew sullen; his sympathy died in his throat. “You may go, Agnes.” “Goodbye, old friend.” The Evoker left. Only Gwen and Sufina now remained. The dryad flittered about here and there without a care, examine curios that Mark had left behind. “Shall we?” Henry made an effort to stand. Gwen moved beside him, slipped her arm under her Master's shoulder, aiding his movement. Her Master's arm felt far frailer than her grandfather's. Where Surya was all cord and cable, Henry's was more akin to a dried out branch. She wasn't sure if he required her help, but the effort seemed to please Sufina. The two of them proceeded arm in arm down the narrow stairs towards the Teleportation chamber in the basement. They stopped by Alesia’s apartment first. Gwen had been soiled by her misadventure, her dress torn here and there, her nails matted with dried blood. If they teleported into the Tower like that, tongues would be wagging, and lascivious rumours would travel the circumference of Oceania before they reached the levitation lifts. Henry took a catnap while Gwen quickly showered and changed. Alesia was away with Yue, training her new apprentice in the art of ruin and destruction. Wishing haste, Gwen took the first item on the pile: a merlot spaghetti-strap dress, then slipped into a white cardigan, finally swapping out her tattered Mary-Janes for a pair of pumped sandals. Washing the dust and blood from her hair, she rolled her fringe to one side and was back to her usual regal self. Once outside, Henry commented that Gwen made good use of Alesia's rather monotonous choice of wardrobe. The two joked teasingly at Alesia's spending of her monthly stipend on perishable items of clothing, despite the existence of flame-attuned uniforms, The two then returned to the secret chamber below, where the Teleportation Circle flared silver and white, distorting space and distance. Without Alesia’s presence, the guards were far friendlier. A few of them greeted Gwen and introduced themselves, keenly interested in the tall and lovely girl that seemed to have the Magister’s eye. Prior, she had frequented the Tower to see the Magister during her three months of training. Now, she was considered more or less a standard feature of the Tower Master's itinerary. Though the guards had no clue as to how she associated with the Magister, they could see from the manner of her filial intimacy that the two were close. Was she a relative? Perhaps the daughter of a well-connected acquaintance, or maybe, something of a companion? It didn’t matter to the guards, themselves Apprentices and Mages in training under various Factions. They were polite to her, and she was amicable to them. If she could curry favour for them in exchange for services rendered, it worked for the betterment for all. The guards made smalltalk with Gwen as the levitation platform thrummed, complementing her with words of admiration. They introduced themselves as Williams and McKinsey, offering Gwen their services with bright, hopeful eyes. Henry nodded at the two young men as he and Gwen alighted the platform. The grot remained timeless and unchanged. A mossy clearing with dappled sunlight, alternating between the seasons as Sufina’s moods shifted. The moment they reentered the pocket space, Henry's back stood straighter, his head held higher. By the time they had made the walk to the central chamber, he was back to his spritely old self, an ageing professor looking smart in his tweed jacket and cashmere vest. They found a place under Sufina’s heart tree, where a slight cross-breeze brought summer smells. Sufina wrapped her arms around Gwen, affecting a sound of shivering leaves as the dryad took in her scent. “You still have the Serpent’s life-force on you,” Sufina noted with great pleasure. “It’s vibrant and rich. I love it. I wonder how long it will last?” A set of garden furniture grew around them as Sufina played the maid, returning to them with a stack of manna bread, two crystal glasses and a decanter of her famous Golden Mead. Henry waited until Gwen had settled into the elfin garden chair with its elegant curves and leafy woodwork. Gwen crossed her long legs comfortably, tucking an ankle behind a soft, mossy chair leg. Henry raised a glass, and Gwen met him half-way with a clink. She took a quick sip and felt the revitalising energy of the mead suffuse her weary mind. They made more small talk, some Spellcraft theory here and there, a few anecdotes about Surya's scandalous sculptures; easing into the weight of their conversation. “Gwen, how do you feel right now?” Henry finally began, starting with a simple question to test the waters. It was a loaded question, and Gwen felt the need for measured answers. After all, she had just witnessed a man dragged away to be incarcerated for the entirety of his natural lifespan. The stories of the last few hours had informed Gwen about much of her Master’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. He was a sentimentalist, an idealist and a romantic. As a leader he was a man of the middle path, dreaming of an improbable balance between power and accountability. As a companion, he was trusting and honourable, collected and composed. As a teacher, he was experienced beyond measure, an able teacher who produced two peerless proteges. As an arbitrator, Henry was relentless, capable of putting aside his emotions, even for the woman he loved more than anything in the world. If Henry had a flaw, it would be his preference for patience even in matters of urgency. So how should she approach their ‘talk’? Her master's silence had gifted her time to ponder her options. According to the sordid chronicle of Elizabeth, Gwen possessed an element that would inevitably invade and corrupt the mind of the user. To Gwen however, the revelation merely pointed to the fact that the war itself might have unhinged Elizabeth. Depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder were common symptoms which plagued the war-weary of her world. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. It was shocking to her to know that in this world, where death in the service of survival was commonplace, there was no such thing as psychology clinicians. Here, the treatment of mental health never seemed to have progressed past the apathy of The Great War. There were no Pavlov, Skinner, Jung, and Maslow to explain the inner world to the traumatised survivors of horrors both natural and supernatural. If there were, they'd be sanctioned Mind-Mages, offering no balms for the inflamed mind. She was out of time. "Guilty," she replied, ending the silence between them. "I could feel my victim's cries knock against my heart when Caliban's mind rejoined my own. I even felt empathy for Bozza and Farez, the slavers, even though Gunther was trying to teach me the dangers of careless mercy and naivety." The frankness surprised Henry, but other than a gradual raising of the brow, her master's eyes betrayed nothing. "I see..." Henry mulled over her words. "How do you feel about Mark? His accusation?" Another loaded question, Gwen thought. "Angry, indignant," Gwen stressed her vowels. "I don't wish to offend, Master, but I am not Elizabeth." "No, you are not." To her surprise, her Master smirked. "You told me once, Gwen, that the abuse of Greatness is when remorse is disjointed from power. Do you feel... remorse, Gwen?" Gwen considered it. She couldn't be the perfect sociopathic combat Mage nor a perfect inquisitorial agent like Gunther. She couldn't even be ruthless, doubtless battering ram like Alesia. "I do, Master," She confessed, laying it out there with a sense of come what may. "I find no pleasure in harming others. I find scant desire in taking the lives of my enemies." Henry tapped the table thoughtfully. "What of your Credo, Gwen? Had you not wanted the power to punish those who would wrong you? To harry the foxes, frighten the wolves, and slaughter the tigers?” "Perhaps not so much the slaughtering, Master." Henry chuckled, the girl was more mature than he'd anticipated. "A pacifist then? A rare bird in these dark and winding woods, Gwen. A dangerous choice." "The woods are dark and deep, Master, but I have to walk my Path, even if it's a road not taken." "The road less taken can easily lead you astray, Gwen, perhaps to a precipice... Do you know what lies at the end of that Path?" "I don't know, Master, but I have to try. To accept that I would be a killer... that's - impossible for me." Gwen shook her head, her voice trembling. Perhaps she was revealing too much of herself? What if her Master saw her pacifism as a dire weakness? What if he chose to abandon her? Was the loathing of murder a weakness though? Was it not Gandhi who said that there was not a single cause he would kill for, and yet overturned four centuries of colonisation? Was it not Socrates, whose wisdom built the modern Republic, who said that one ought not to do evil, no matter what the suffering? Perhaps that was too excessive; this was not a world where men could negotiate with the forces that threatened them. But surely, against one's fellow man, as a shared condition of survival, there were grounds for men to show mercy and compassion to kin and kind. If anything, her old world had proved that it was possible. "Do you want to be a pacifist, Gwen? How do you hope to survive without harming your enemies?" Her Master's voice was becoming sterner. There was an edge of criticism to it now. Gwen's thoughts raced through her memories. She recalled the grand conclusions reached by men who were responsible for splitting the atom, for engineering the end of human civilisation on earth. The context was a little off, but it would have to do. "I do not wish to be merely a pacifist, Master," Gwen spoke carefully, her voice measured and vibrant. "I am saying that I wish to be a Militant Pacifist. I am willing to fight for my pacifism. For the only way to end violence, is for our enemies to refuse violence themselves." The oxymoronic logos caught Henry off-guard. He stared at her with an expression of bemusement before the words slowly digested. "You want to be so powerful... that your enemies quake and shudder at the very thought of war?" Gwen smiled coyly. "Is that not how the Mermen and the Saurian conflict ended, Master? Peaceful co-existence for the next three decades?" Henry suddenly snorted, slapping his knees. "You're right!" He laughed, a burst of rip-roaring laughter uncharacteristically stretching his usually stern face. "The path of Militant Pacifism! Ha! What a strange and twisted mind you have!" He tapped the table excitedly. "No killing then?" he questioned. "No unnecessary killing, Master.” “What would you call your Path then?” "It is Humanism, Master, the Path of the Humane." Henry mulled overt Gwen's rather unusual Credo. "What if you find yourself again in the same circumstance, Gwen? About to be violated or harmed. Would you again show careless mercy?" Gwen was ready; she wasn't about to dismiss the hard lesson from Gunther. "We must be cruel to be kind, Master," she answered with the words of wiser men. "How wonderfully complex that answer is!” Henry allowed his mind to have the slow luxury of abstracting her logic. "What of Noblesse Oblige? For the NoMs, I mean." "I cannot begrudge those whose most distant horizons are tomorrow. Not when so many of their problems can be resolved by bread, water, and shelter,” Gwen answered smartly. “They will have their part to play, as do we. If possible, I would like to build a world wheres NoMs are just as important, no different from Mages.” "I see... A noble goal." They then spoke of her experiences in the Slums, of the condition of NoMs, what she had seen. Ultimately, the conversation arrived at its predestined topic. "How you do feel about Caliban then?" her master asked suddenly. Gwen swallowed a little nervously. "I am... afraid of it, Master." Henry nodded sagely. "I see... I see. Do you mind bringing out your familiars? Ariel first, if you could." Gwen incanted the spell for Conjuring her familiar. Ariel appeared on the table in its passive form. Henry reached out and ticked the creature's fur, sending out sparks of static. "EEee! EEee!" Ariel rubbed its snout on his hand. It made a begging motion with its paws, first towards Gwen, then towards Henry. "Are you afraid of Ariel?" Henry asked, producing an HDM crystal, watching the marten stuffing itself, its cheeks puffed with mana. "No," Gwen admitted. "Why?" Henry asked softly. Gwen considered Henry's question. The obvious answer was that Ariel wasn't a thousand-young horror, but that was sophistry. "I am... not sure," Gwen mumbled."Perhaps it is because Ariel listens, and I feel in control.” "Does Caliban not listen?" Gwen shook her head. Caliban did listen to her, even in the heat of battle it had done so. It was her fault that Caliban had 'leaked' out, she was the weak one, not Caliban. "Then what's the problem?" "It's the Void magic, Master... Caliban induces in me an unyielding hunger. I feel it enticing me, demanding that I satiate it, yet the more I fed it, the hungrier I become." "A question of temptation then," Henry nodded. "A test my wife failed horribly. What are your thoughts then? Would you cease using Void magic entirely?" The honest answer was self-evident, but Gwen struggled to find the right words. "Caliban is essential if you wish to embark upon the path you have chosen," Henry added. He could feel Gwen's dismay, taste her hesitation. The girl was too obsessed with the right answers; for all her wisdom, she didn't know that in life, correct answers were scarce indeed. "Bring out Caliban, Gwen." "Caliban..." Gwen winced as the vitality drained from her, drinking the blood from her pink cheeks. The serpent appeared from the nether space of the void, landing with a thump on the mossy floor. Instantly, the vibrant moss wilted and died, leaving behind a patch of brown and black. It reared its head, scanning the room and sniffing the air. "Hiss! Hiss!" It uttered, slithering toward Gwen joyously. Gwen's body stiffened with revulsion. Seemingly sensing her hesitation, Caliban stopped apprehensively, looking wounded by its master's rejection. "Caliban, over here." Henry produced an HDM Crystal and waved the sparkling stone before it. The creature wanted to leap toward it immediately but hesitated when no consent came from Gwen. "It's fine, Gwen." Caliban slithered onto the table, leaving behind a trail of wilting, desolated wood. To Gwen's astonishment, Henry placed his hands upon Caliban's smooth exterior. There was a sizzle as his flesh made contact, acrid black smoke rose into the air. Gwen almost called out, but Henry's hard, grey eyes met her own. "Calm your emotions, control your fear, don’t let your weakness bleed into Caliban.” Gwen exhaled deeply. The sizzling ceased. Caliban's presence no longer ate into the living wood. Her Master was right, how could he not be? He was a Magister level Conjurer. He was right; the weakness was Gwen's. "Good." "Do you fear it still?" Gwen considered the sleek and dark creature before her; its carapace had split to reveal a lamprey's mouth, now busily slurping at the crystal. "Less so," Gwen confessed, her heart wincing as Sufina’s positive energy slowly healed Henry's fingers. Caliban looked at Sufina with great interest, flicking its tongue. Sufina winked at the creature. "There is always a temptation in possessing great power, Gwen. The more potent the source, the more it tempts you to use it. Do you believe Sufina powerful?" Gwen nodded. "Do you know how powerful she is?" Gwen did not. Henry smiled sagely. "Allow me a quick demonstration. Sufina, if you please." The gathering turned to observe their Dryad maid. Ariel cocked its furry snout, Caliban hissed, Gwen swallowed another gulp of mead. Suddenly, Sufina's face turned cruel. Her smooth skin erupted in thorns and barbs, her body elongating into a nightmarish shambler covered with malevolent vines that writhed and churned, baying for violence. A terrifying sight. Ariel and Caliban both began to bark and hiss, moving in front of Gwen to defend her against this uncertain foe. "Force of Nature!" Henry invoked, charging Sufina with a distinct cocktail of primary elements only he possessed. Suddenly, the Dyrad was everywhere. She expanded massively, almost filling up the entire chamber. Her form was no longer even that of a terrifying hag but something inhuman. She became a shambling behemoth, where she stood, the mist of deep swamps and dark forests cascaded from innumerable fishhook barbs grown from numberless vines. From a tenebrous mass, two glowing eyes stared out, her gaze as pitiless as the blistering sun. To Gwen, the power and pressure she exerted, was insane. Her face and lips grew as pale as sheets, her feet cold and frozen, her arms arrested to either side. Ariel cowered and whimpered, suddenly turning over on its belly and tried to play dead. Caliban shrunk its profile closer to the floor, coiling to strike. Unlike Ariel, it had known no existence before its summoning - it felt no terror, knew no fear. So long as Gwen was alive, it could exist again. "Sufina, enough." Sufina shrunk, now once against a shy maiden, albeit brushing off dangerous, razor-sharp thorns from her leafy dress. She gave them a reassuring smile, her sparkling gemstone eyes twinkling. "Are you afraid of Sufina?" Gwen nodded, then shook her head. "A valiant defence, Caliban," Henry complemented the serpent, throwing it another crystal. Ariel rolled over guiltily and begged at Gwen's feet with both paws upon her knees. Gwen patted its fur, feeling its remorse through their Empathic-Link. Caliban raised its head smugly, rearing its head and wagging its tail. Gwen reached out gingerly; the serpent coiled around her leg, finding purchase on her calves before crawling into her lap. Its cold touch was ticklish, like ice dabbed against one’s skin. It rubbed its cheeks on her hand, the opening around its forehead carapace leaving a snail-trail of grey fluid across her fingers. "It is a good Path you have chosen, Gwen, but you cannot walk it alone. You will need allies. Ariel and Caliban of course, but also others who would support you. You will need friends, family, advisors and associates. It is not your spells that you need to fear, but the isolation brought by its abuse." "The Spell of the hand," Gwen pondered aloud. "Against the Spell of the heart... I will try, Master." For a second Gwen wondered if Henry would interject with 'Do. Or do not. There is no try.' but the old Master merely nodded affirmatively. "Gwen," her Master's next words took on quiet solemnity. "Please accept my apologies for what happened with Mark..." Gwen awoke from her inner dialogue with a start. "Master, you shouldn't have to!" she interjected. Sure, it was poor judgement on Henry's part, but who could have known Mark's madness? "Oh, but I must." Henry's voice possessed a painful note. "I am afraid I sent you to him with selfish designs." "Master?" "You see Gwen - until Mark had told me the truth, I hadn't truly understood why I was so eager to take you on, why I felt such a desire to mound and shape your Path." "Sir..." "Let me finish." He waved a hand in front of her. "You see, Mark was right. I did want to repeat the past. A part of me always wondered what would have happened if I had stopped Elizabeth - if I had recognised her weakness, her suffering. I guess when I saw you Awaken to the Void in that chamber, I saw it as my redemption, to resolve a past I hadn't truly understood." He took a deep breath. "Can you... forgive an old man for doing such a selfish thing?" Gwen placed a slender hand on top of Henry's own, feeling his paper-like skin. "I forgive you, Master..." Gwen said earnestly. She was angry at first of course, beyond indignant, but her anger had been anaesthetised by Marks maniacal face, his spittle-charged gloating, his slump body as Gunther took him away like a leg of lamb. He who hunts monsters should beware - the old aphorism offered a good lesson. “I will not fall to the hunger like Elizabeth. Master, you have my word.” Henry nodded appreciatively, seemingly having reached another conclusion. "Would you like to know what Mark meant? What he was accusing you of?" Gwen felt her throat constrict slightly; she had an inkling as to what Mark suspected. Did she want to know? Gwen did. She would prefer to be armed with knowledge than flee from its burden.

“You are certain?” Henry asked again. “If my suspicions are correct, then there is no turning back from this, Gwen. There will be no shield of ignorance left to protect you from the full force of temptation. Caliban's supernatural hunger would hardly compare to what allure this knowledge could hold.” 'I won't turn from knowledge, Master." Henry drained the last of his mead. “Then let us proceed to the Greater Cognisance Chamber.” The same guards were on the platform as when they had left, enviously appraising Gwen’s luck to be visiting the chamber with a mentor the magnitude of the one of the Ten. Toward her 'Seniors', Gwen acted both coy and friendly, the three of them sharing pleasant banter while Henry kept himself occupied by meditating. “They like you,” Henry noted when they stepped into the privacy of the Chamber. “You could do well here if you choose to return after your studies. The Tower always needs young blood. Oceania is a volatile region.” “I’ll consider it, Master.” Gwen smiled anxiously, she would worry about her future after her moment of truth. With a thrum, the Chamber activated. Gwen stepped into the centre as the glyphs completed their arcane circuits. Below her sandals, her Astral Soul projected outwards, the entire floor becoming a mirror plane splitting the material world above and the Astral world below. Henry proceeded in a perimeter around Gwen, muttering to himself as he did so. “Try to activate the Sigils as I call them out, Gwen.” “Yes, Master.” Her heart pounded. What was Mark so interested in and what had he uncovered regarding Elizabeth Sobel? Her illusory Astral Body was alluring as usual, a delicate art sculpture of the female form with long and elegant limbs, radiating motes of light and darkness that alternatively expanded, then consumed one another. “Evocation.” Gwen channelled mana through her conduits. The sigil of Evocation blazed before her, brighter than she recalled. “Your proficiency has yet again improved, Gwen. Making good progress towards tier 4.” “That’s…” Gwen felt a dark premonition begin to rise from the back of her mind. “That’s impossible, Master… I was only Tier 3, two months ago! The training times are exponential! I couldn’t be tier four even with relentless training for the next twelve months!” “I see,” Henry replied with no particular emotion, not even a hint of question or curiosity. “Let us proceed.” “Conjuration.” Gwen switched to the other Schools of Magic by using well-practised minor incantations. Not far from her blazing Evocation Sigil, her Conjuration flashed a bright silver. To her disappointment and relief, it was the same as when she had been last tested. It had grown a little, but the difference was nothing like the sudden spurt of the Evocation sigil. “Abjuration.” The light of the Conjuration sigil faded. Gwen constructed with meticulous care the Abjuration Sigil used for the activation of the Shield Spell. She was well-trained, but even so, it would take at least a second for her to manifest. Then, instantly and without warning, the Sigil for Abjuration formed. It glowed warmly beside the others, a gunmetal Sigil of protection. Gwen regarded the arcane symbol before her with disbelief. No. The spectacle can't be real; it couldn't possibly be real. Was there a problem with the Chamber? Was the illusion showing her falsehoods rather than a resonance? “Master…” her voice trembled, from fear, horror, or excitement she could not know. “A poorly awakened Abjurer too, I see…” Henry again commented without any particular emotion. “Pay it no heed, continue.” Her back grew sodden with sweat, soaking her cardigan. “Yes, Master.” “Divination.” Another dim glow, this time weak and ineffective. Gwen was almost choking on her discoveries now. What did it mean? What could it infer? Was this what Mark was trying to expose? If so, she was in far more trouble than she had thought. “You’re going to need a bit more training to start using Message spells. Attunement to Divination Towers is an art unto itself.” Henry was relentless, commenting upon each shocking surprise as though they were dishes at a degustation. “Master…” Gwen moaned, she was almost afraid to continue. What if it was true? What if it was real? Void Magic was a Pandora’s box! It was stealing fire from the Gods! How can anyone with an ability like this end well? “Illusion…” Henry commanded. “I… I don’t know how, Master,” Gwen breathed out a sigh of relief. It was true. Illusion had been too difficult for someone so practical and lacking in imagination. “Fine. Transmutation.” Gwen had to take a moment to stifle her quickened breath and allow her heart to return to a cadence that allowed for the concentration necessary to maintain cross-class Sigils. In front of her Master, she drew the Sigil within her mind, first the minor incantations, and then- It blazed, a deep-purple luminosity that was visible, clearly defined. “Ah-h! Tier 1 already! How fortuitous. A useful and versatile School, Gwen.” “Oh… Oh Master, I… I…” The moment the sigil triggered, Gwen felt her chest constrict, her body shook, quivering with both ecstasy and distress. “One final School… Gwen.” One more? One more! How could she stand yet another school? It was too much! It was overwhelming. Her life was already turned upside down by her Void Magic, and now it was going to gift her with even more boon and bane? She began to hyperventilate, her guts knotting and churning as she fought the panic. Within her stomach, not even the Golden Mead was staying down, she wanted to hurl, but she was in the midst of a Cognisance Chamber, Lord knows what would show up in the illusion. “Calm Emotion.” A refreshing wave of clarity washed over her quaking mindscape, replacing her anxiety with a quiet, contemplative peace. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. “Thank you, Master.” “Don't thank me yet." He smiled weakly. "Enchantment.” She attempted the final school. Thankfully, there was nothing. There was barely a glimmer. She exhaled. "Now for the elements." Henry motioned for her to get on with it. Gwen froze on the spot. "No! That's impossible!" Gwen whimpered. "That was an ill attempt at humour, I am afraid." Henry smirked uncharacteristically. "It warms my heart to see that even the infallible Miss Song is capable of anguish." "Master!" Gwen flashed her hazel eyes. Henry chuckled. "I believe we have proved Mark's pet theory, no?" "I am... fortune's fool," Gwen weakly reflected upon her new gifts as the Cognisance illusion faded. "Aye, Fortuna is indeed a strange and fickle mistress..." Henry concurred; his voice heavy with uncertainty. "What now? Master?" Gwen inquired carefully. "I saw those dossiers which Mark had thrown out when Gunther took him in." Henry shook his head. "I believe he was... scrying on you the entire time you were trapped, and Caliban was active." Gwen felt a shiver run down her spine. He was watching her being captured, tied, packaged, readied for shipment. He was watching Caliban butcher those poor prisoners. "I dare say he had a list of the prisoners, and... it adds up, I am afraid. There was an Abjurer in there, a few Evokers, two Transmuters..." Gwen felt sick, her blood abruptly cold with dread and wretchedness. Those new Schools of Magic she had gained, they were not hers. They were the talents of people who were murdered by Caliban. She was a thief, a plunderer, a grave robber. Her knees felt giddy and weak. She had to find an open space and sit, try to orientate her bearings. "Indeed... what now?" Henry pondered as Gwen hugged her knees, looking forlorn on the floor of the all-white chamber. So many secrets, he mused to himself; they keep piling like soft snow on the mountaintop. But secrets and Magisters made good companions. Henry knew not a single Magister who did not have some dire intrigues of his or her own. After all, was not his wife a mass murderer who'd mutilated almost a hundred souls? The Bloody Countess of Eger who terrorised the Hungarian countryside? Small secrets were like gnats, always wearing one away, but big secrets? They were more like a whetting stone that kept one sharp and focused. The life of a Mage seeking the Path was already akin to living on a blade's edge, one slip and there was only death or disgrace. Furthermore, if and when Gwen came into the power she desired, how trivial would all her other secrets be? She merely needed to hold one close to her bosom, and that as enough. The problem was how to bring Gwen to this understanding? She had just professed to embark upon a righteous path of not murdering her enemies. Yet, her rare gift demanded that she consume human lives to fuel her Path of idealistic pacificism. Such complex contradictions! What absurd reflections of reality and life! To Gwen's surprise, her Master stood by her side, radiating a sullen melancholy. "I believe that the greatest mistake we had made was keeping Elizabeth's secret," Henry began, smoothing out his wrinkled jacket. "I don't intend to make that mistake again." "Master?" "I have consulted with Surya on this, and we have concluded that only when the world recognises your ability, allowing it to glitter over all faults - would you would be safe." Gwen gazed at her Master uncomprehendingly. Henry chuckled. "Have you heard the story of the Heart of Flames, Gwen?" Gwen shook her head. Her family was not exactly one for sweet bedtime stories. "The short of it is that an Arabian Sultan once found the most coveted Creature Core in the world, uncovered from the nest of a long dead Ancient Red Dragon. The core was astoundingly beautiful, and when channelled, provided control of the fire elements equating that of the highest Djinn." "As one can imagine, the Sultan was afraid, terribly afraid of others finding out about his possession, so he hid the core about his person, only producing it in times of war, as well as in the dark of the night, gazing upon it lovingly and calling it his most precious." "But, secrets never get buried for long, and many came to covet the Sultan's greatest prize. First, the Sultan became the target of larceny and theft, but when that failed, his foes turned to his family. His sons, daughters, his wives: one by one, enemies from within and without took them. Still, the Sultan refused to give up the core. Ultimately, it was only upon his deathbed, still holding that stone, that he realised his Sultanate was at its end. He had no more heirs. The Core could not pass on his legacy." "Centuries later, when the Heart of Flames eventually passed into the hands of the Britannic Mageocracy, Queen Victoria made an important and unusual decision. She did not hide the core, but instead declared it a national treasure! She split the core in half, mounting the larger portion upon her sceptre, and the minor portion her crown. She called them her most precious objects, openly declaring to an adoring public that if they wish to see the stone, they merely needed to pay homage to Queen and Country before the Royal Palace during the annual celebrations." "Did that deter the thieves? I doubt it; such is human nature. But the brilliance of that core now shone with such light, that no shadow could approach it, for an entire nation acted to protect it! The Heart of Flames! The symbol of the Empire! How could anyone dream of theft? Something so debased and unscrupulous! It would blemish and discredit the very heart of a nation! Do you recall our passionate, nationalistic jingo?" Gwen shook her head. Henry cleared his throat and began to sing. "Bring me my wand, of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of Desire: Bring me my Stone: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Heart of Fire! " "Who could dream of violating that? The stone was sacrosanct!" Henry eased over to give Gwen a reassuring pat, his hands hovered here and there, before finally resting on her cheeks. "Do you understand, child?" Gwen nodded. She understood - she finally comprehended why her notebook placed such emphasis on winning the Inter-High competition, on getting into Sydney University with the most prestigious of scholarships. She was to be a panda bear. For despite its world-renown desirability, if one tried to steal, assault, or even molest a Panda, one would anger an entire nation. So what if she had powers far exceeding the average bear? Rarity was leverage. The keynote was becoming an existence both indispensable and unique. That would be Gwen's metaphysical double-glazed shield. So long as the powers desired the utility of her talents, so long as she could be their beacon of hope, she was safe. Factions conflicted amongst themselves, and many would have selfish designs on a Void Mage, but that competition was leverage. Just look at Elizabeth. What greatness could she have achieved without her madness? Even in her guilt as a mass murderer, she had been ironclad. At the end of a dark day, no uncertain threat from an insane Mage could remotely match the certainty of extinction from the Wildlands. "But... my consumption ability..." Gwen felt her heart and mind racing; there was one last barrier to dispel, one last knot to untie. "I am afraid there are no good answers to that," Henry confessed. "Yet that is precisely the point, no? You must own up to your choices, be accountable for your actions. For the abuse of Greatness..." They said the next few words together, Master and Apprentice achieving a kind of cognitive resonance. "... is when remorse is disjointed from power." The shackles of doubt fell from Gwen's wrists, replaced by a feeling of liberation suffusing her body. Driven by impulse, she embraced Henry. The act seemed to surprise the old man; who for a moment had not known what to do with himself. Their intimacy persisted though, Gwen digging her face into his shoulder, at which point he sensed a wet warmness upon his collar. Was it her breath? Or perhaps a few drops of his Apprentice's rare emotions? He returned her embrace, her body young and supple; his, gnarly and knotted by time. Meanwhile, Gwen had recovered from her impulsive moment and was now burning with embarrassment. In her old world, people would have mocking called it a paternal complex. They would be right, of course, but was it her fault she had never had a father-figure across two lifetimes? Morye had been mostly apathetic, somewhat aloof, and positively allergic to responsibility. Meanwhile, Henry untied the knots in her chest, untangled her worries and opened the floodgates of gratitude. There was a welling of emotion that she never really understood; before she realised, she was in her Master's arms, finding catharsis and resolution. They separated; the old man looked just as embarrassed as she was. "I am thinking of announcing to the Tower that you are my Apprentice, Gwen," Henry informed her suddenly. "After the Inter-High competition." Gwen smiled. There was no need for words. Henry made an effort to straighten his posture, groaning at the burden of physics involved in the act. Gwen shifted on her knees to brace her venerable Master. "I supposed now you should return to Surya and enjoy the rest of your Summer Break." She blinked. Summer Break? Good grief! It was still the summer holidays! She had a whole month of December before school resumed in mid-January. With all that had happened, it seemed as though a lifetime had passed since she left for Mark's office! "Will you go?" Her Master had a point. She couldn't go back to the dorms yet; no one else was home. She couldn't go back to Morye's, Helena's, or stay at the Tower - there was only Surya's. "Yes, that's a good idea. You should look into solidifying your new Schools of Magic. I'll speak to Surya, and we'll get you some basic Transmutation and Divination spells. Keep this between the three of us. No one must know until the right time, not even your friends." Gwen nodded again, looping her arm around Henry's waist like a faithful granddaughter. Arm-in-arm, the duo made for the levitation platform, the doors to the Cognizance Chamber closing behind them silently. The platform descended; down and down, round and round, plunging towards the uncertain embrace of Lady Fortuna.

"Gwen!" "Debbie!" The two girls reciprocated cheeks. Surya observed the exchange, his face full of benevolence, his heart finally returned to its usual cadence. In light of Henry's ruthless sentencing of Mark, leaving his cucu perempuan with his old friend had been no different to sending merino into a Hob's den. As such, for the first half of the day, Surya had assumed a foul and disgruntled disposition while Gwen tied together loose ends to the fiasco, casting such a moody shadow that all his assistants, Debora included, fled from his scorn. Around mid-day, Surya received a Message spell from Kilroy. As he listened, his face alternated between shock, calm, and finally euphoria. At long last, he had received permission for a Teleportation Circle at the estate. Such a thing cost as much as three figures in HDM crystals, but considering her circumstances after Blackheath, Surya would prefer Gwen not taking public transport for some time. As the sun fled, Surya's NoM servant served supper. Locals working for the Magus, they had been apprehensive at first but stayed on once they realised that the 'dangerous' Mage was just a benign, eccentric artist. And so it was that the five sat in front of the infinity garden - Surya, Gwen, Debora, Melissa and Tess, enjoying a supper of tender roast and heirloom vegetables. Surya's assistants were not privy to Gwen's secrets, Debora not to the entirety of it, and so the conversation was kept light-hearted and full of sweet nothings. Surya commended that Debora was performing exceptionally well in learning the Bronze-skin techniques and that she would be of great help in the future. In his esteemed opinion, the athletic, earnest girl got along well with his other two apprentices, and together they had been making some rather ambitious new works. Following dinner, classic Pavlova with fresh strawberries and cream, paired with a sweet Moscato dessert wine capped off the night. As was usual for the tablelands, the air stayed sultry even after the sun dipped against the horizon. The girls had left their glasses untouched at first but seeing it served and that no one seemed to mind, proceeded to sinfully sip away at the scented amber liquid. For Gwen, the frizzante was a Godsend. It wasn't the supernatural mead that Sufina supplied, but actual alcohol, pure and clear and natural, full of euphoric buzz. When was the last time she had drunk alcohol? Gwen couldn't recall; after all, that had been a lifetime ago. She stole a nip here and there, her glass perpetually topping itself thanks to the nefarious designs of Tess and Mel, likely wondering if an another Gwen lurked under her unflappable calm. When the three bottles finally spilt the last drop, the four girls were rip-roaring with laughter like old chums. The sun died a glorious red death, forming that timeless Outback panorama of burning plains and flaming skies. Surya announced his retirement and stumbled off to sleep in his workshop and Mel and Tess returned to their rooms in the west wing. Debora also retreated, leaving Gwen by herself to ponder the insignificance of man under the horizon-spanning Milky Way; wondering if this was the same constellation as her old world. "He that has the steerage of my course… direct my sail…" She said to no one in particular, too groggy to recall the rest of the lines. By now, she was flushed and sweaty. The nights on the tablelands were unpleasant at best. She would have to beg Opa for some cooling glyphs in the guest rooms. Just sitting here, without even moving, she was feeling beads of sweat catching in the folds of her cotton dress. She would need more clothes for her month-long stay as well, but for now, she could borrow from Tess and Mel. Unsteadily, Gwen made her way to her room in the dark, threw off her dress, and fell comfortably into her bed. She felt flushed with the heat of fermented muscats, relaxed and happy. So many knots have been untied, and Gwen felt safe for the first time since arriving in this world. The sheets were coarse and stuck to her skin, but her mind was already elsewhere. She pondered her parallel lives, measuring one against the other. Though Gwen had first rejected the Gwen of this world, her alternative life had grown on her. In old Sydney, she had left behind many regrets. Of the four-burner stove that was family, health, career and friends; Gwen had shut the one labelled family entirely, redirecting its time and energy towards health and wealth. She rarely even had time for friends, and her romantic pursuits had been a horror. Now, in this world, through uncertain trials and tribulations under risk of life and limb, she had reached a kind of equilibrium. For friends, she had Yue, Elvia, and now Debora. For a mentor, she had her Master, Henry. For family, she had Opa, who gave her a taste of belonging she had not savoured in her parallel life. As for her career— that was yet uncertain. Bodily, she stretched out luxuriously on the double bed, ready for the lull of blissful sleep. Internally, her mind wandered through the darkness, careless touching this and that. There was a nervous moan beside her as Gwen poked something soft with her nails. She froze and slowly turned her head. In the dim light, she met Debora's flaming face. "I er... think I have the wrong room." That was the truth. The east wing of the complex had six identical bedrooms in the hopes that one day family would gather to celebrate the material achievements of House Huang. Unfortunately, that particular project ignited when Surya, Helena and Kwan burned their bridges. As a result, the east wing of the estate was entirely untouched by human occupation. Moreover, the doors had been neither labelled nor were easily distinguishable in the gloom. Flushing with embarrassment, Gwen tried to lift herself from the bed, but the disorientating influence of wine sent her rolling off its side. She yelped as she crashed onto the timber floor, face up and writhing in agony. "Jesus, are you alright, Gwen?" There was something off about Debora's voice; it lacked its usual tenor and clarity. In the low light of the stars, Gwen spotted her friend's face. Debra had been crying. With a tump, Debra joined her. Her friend had gotten up too quickly and had likewise lost her balance. Stumbling onto the floor, she rolled onto her knees and elbows, then came to a rest beside Gwen. The two of them laid side by side in awkward silence. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Gwen soon broke the solemn moment with a chortle. Debora joined in a moment later. Before they knew it, they were both laughing out loud, albeit quietly— it was simply too hot for locomotion. Finally, Gwen managed to think of something to say. "Sorry…" she apologised. "For pulling you into all of this." Debora said nothing, merely breathing arrhythmically, trying to cool herself on the cold timber floor. In the darkness, Gwen could see her friend's body outlined in the silhouetted sheen, lit by a silvery light. Unbidden, Debora's crests and valleys, mounds and falls quaked a little from the emotions beneath her honeyed skin. "I didn't know you were from such an amazing family, Gwen..." Debora muttered finally with a tone that was forlorn and lost. "I'd always thought you were just like me, that we were close in stature." "It's just Grandfather," Gwen admitted. "You don't want to meet the rest of the family, trust me." She thought about what she had said, then added an addendum. "Richard's alright. He's a funny guy." Debora wasn't listening. "I thought… I thought we weren't so different. I just had to work harder. Until that is, I met Master Henry, and Alesia, and that Gunther guy..." Debora's voice was growing more affected with every word. Besides her, Gwen felt Debora's emotions mounting with her irregular breath, her chest rising and falling, expanding and contracting. "They're not ordinary people Gwen, and they all wanted to help you. That means that you are no longer an average person. You're in another world now, how could I catch up to that? How's that fair?" Her voice broke. "You're going to be so far away, so far and out of reach. I don't even know what I am doing anymore, Gwen. Why am I trying so hard?" "Debbie..." Gwen wanted to comfort her friend, but she had nothing to add. Whatever comforting words she spoke would merely be sophistry. Could she promise Debora that she would carry her? That would be supreme arrogance and an insult; it would only make the matter worse. In the dark, Debora turned to face her. The girls' eyes were hot with upset, making snail trails down the sides of her cheeks. "What's it like to have a mere mortal ask to join your party?" Debbie uttered devastatingly, her tone both bittersweet and tinged with despairing misery. "Was it funny? Did you and the girls have a lark?" "No, of course not, Debbie..." Gwen scanned her memory for something intelligible to say, but her brain was so overwhelmed by the amber fever of the muscat that her thoughts felt like sifting through cotton. "When I think of you and Yue and Elvia, seeing the world and moving beyond the Shield Wall— going on your adventures, leaving for tier 1 cities. And I am stuck here in this terrible Frontier town next to that horrid snake— I just..." Debora sobbed, a quiet, heartbroken wail. Gwen repressed a pang of guilt. Debora had not known that the serpent was benign, nor could she inform Debora of the truth. Gwen understood, though. Even drunk, she completely understood why Debora felt so alienated, helpless and alone. Her friend had been tenacious, stubborn and competitive. The competition with herself had been a driving force, especially after their Awakening. Yet, she was now out of reach, entirely out of reach, forever. Was there something she could do? She wasn't sure, but she wanted to try. Gwen scanned through her memories for her absent maternal memories, and found involving Percy, whimpering in the night because their father was working and their mother was gone. She had held him then, brother and sister, his face against her bosom. She had rubbed his back and cradled the babe until he grew exhausted. The next morning, Percy was good as new. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Unsure of what else to do, Gwen reached out with her slender arms and pulled in the sobbing Debora, stroking her hair with one hand while whispering kind words with her husky voice. "Shhh... it's okay, Debbie— everything will be alright. You can make it with us to the same university. We can even join the same military unit. We'll be together on adventures big and small. I don't know if we will be together forever, but it's going to be great while we are—" Debora stifled her sobs as Gwen spoke of halcyon days ahead. The room now grew unbearably hot. The diffusion of emotions had made it stuffy and stifling. They would have to take a breather outside and cool down. Her friend withdrew from Gwen's embrace, pulling back far enough that they slept face to face. Unlike her old world, there was no light pollution in the Outback. Up above, the Milky Way glimmered with promises, an ambient sea of stars stretching from boundary to boundary. The moon itself hung full and bright, casting a pale white glow. And under that hanging glow, Debora's eyes were as bright as the amber flutes of Muscato they had savoured, twinkling with hope under the silver light of the glimmering heavens. Opposite, Gwen's elfin face was pale as fragile milk. Then Debora kissed her. Not a peck, nor a tap, but a full kiss on the mouth. Her friend's lips were soft and moist, enveloping Gwen's own, imploring her to respond. There was a slight, wet suction; Debora's tongue was hinting at better things to come. It was Gwen's first kiss, and yet it wasn't. Arguably, Debora kissed well, and Gwen sensed this wasn't her first rodeo. Nonetheless, the uninvited act was shocking enough for the groggy fog of the grapes to fall away. She pulled their lips apart, a spider thread of saliva appearing and disappearing between them. A scent of sultry grapes lingered on their flushed lips. "I... should go," Gwen said softly, this time carefully and patiently removing herself from the floor. "Gwen," Debora begged, her eyes full of panic. "I am alright, Debbie…" Gwen replied softly. She didn't want her friend to feel bad. "I am sorry," Debora began, trying to get up herself. "It's okay. I was a little lost there was well." Gwen confessed, controlling her cadence. Debora tried to stand, but she was still a little knock-kneed and trembling. Perhaps Debbie was afraid that she would hate her now? If Gwen was a particular kind of woman, she could make Debora's life a living hell. Still, knowing Debora's family and their religious attendance of Sunday Mass, the revelation was a big surprise. But then again, did Debora like her in that way? Gwen wasn't exactly sure, but she was the adult here. She understood puberty and all its confusing, hormonal contradictions. "It's fine Debs." Gwen leaned over. To Debora's surprise, she kissed her ice-cold forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow." There was silence as Gwen retrieved her dress and moved to the door. She opened it and waited. "Thank you," Debora replied, her voice full of allaying gratitude. Gwen likewise breathed out a sigh of discrete relief. "Night, Debs." "Goodnight." Gwen found the right room next door. She doubled checked that it was unoccupied, and finally fell into bed. This time, there was the lull of undisturbed sleep. * * * Gwen was given the luxury of sleeping until midday. After everything that had happened in Blackheath, Her body finally caught up to the banked hours of fatigue that had been kept away by Golden Mead and adrenaline. Half-starved, she politely asked the NoM servants to make her a cold-cut sandwich from the previous day's leftovers. She then sat by the infinity feature and considered what she should be doing. There was a feeling of emptiness on her fingers. She had lost her storage ring, and by that same measure, she had lost the notebook Henry and Surya had painstakingly made for her. She had memorised the routines, of course, but she had wanted it as a keepsake. All in all, the only she had retained was the jade pendant, for which she had Caliban to thank. Gwen shivered. Near the craft quarter, Opa emerged from his steaming foundry with his assistants in tow. A broad grin of anticipation written all over his earnest face. "Afternoon." "Afternoon, Opa." "Got some nice snoozes in?" "Yes, Opa." "Good, good…" They bantered for a while as drinks materialised. Surya rummaged around the pouch of his work-satchel, finally producing a small wooden box. He opened it and displayed it to Gwen magnificently. It was a diamond ring. "Here." he threw it toward her. "Commissioned by the Master of the Ten himself." Gwen caught it in one hand and opened her palm, examining the intricately crafted piece of jewellery. The "diamond" was a creature's Core, of course, merely prepared in the style of a brilliant square emerald, refracting a scintillating pattern of four distinct quadrants. Gwen marvelled at its brilliance. Diamonds were a girl's best friend after all, even in a world of dungeons and dragons. "The cut was done an Asscher Inscriber. The Core is from your Master's private collection. All I had to do was inscribe and mount it. Try it on." Gwen slipped the ring onto her dominant ring finger, the band shrinking to fit. "This is— a medium Storage Ring!" Gwen gasped. "There's something else as well." "There's the usual teleportation beacon," Surya advised with a tone of pride in his work. "The core was powerful enough to sustain a few more spells, so I also put Water Breathing and Feather Fall in there too, for you know, contingency." "Oh, Opa! Thank you!" Gwen hugged her grandfather, making a note of needing to thank her Master as well. A Storage Ring with additional Glyphs! It was worth hundreds if not a thousand HDMs! "Hee, hee, hee…" Surya grinned, very much pleased with himself. "There's a glamour applied so it would look unassuming. Don't worry about showing it off." They conversed some more about the uses of the ring, its method of activation, as well as important do's and don'ts. "So, you wanna do some work or are you going to get fat off Opa's land?" "Of course, I love part-time jobs," Gwen cooed delightfully. "What can I help with?" "Well, Henry's sent over the spell books for Detection, Message and a few useful Transmutation spells to get your foundation started, but you'll be working on those in private. Meanwhile, I got a Roo problem happening now that the lakes all dried up. The damn things are ripping apart my fences trying to get to the water here." That was no surprise, even in her old world, kangaroos were becoming a pest. "I'll ask around the local area. You and Debs can probably head around and do some corralling and culling. Roos are good for eating too, and their pelts are worth good LDMs. With that ring, you should be able to bring back two ta three at least." "How many Roos are we talking here, Opa?" "Oh, you know, swarms of the buggers, a few hundred? A thousand? Who knows? They're just big grasshoppers. The NoMs loved eating the stray ones, but the big reds are far too big and powerful for them to fight. So make sure you get the local farmers to spot you while you're out there." Swarms of two-meter tall big red kangaroos, Gwen grimaced. That doesn't sound too dangerous. If she could improve the dietary condition of the locals as well, that was an additional boon. "Alright, I'll go get ready, Opa. I need to get some appropriate clothing though, are there any shops around here?" "You gotta go into town, got Crystals on you?" Gwen shook her head; she was alas, penniless. Putting on her best face, she blinked expectantly at Opa. Surya grinned, savouring Gwen's supplicating expression. He passed a hand over the table expensively and dispensed a small mound of crystals both high and low in density. Another pass and a few rolls of green notes fell onto the pile. "Happy shopping. I'll get Tess to bring the car around. You know, you should work on Transmutation, at tier three you get to cast Flight! Once you and Debora can fly, you can go anywhere." Gwen gave Opa a big wet kiss. Half-drunk, the old Enchanter walked away with a spring in his step, as blithe as a Tigger. "Shopping!" Gwen punched the air with a fist. She couldn't wait. * * * "Oi Jacko, where's Tako?" Stevo shouted across the lowing of cattle roving across the tablelands. "Dunno," Jacko fired back, his voice hoarse from the dry air. "I'll go check on em, wait up." He tapped the flanks of his grey mare, and the horse sped into a gallop, making for the back of the herd. He found their number three behind the last cattle, starting and stopping, looking back with a sense of dismay and uncertainty. "What's the matter, mate?" Tako turned to his friend with a face full of worried lines on his sunbaked, leathery skin. The young jackaroo's name was really, Tako. No self-respecting Japanese person would call themselves "Octopus". His real name was Takahashi, and when his parent migrated onto the Frontier, they told him to just go with the flow. "There's something following us." Tako squinted against the sun, shielding his eyes. "The trail ain't right." Jacko took a gander, kicked his horse and made a short perimeter around the suspect area. There was plenty of evidence that pointed to the passing of prime Auroch cattle, but little indication of monsters. "Seems alright to me, mate. All I see is bullshit, ha!" Jacko joked uproariously. Tako was a good bloke, but he was a little high-strung, always going on about fearing this and being wary of that. Sometimes a bloke just needs to relax. "I am serious, Jacko," Tako returned, though seeing Jacko's clowning, clowning, he couldn't help but smile himself. "Oi! OI—! The hell is that?" Taco squinted. There was a little grey flag moving towards them. "Jacko, stop! What's that?" Jacko halted his mare and looked, squinting against the blinding rays. "Looks like…" He began, then something struck the back of his mind. The old drovers told stories like these, exchanged them for goon at the pub. "No bloody way…" "Jacko!" Tako started, turning his horse. "Shit its coming right this way! Run mate! Run!" "A—, fuck me dead!" Jacko whipped his horse around and made a straight-bolt for the herd. "We gotta get the Aurochs back to the ranch! There are Mages there that can help us!" The thing that was coming towards them was diving through the red earth with an absurd velocity, somehow keeping up with the horses at full gallop. But for how long could it keep up that speed? That was the pickled sandwich; Tako knew that their horses were tired from the sun and the heat, and couldn't possibly keep a gallop for more than a few minutes. _BA—WAM!_ Suddenly, there was the sound of something launching. The jackaroos turned back to see a massive monster, more shark than land-beast, sleek with a head covered in hard carapace and tipped like a sharp cone. Absurdly, it looked as though a rhinoceros had crossbred with a tiger shark, and then given ten doses of malevolence. Effortlessly, thing leapt through the air, striking the ground not with a thud, but with the soft sound of sand shifting. When it emerged again, it was moving faster; it was gaining on them! "How the fuck is that bugger moving so fast?!" Jacko shouted, his horse was doing alright, but he noted with another 'Fuck!' that Tako was slowing down. "Jacko! My horse is giving out soon, get the herd out of here! Tell Stevo to lead em to the ranch! I'll try to draw it away!" "Na mate! That's bullshit, don't do it!" "No time! Gotta go! Come at me, ya fugly bastard!" Tako veered, whistling and hooting the whole while. The shark-creature twisted in midair and dived for the noisy rider. Tako veered again, the creature just missing him by a few inches, sending up a spray of red dust and sand. "I am making for the Deadman's Rock!" He shouted to Jacko, who was now galloping away. "If I live! I'll be there!" He dodged another dive from the creature. Tako's horse was starting to foam; she wasn't going to last much longer. He would have to ride her as far as possible, then run on foot while the thing fed on his beloved mare. "Sorry, Betsy." Tako leaned in and patted his horse, kissing it on the neck. "This is gonna be our last ride, mate."

Gwen tried on yet another pair of knee-high boots, finding the leather too cumbersome to maintain balance. Outside of questing, her school runners should suffice. But that had been a bush trail, and this was the jagged landscape of the Outback, where leagues of knife-sharp stones crossed with burning sand, bisected by ravines of slippery moss and ankle-deep mud. Beside her, Debora deliberated between wasteland punk and new world adventurer, assembling her outfit before Gwen could say slip, slop, slap. "Looking a treat there, Debs," Gwen chewed her lips, wondering if she should give up. Debora spun, having slipped into a pair of frayed denim shorts, slopped on an Akubra hat, and slapped on a tight singlet, she looked plenty comfortable. Compared to Gwen, Debora's Earthen constitution meant that she was highly resistant to the blistering sun. Gwen, on the other hand, had twin Air for elements, one of which drew from the Domain of negative energy. Ten unsheltered minutes under the sun and she would have wilted. "Thanks," Debora Jones, cowgirl, replied. Gwen sighed. She had anticipated a sexy wasteland wanderer look for herself as well, but knew she wouldn't make it half a kilometre exposing that much skin. Eventually, she found a pair of white cotton, elbow-length skivvies that was breathable and comfortable. At the next store, she found cargo pants in charcoal. Another round of persistent searching located a pair of calfskin ankle boots. And to finish off, she found a checkered, hand-knit Afghan scarf, as well as her daily female necessities. The shop assistants had been beyond attentive the moment Debora and Gwen walked onto the premises. They may not know who the two teenage girls were, but they did know Tess to be Surya's assistant. Added to the fact that Tess was acting as their driver; the NoM staff left no request unfulfilled. Certainly, Gwen had the right regal demeanour. She spoke carefully, politely, and formally, not at all abrasive nor rude to them. Debora meanwhile, was rougher, and the assistants couldn't quite place her within the limited spectrum of their Mage world know-how. The town, Cessnock, was itself at the centre of the Hunters Region. It was a thriving resource town fuelled by the area's vineyards and primary agriculture. The commercial street was becoming gentrified thanks to the influx of individuals like Surya, who found great pleasure in owning an estate in the country that overlooked Sydney's tablelands. Gwen paid with the notes, as crystals were primarily used for the exchange of magical items and consumables. The group then made their way to the 'other' side of the town, where now a booming exchange of magical goods was being traded in a local Enchanter's Market. Though there were few items with practical applications for a Mage, the fair was nonetheless of great interest. Following Tess like two puppies, the girls had found great pleasure in sifting through trinkets and other minor magical conveniences of the day. Gwen had never known, for example, that NoMs could harness micro-scale elemental effects without the ability to channel mana. There were items enchanted with minor glyphs that produced small flames or produced clean water by simply drawing upon the natural motes of mana in the atmosphere. Likewise, minor spell effects that Mages considered trivial such as the cantrip "Light" could be used by NoMs by simply inserting LDM currency sticks into the feeder slot. In this way, these items producing chilling and heating, minor telekinesis, or even small buffs like alleviating fatigue. These cantrip items, Tess explained, were the mainstay of the lesser Enchanters, Mages who lacked the talent or resources to venture beyond the mid-tier. Unlike Surya, who made thousands of HDMs on commission alone, the majority of Acolytes relied on selling items of convenience to wealthy NoMs for a living. Gwen nodded, eventually purchasing an inscribed leather belt with a bandoleer of pouches for tubes of potions that hung snug across her hips. "So, NoMs can't purchase Magic Items to protect themselves?" Gwen was incredulous when Tess raised a point she'd been wondering since arriving at the market. "Hardly," Tess scoffed. She then bitterly complained that such an ill distinction between NoMs and Mages would bring great chaos. Within history, Surya's Apprentice explained, several nations had already attempted arming the NoMs with empowered items. The results varied greatly depending on the period and the context. The European incursion into African Black-zones ended with bloody noses when the arming of slaves on the Ivory Coast resulted in the loss of said weapons to the Gnolls. Today, those very Gnolls rove up and down the coast blasting bolts of human magics from appropriated Fire Rods. Worse still, unsavoury grey-market traders had discovered profit in selling said items to Demi-humans in search of Crystals, Creature Cores, and rare Ingredients. "Why weren't those people prosecuted?" Gwen asked incredulously. "It's one of the Tower's policies, or so Surya says." Tess shrugged apathetically. "The Grey Faction supply the weapons for the intelligent monsters to make war on each other. Now, they're too busy with each other to threaten the dozen or so Human cities on the coast." "What if they turn against us?" Gwen asked worryingly. She certainly never learned this in their school's curriculum. "Only humans can process stable mana crystals on an industrial scale, dear." Tess laughed haughtily. "They can use it against us, sure, but most of the items have a few dozen charges at best. In a drawn-out war, they'd be out in a month, and we'd have stockpiles for years." "Not to mention," Tess reached between her bosoms, then pulled out a necklace. Attached to a length of twine was a fang about the size of Gwen's pinkie. "The Fang of a Wemic Patriarch. I bought it at an auction. Ninety-nine per cent chance it was traded and not hunted. I am saving it for when I reach the mid-tiers. Gonna inscribe a polymorphic, strength-enhancing animus onto it." The conversation then turned to the town. Tess obliged by introducing the girls to the locals. The NoM ranchers were mostly men, a few women, and they were all as hard as cured leather. When Gwen mentioned that her Opa had asked her to help the ranchers with their roo problems, the settlers were more than happy to ask for help. The first to make the request was a tall and well-built man named Rhodes, the owner of a vineyard not far from town. He had a not-too-beat-up Landcruiser beside him that hinted at a successful business operation and immediately took a liking to the girls. Once the quest for Roo clearing was given, he offered to pick Gwen and Debora from Surya's estate first thing next morning. Gwen agreed, and after an exchange of Message Glyphs, went their separate ways. The girls then proceeded to have lunch at a delicatessen in town that specialised the Wild Land ingredients. The daily specials were Orange Zone Wood Mallard, and terrine of Horned Rabbit served cold with farmhouse vegetables. As the girls were broke, it was Tess' shout. Late mid-afternoon, the girls finally came home, going their separate ways to do personal training. Debora worked in the foundry, perfecting her new Bronze Skin technique. Meanwhile, Gwen took the opportunity to try out her new Schools of Magic in a discrete, wooded alcove of Surya's Estate. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Detect Magic." Gwen invoked the tier 1 Divination staple. Gradually, her eyes appear to have gain gained an Instagram 'filter', painting the world in multi-coloured hues. Transmutation had a slightly lilac glow, permeating the lodge as Surya and the others worked. Enchantment, on the other hand, glowed golden and eggshell, though the School tended to borrow its hues from whatever cores or stones it was inscribed into. On Henry's manual, her Master had stated that as her proficiency grew, her Divination would become synaesthetic and innate. "Detect Traps." Her second Divination Spell was stranger, and of course, the Estate had no traps that she could see. Next, she attempted a few some self-buffing spells. First, she shook out her long limbs, then she broke into a dead sprint. "JUMP!" Gwen leapt, her legs reinforced by Transmutation. She had a good affinity for the translocation spell as her body was mana-rich with elemental air. The description had prescribed an 'enhanced leap of about two to three meters. By her estimate, though she must be a good four meters from the ground. Instantly, she regretted her curiosity. With limbs flailing, she fumbled through the air. This was precisely why her next spell was highly recommended before attempting "Jump". "Feather Fall!" Gwen's descent slowed. The spell didn't so much as make her lighter as immediately reduce the velocity and acceleration of her body as she fell. Perhaps if she had been a physicist, she could have a better understanding of the magical mechanics. For now, she could only accept that she was employing magic. For an hour, she practised jumping and falling until her legs were sore with fatigue, but was still dissatisfied that she couldn't grasp the timing. From what Debora had described of her own abilities, she could scale buildings and walls by using a combination of the two spells. In fact, very skilled Transmuters could even scale near-vertical cliffs with nought but Jump. At dusk, she returned to the Estate for a simple supper of meat and veggies. With Surya, she conversing about the town, the people they met, and the things they saw. Happily, Surya brought out a dozen vials of minor healing and mana potions, split the injectors between Gwen and Debora, then wished them good luck for the outing tomorrow. Once her grandfather was gone, Gwen and Debora returned to their bedrooms, their alone time made awkward by the events of the night before. At her door, Debora lingered for a few seconds longer than Gwen, listening and hoping before her own door clicked shut. Rhodes arrived bright and early the next day, his Landcruiser making a ruckus as it bit loudly into the gravel road. "Magus Huang! Good to see ya, mate," the jolly rancher announced expansively, walking into the open atrium with a box of Shiraz and Merlot. "Just Surya is fine, Jonathan." Surya motioned for an NoM servant to take the box before shaking the hand of the vineyard manager. "Ha! Don't let the Missus hear that, she'd skin me alive." "Well, you can be at ease here. My place, my rules." Sharing the lark, the two men bantered until Gwen and Debora emerged in their adventuring gear. It goes without saying that Debora was quite the sight in her shorts and singlet, her hat dipped low to just reveal her bright amber eyes. Compared to Gwen, her Transmutation techniques required a wide range of bodily motion for close combat, hardly conducive to easily damaged sleeves and pants. Beside Debora, Gwen looked more like an aristocratic adventurer from the countryside of England, a tourist who had wandered in by accident. Gwen had always possessed the fair skin particular to northern Europeans, and now with the flux of her Void mana, she was becoming even paler. Bemused by his girl's earnestness, Surya checked their gear. He made sure the girls count their mana and health injectors, and that Gwen carried tinder, ropes, a tent, bottled water, rations and so on in her Storage Ring. "Opa," Gwen kissed her grandfather on the cheek. "We're off!" Rhodes' vineyard was more famous than Gwen had thought. Even as an underage student, Gwen had seen his brand of Shiraz advertised here and there in the city. McGuigan's Estate, it was called; owned by a family of Mages for three decades. Their present host, he explained, was the Estate's manager and caretaker. From the outset, the vineyard was a beautiful sea of stakes that stretched out until it ended with the curvature of the landscape. Built on a hilltop, it was a beautiful place that offered a vista of the valley below. Under Rhodes' care, a tour of the facilities was conducted, ending with the girls walking through the vineyard itself, touching rows of vines pregnant with amethyst orbs. Eventually, the three of them struck a section of the fence which had been torn up. "So yeah, the Roos are outta water at this time of year, and they come and wreak havoc on our grapes." Rhodes sighed. "They're trying to get to the reservoir we'd dug out back, but that water's for the grapes." He picked up a few pieces of splintered wood. "If its two or three or a dozen, it not a big deal, but its when the herds come through that they start doing real damage." Gwen regarded the fences before her. These were not the cute little waist-high fences they had used in her old world. These were two meters tall fences barbed with lengths of knotted iron. For a roo to crash through a solid block of wood, how big were the bastards? Just as she raised her hand, there was a commotion by the bushes. Right before their eyes, a big Red came hopping along without a care in the world. Gwen's eyes popped at the sight of the thing. Sure, it was a little taller than she had expected, maybe two and a half odd meters, but the muscles on that thing! It was ripped beyond belief, as though it had fed on equal parts berries and anabolic steroids. "Ooo, a big bugger!" Rhodes said appreciatively. "Look at the arms on that thing, what a beautiful bastard. Those legs! I bet it could take a full-sized Auroch head-on and come out on top. Pelts worth a few crystals if you can keep it intact." Debora's eyes lit up. "I got this," She said confidently. "Enhanced Strength! Enhanced Constitution! Bronze Skin! Jump!" Before Gwen could intervene, Debora leapt into the fray. Gwen noted with irony that Debora's actions somewhat resembled a kangaroo herself. Her trajectory took her instantly toward the Red Ree, who regarded its assailant with complete disdain. When Debora firmly landed with a thud, it reared back onto its tail, growing instantly to a good three meters. She watched as Debora relaunched herself, her dominant arm winding up a right hook. At her level, the force of the punch was enough to shatter stone and dent steel plates, if she connected, Debs should lay the big Roo flat. _THUMP!_ "OOF!" To their surprise, the Roo caught Debora in midair with a well-aimed kick. It snapped her momentum in half, bent her body like a boomerang and sent her back where hence she came. With a yelp, the Transmuter tumbled through the air before striking the ground with a thud, skidding into the grassy knolls. Instantly, Debora recovered and stood up. Her face was flaming red, but she was unharmed. The Roo was as surprised as Debora. It must have expected her to snap in half because it now grew warier. Visibly, it began to paw the air, looking like an expert boxer ready for round two. Debora hesitated, unsure how to proceed. She wasn't trained in Kung-roo. "Deb! Close your eyes!" Gwen called out before uttering a well placed Flashbang. _BUNG!_ She conjured the explosion right beside the twitching ears of the big Roo, catching it by complete surprise. Instantly, the Roo was smothered by a painful world of blinding light and sound, dropping onto its feet with a heavy thump. It then attempted to flee, its fight or flight reflex on overload. However, in its panic, it had instead made a bee-line for Debora. And Debora was ready. As it came within range, she whipped around her athletic legs in a whirlwind arc and roundhoused it in the head. There was a crunching sound of bone as its trajectory changed, finally landing in a heap some distance away, its head facing an impossible angle. "Whole pelt!" Debora grunted with effort, recovering from being winded by the big red. "That's a whole pelt, right?" Their employee was covered in cold sweat, likely shocked that the two girls thought fist-fighting big Red Roo was a good idea. "Yeah… that's a whole pelt," he muttered. Indeed, it was a good kill, and the pelt was entirely undamaged. "Alright! Who's next!" Debora shouted into the distance. "Gwen! Get ready!" The head of another roo rise from the bushes. A small cute joey with big brown eyes. _Oh no!_ Gwen thought to herself. _Did we kill its…_ A second head rose from the thick, dense grass. Bigger and far more badass. Then a third. And a fourth. Then another dozen bobbing heads emerged in quick succession. Big and red, tall and majestic. Muscles rippling with popping veins and an expression of blue murder. "…" Debora moved between the herd and Gwen. Two portals opened beside Gwen. Out came Ariel and Caliban, hissing at the creatures in front of them. Rhodes felt his stomach tie into a knot, his heart reaching for his throat. Two teenage girls, a ferret, and a what-the-fuck-is-that stood against a dozen roos build like brick shit-houses. _How the fuck,_ Rhodes wondered, _did it comes to this?_

"Betsy, I'll avenge you, I promise." Tako swore to the heavens as he scrambled up Deadman's Rock. The landmark was a substantial chunk of wind-blasted obsidian over ten meters tall. Usually, the rock offered a fantastic view, though the climb itself was precarious. That was precisely the reason Tako had scrambled for shelter in its direction, for there was no way the land-shark could climb something so smooth and brittle. Even if the creature managed to damage the landmark at its base, the obsidian deposit would still offer a razor-sharp surprise when its exteriors fell away to reveal an edge that could shred leather as though paper. Tako himself had done the climb several times before as a dare, though only had he been sober. Now, he scrambled up its sides, fingers digging into familiar nooks and crannies. There was a moment of suspension when he accidentally lost his footing near the peak, but sheer adrenaline propelled him over the edge. From above, he could see the creature, some hundred-odd meters away, chewing away at his horse. In their last exchange, the land-shark had erupted from the red earth and floored Betsy, sending her tumbling. The unfortunate horse had struck the ground awkwardly, after which Tako knew the end was nigh. Betsy had neighed tragically and thrashed about, kicking up a storm of red dust. But Tako could only bite his lip and run. He recalled that there had been one last desperate neigh, smothered by a triumphant roar. After that, Tako knew that it was over for his beloved mare. "SKARRK!" From the advantage of the rock, he could see the creature tearing poor Betsy apart, sending chunks of her down its gluttonous gullet. If Tako were a Mage, he would have pounded the bastard with Magic Missiles, but for now, there was nothing else he could do but wait. The light was beginning to wane, and he had left his saddlebags on Betsy. Tako shivered. It was going to be a cold, long night. Caliban tore into the chest of a big red roo, its slimy shielding of void energies cutting through the thick hide with the ease of punching tissue paper. When it emerged from the creature's torso with a rip-roaring cry of triumph, Gwen felt her vitality restored by a small magnitude. Beside Caliban, Ariel was raining down a storm of blue-white destruction. Empowered by Gwen's Lightning Bolts, the burning hides of the roos struck by the mongoose smelled like mouldy carpet set on fire. Debora had set up a perimeter wall around them with a modified Wall of Stone, changing the semicircle of elevated rocks into jagged spikes that fanned out dangerously. With a simple change in the flow of mana, she could expand, distend, or even launch a line of spines. Already she had caught three roos that had tried to assail Gwen in close combat, impaling the buggers like oversized lizards captured by a Spined Shrike. Another Roo had tried a frontal assault, sneaking past the wall to strike at Debora with a deadly kick launched from its powerful tail. Debora responded by bracing for impact, digging her heels into the ground by summoning stones that secured her footing. As a result, the Roo ricochetted off her torso and slid under Debora's flank, at which point she swung down her heel like an axe. The blow struck the Roo dead in the forehead; engendering a sound of splintering bones. When yet another roo made it past her Wall of Spikes, she sent out a Catapult spike that pierced its torso and pinned it to the ground, where a secondary explosion of Ground Spike transformed the Roo into kabob. Some distance away, Rhodes oozed while the girls fought. The engagement was a massacre, and he was in an abattoir. The NoM manager could scarcely have guessed that two delicate-looking teenage girls were capable of butchering eight-foot Roos with the ease of kicking chooks. The last Roo fled. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen intoned with a flourish. A blue-white bolt ionised in the distance and pierced the last Red Roo through the back, sending it crashing onto the red dust. Debora counted her kills. Five big roos, three with near-full pelts. Gwen examined her own. Seven big, two small, four medium roos, nary an unburnt pelt between the lot of them. Caliban burst from the chest of a fresh kill with a flourish. "Hiss! Hiss!" it roared in triumph, its lamprey mouth bloody with excitement, its barbed tongues flailing wildly. Gore slid from its glass-like carapace, pooling where it met the purple-pink flesh underneath. Some distance away, Rhodes barfed. Gwen conjured some water with a cantrip incantation, and the girls washed off the blood. Gwen was untouched thanks to Debora, while Debora had to wring blood from her arms, and legs. "Prestidigitation!" she incanted. The bloodstains evaporated. Gwen's eyes flashed. She was a Transmuter now too! She could also master the most useful spell in the history of dry cleaning. It would be the very next thing she requested from Master. "Right, good work." Rhodes washed out his mouth with some water from a hose, then took a deep breath. "Let's get you settled in. Do you want to take horses, quads, or the 4x4 truck?" Debora's eyes flashed. Horses! All girls dreamt of horses and ponies. She was a city girl, and had never ridden horses; this wasn't an opportunity she was going to give up lightly. As for Gwen, her passion for riding was no less inflamed. Rhodes took them to the stable and selected two beautiful mares. Gwen's mount was a grey-white yearling with a distinct, spotted pattern; Debora's was a pure white mare that made her eye glow with admiration. "Daisy and Dorothea," Rhodes introduced them. "We'll put you through the paces at the farm. Come on. I'll introduce you to our tracker, Tommy." The girls picked out suitable saddles and watched Rhodes strap the horses in. Gwen watched as Rhodes helped Debbie mount the gentle mares, his eyes unblinkingly gazing past her friend's tanned thighs. Midway, the man must have spotted a drop of dark blood on her boot heel and was reminded that these sensual bronze stalks had just crushed the head of a three-meter Roo. He coughed politely and gathered his wits. While the girls took turns riding, Rhode went and looked for the young jackaroo. When the girls returned from their first lap, they were greeted by a leather-skinned young man with thick lips and a pleasant face. "Hi lovelies, me name's Tommy," he greeted them jovially with a wave of his hand. _Slap!_ Rhodes slapped his hand over Tommy's hat, sending it tumbling until the string snagged Tommy's neck. "These are Lady Mages, Tommy! Have some manners, ya dill!" "Sorry boss!" Tommy apologised cheekily. "Ya Majesty Mages!" "Hi, I am Gwen," Gwen replied with an incline of her head. "Debora." Debora extended a hand and Tommy ran up to shake it. "Cor! You're mighty strong Miss!" Tommy spat, attracting yet another bat on the head from Rhodes. "Tommy, you better stop muck’n around. The Misses need ta get a handle on the horses. You're going out there later this avo to round up some Roos. Just make sure they get there safe and sound, alright?" "Yes, Boss!" Tommy nodded. "Alright Misses, I'll put ya through the paces. Daisy and Dorothea are real good with young Jillaroos. You'll be right as rain!" "Right. I gotta head back to the office." Rhodes bid them goodbye, he had still had a dozen roo carcasses to sort out. Pending their earlier slaughter, he would have to get the meat to the coolers and the pelts processed. "Message me if you need anything, anything!" The girls spent the next hour or so practising horsemanship. Debora was a natural, taking to the horse like a Hob on a wolf. Gwen however, was in a world of pain by the time an hour was over. Her buttocks were bruised, and her thighs were chaffed. Her spine felt compressed, and her shoulders throbbed. Lunch was brought by a few ranch hands in tin foil trays. Unsurprisingly, it was grilled Roo served with a simple pan-gravy on grilled vegetables. The girls offered to share with it Tommy, but the young man proved too apprehensive to eat with them. Instead, he offered to take their left-overs. Feeling somewhat miffed by the happy-go-lucky young man's meekness, Gwen shared a single-serve with Debora and left her serving for the jackaroo. Once the girls had eaten, they watched the boy wolf down the sizeable steak, waiting until he had finished the meat before asking him about his life on the ranch. "Yeah, I'm pretty happy here, the boss' a top bloke." Without disguise, the young jackaroo spoke of his good fortune in finding work somewhere south of the Shield Barrier. By now, Gwen could clearly see that the young man was an indigenous youth. She had read that the indigenous people had carved out a niche in the Wildland, surviving on ancient spirit magic and animalism. Aboriginal lore was an area of great interest to Gwen, especially after meeting the fabled Serpent of folklore, which Henry suspected may indeed be the Rainbow Serpent. "What of your tribe?" Gwen asked carefully. It was a touchy topic back in her old world. The English colonists had little empathy for those they had deemed the 'noble savages,' less so when it came to land rights. "It's a living." Tommy shrugged. "Mostly the elders and a few blokes stay with the mob, the rest are like me, we come down past the Shielding Station to find some wrangling work. The skilled ones could use their magic to work the animals, or become trackers for the militia." "Are there many of you?" "Yeah, Nah," The boy laconically replied, implying, "yes but not many left in the old ways." "I'd love to… see what a Wildland settlement is like…" Gwen mentioned casually. "Sure, Miss, be glad to take ya. If the Boss allows it. Journey's right dangerous." "I think we can manage just fine," Gwen thanked the young wrangler. She would love to find out more about the Serpent's lore. They had been sitting out, digesting the big lunch when the first runner arrived. "Tommy! Mate! Heard you got some Mages on the farm!" A ride leapt off his horse deftly and skidded to a halt, leaving behind an impressive trail of dust. Tommy was still working the girls through the paces. Debora was already proficient enough to range and roam, but Gwen was another story altogether. "Victa, what's wrong, mate?" "It's the Adina boys, they went out droving their Angus and ran into some kinda Shark monster yesterday. Jacko just got back with Stevo, but Takahashi is still trapped near Deadman's rock, assuming he's alive O'course." "Shit, really? Fuck me. The poor bastard must be up shit creek without a paddle." Tommy scratched his head apprehensively. "Look, Mate, I wanna help as much as anybody but I ain't gonna command no Mages. Maybe you should take it up with the Boss." This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Victa looked over at the two girls still trotting to and fro on their horses. Tell the Boss was the right thing to do, but all that's gonna happen is that Rhodes puts out a reward for the monster and they go out a day or two later to see what parts of Takahashi they could find. Rhodes wasn't a bad guy, hell, he was as much of a top bloke as Bosses come, but even he couldn't summon Mage to help. Magical aid was costly, meaning that the whole Estate would owe debts they would struggle to repay. Gwen and Debora rode up beside the young men. "Is something the matter?" Gwen inquired curiously upon seeing their looks of consternation. Tommy's face was an open book. "Is nothing much, Miss," he began. "Just one of the boys stranded a half day's ride from here. Got himself corralled by a real pickle of a monster, half-shark they say, ate poor Betsy, his mare. Real savage like, blood and guts and all. The poor horse was still alive when it dug in." "Monstrous!" Debora's blood was instantly up. She stroked her mare, Dorothea, lovingly. "We're right worried," Tommy lamented. "Poor old Tako, got an old Mam too, not ta mention his Pop got a real bad case of rheumatism. I guess his sister ain't gonna go to school after he dies. Maybe she can find some legwork in the big city, doing some menial labour and all that..." Debora's breath quickened. Her face was turning several shades of red. Gwen's eyes regarded Tommy coldly, making the dark jackaroo flinch. "Gwen…" Gwen patted Debora's shoulder and urged her to calm down. "So, Tommy, what does this have to do with us?" Gwen asked. She was determined to help, but also annoyed that Tommy thought wrangling Debora with a sob story was going to get them to help. "Oh…" Tommy knew he'd stepped on a sleeping wombat's testies. "I.. I don't rightly know Miss, but them's the facts o' life." "Gwennie…" Debora begged, her eyes twinkling with desperation. The sight of a pleading Debbie was cute. Very much so. More so for her ardent desire to do good. Gwen groaned, lamenting her lost innocence. "Just this one time, Tommy." She turned to warn the young station hand. "I catch you next time, and I'll get Caliban to rip you a new one." "Sure thing, Miss!" Tommy's face broke into that careless, idiotic grin of his. Gwen wondered how much of it was a ruse and how much of it was real. "Let's go now!" Debora announced, turning her horse. "We need water and supplies!" Tommy wheeled his horse. "No need." Gwen flashed her Storage Ring. "Get going!" "Opa, it's Gwen. We got a situation out here." Gwen explained the crisis of the moment and what they intended to do. "Careful, the Land Sharks can grow up to Tier 5. It's rather rare to see one this close to the city though. I hope nothing is amiss at the Shield Wall station." "Shall we check it out after?" Gwen asked. "Too far without Flight spells. I'll get Rhodes to bring up the 4x4 to the closest main road. Want me to send Tess or Mel?" Gwen gave it some thought but decided against it. She wanted to be tempered and trialled to grow in her many Schools of Magic. That and in so far as her Void talent was concerned, there was nothing better than fighting in an isolated Outback full of clueless NoMs. At worst, even if Tess or Mel showed up, they can be trusted to keep their lips tight. "I think we will be alright, Opa," Gwen assured Surya through her Message Device. "I'll contact you if we run into trouble." "There's probably no Divination signal if you venture too far out, but good hunting. Take care of Debora." "Yes, Opa." Gwen glanced at her companion. "I bring her back in one piece." "All done?" "Done." Gwen turned to the two jackaroos. "Let's get going then." According to Tommy, Deadman's rock was a half-day ride away. If they were keen to save Tako, they should be able to reach the landmark by nightfall. For the average NoM, riding into the darkness, even with a torch was suicide. However, Gwen could conjure an array of Floating Torch, Dancing Lights and Flares. If and when they needed light, a good twenty to thirty meters around the party was manageable. Not to mention I can Detect Magical Creatures, Gwen noted to herself. Thanks to the horses, there was no need to take a detour back to the main road. The four of them simply crashed through the stunted, short shrubbery of the bush, alternating between trots and gallops. When the horses needed to rest, Gwen produced water, when they were hungry, snacks and rations materialised from thin air. Of the foursome, Debora had been the antsiest out of them all. She was alternatively worried about running the horses and tiring them out, while paradoxically wanting to run the horses haggard to rescue Takahashi. As for the jackaroos, they were acclimatised to death in the Outback. When Debora demanded to know why they weren't pulling their hair out, Tommy explained that somebody died every other week; from Magical Creatures, from accidents, from starvation or thirst, or from natural disasters. If folks worried about death to excess, nobody would ever get work done. By nightfall, the group saw Deadman's Rock in the distance. "Flare!" Gwen incanted, channelling more mana into it than she needed. The space around them soon took on a bright blue glow. "Dancing Lights!" Again, Gwen over-channeled the spell and about a dozen or so lights appeared. Thanks to her dual-mastery of Conjuration, the orbs could follow her and remain persistent. The party slowed as it approached the destination. "I ma try’n call Tako," Tommy forewarned. "It's gonna be loud." Tommy put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill and sharp whistle that assaulted the girl's eardrums. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. "Let me," Gwen offered. She pointed to the highest point she could reach with her Conjuration spell, a good twenty or so meters in the air. "Flashbang!" _BUNG!_ An explosion of sound and light rang out overhead. The fulmination rolled across the horizon, blowing apart the sand and dust below. "Christ that's loud!" Tommy covered his ears. Discretely, Gwen activated Detect Magical Beasts. A filter suffused her vision. Any creature with powerful elemental cores would be lit with the hue of their element. According to her Opa, the Land Shark was hardly a subtle creature and should be clearly visible even a good few feet underground. A shrill whistle answered them from atop the rock. "Thank God." Tommy and Victa were grinning like shot foxes. "The bastard's alive!" The light faded. The party continued its approach. "Oi Mate, I found something." Victa pointed to the distance. "Ah, the Misses might wanna look away." To their right laid the hollowed form of Betsy, and the old girl was a right mess of flesh and bones. "What a brute," Victa grunted sadly. "She was a good horse." "Yeah well, that's why the Misses are here to put it down, ain't ya Miss?" Tommy turned to the girls. Debora gripped her reins, her face full of undisguised anger. Gwen's expression was more aloof. The boy was too proficient at trying to stir Debora's blood, Gwen felt. That or Debbie needed to work on mastering her hormones. They were even closer now and could just make out Tako's silhouette from atop the large piece of volcanic obsidian. He was waving like a madman. Gwen looked around them. It was strange that she couldn't detect a single magical source. More frantic waving from Tako. He was pointing toward the sky. Gwen looked up. It took a second for Tako's charades to be digested by her brain. "It's right below us!" she cried out, leaping from her horse. Unlike the others, she simply wasn't skilled enough to try and deal with the creature while mounted. "Debbie! Jump!" Gwen incanted the spell she had been practising all yesterday without thinking. "Feather Fall!" At the height of her ascent, her trajectory slowed. Below, she watched her frightened horse bolt away. A second later, a gigantic creature carapaced in solid granite and sleek as a missile shot from the ground towards her. It missed her by a good half-metre, but had she not been levitated thanks to Feather Fall, it would have snagged her leg. Glancing downward, she gazed into its maw and saw row upon rows of teeth that extended all the way into the abyss of its gullet. Besides Gwen, Debora leapt off her horse with far more dynamics, buffing herself as she sailed through the air. She took full advantage of her momentum and landed with an impressive axe kick on the creature's torso, shattering some of its stony scales. Crunch! The creature lurched sideways in surprise and pain, snapping at her awkwardly as it skidded across the dusty red dirt. "Gwen!" Debora called out, snapping Gwen from the aftershock of almost becoming shark bait. According to their Opa, Land Sharks had had a specialised death roll that they used to tear limbs from their prey. In the air, Gwen took the opportunity to instantly summon her familiars. Her beasts materialised from their pocket dimensions on either side of the Shark, forming a triangle between Caliban, Ariel and Debora with the creature stuck in the middle. Just as they were about to make their move, the creature dived. To Gwen and Debora's surprise, it drove into the earth as though swimming through water. Gwen channelled more mana into her eyes and noted worryingly that beyond the first metres or so, her Detection spell did not penetrate further into the red earth. "Shit..." Gwen felt a cold premonition of what was to come. She couldn't Fly, and that was a fatal flaw. Should she keep using Jump and Feature Fall? Any more Transmutation spells and Debora would be asking awkward questions. Thankfully, Debora's quick thinking salvaged their paralytic dilemma. "Minor Shape Stone!" She incanted. Pillars of stone rose from the earth to a height of several meters. The girls both found purchase and quickly scaled to safety. Caliban coiled around Gwen's pillar while Ariel was fully confident it could duck something as clumsy as a turd shaped predator the size of a utility vehicle. The Land Shark burst from the earth like a torpedo and launched itself into Debora's pillar, completely obliterating its circumference. Its little bead eyes glowed with malevolence, clearly irritated beyond belief that a small mewling creature could have cracked its carapace and caused it such injury. "Ariel!" The mongoose peppered the creature with motes of lightning. "Blast Bolt!" Gwen channelled a sizeable portion of her mana into the blast, and the Land Shark lit up like a light bulb. The light faded. "SKAARRRK!" The creature was well-cooked but otherwise entirely lively. It roared, spraying rotten spittle all-over before leaping from the ruined pillar towards Gwen. Debora shot like a ballista bolt from her own ruined pillar. She then activated her most potent combination of spells. "Haste! Magic Weapon!" The Transmuter became a blur of whirling kicks and punches, smashing into the creature with the fury and force of an excavation machine pulverising the earth. Bits of carapace flew into the air, smeared with dark, crimson shades of oxidising blood. As bone and flesh rendered, Debora grew speckled in the stuff, her white singlet blooming with sudden gouts of garnet and sangria. To Gwen's disbelief, the Land Shark withstood Debora's assault. Not only that, it twisted its stunted neck into an impossible angle and snapped Debora off her feet. There was the sound of metallic gnashing as Debora's bronze skin scraped against razor-sharp fangs. Her friend gasped and cried out sharply, the force of the crushing bite cracking her ribs, pressing the air from her lungs. The creature tossed its prey wildly. Debora was too tall for the Shark headed beast to swallow whole. Gwen saw the Shark ready itself for a death roll. "FUCK!" Gwen swore under her breath. There was no avoiding it now. "Void Bolt!" In quick succession Gwen shot off four bolts with unerring accuracy, her aim long tempered with a thousand repetitions. While standing on its stumpy legs, the Lan Shark had remained relatively stationary. Even now, it lifted its bull-neck and readied itself for the roll. At once, vitality drain from Gwen's body, her face took on the pallor of death. Four bolts cut into the creature's limbs in quick succession. The first two struck true, slicing the fore-limbs clean off at the joints. The back legs, however, had been too thick for Gwen's low-tier attack. The bolts were consumed midway, leaving the limbs to hang by skin and bone. Instantly, the Land Shark's blood sprayed hot and heavy over the red earth, yet, it was too dumb to register its mortal wounds. With its prey safely deposited in its maw, it persisted in throwing itself toward the motions of a death roll. Gwen watched as the thing turned, only to have the pain reach its nerve centre a full second later, paralysing the shark-faced rhino instantly. Debora pushed apart its jaws and extracted herself, streaks of white markings lacerating her stomach and lumbar, crisscrossed her bronze legs. "Tough bastard." Debbie coughed, evidently feeling the soreness of her cracked ribs. The creature was convulsing now, bleeding out rapidly. Its beady eyes staring with hatred towards the girls even as they dimmed. Caliban approached, revealing its malignant, hateful maw. Her creature salivated. Here was a lot of fresh meat, a good half-ton at least. Gwen was wondering if she should allow Debora the honour of having the deathblow when there was a call from the direction of Deadman's rock. It was the Jackaroos, and they were returning with their lost mate, Tako. Warily the station hands approached. Gwen regarded Tako, who according to his mates, had risked his life to protect the herd and their lives. To her surprise, he was an Asian bloke, but then she recalled the guy's Japanese name. Unlike Tommy and Victa, the young man approached the Land Shark without an ounce of fear. "May… may I kill it?" he inquired carefully with a voice that was crackling with emotion. Gwen nodded and stepped aside, calling back Caliban and Ariel, who returned to their pocket dimensions. She was feeling a little nauseous from using four bolts in succession and had hoped the Land Shark would replenish some of her vitality. But, she was also content to let Tako take revenge the old-fashioned way. Debora reached down into the earth. "Minor Stone Shape!" She extracted from the ground a dangerous-looking obsidian spear. Obsidian, on the whole, was a brittle crystal, but when chipped, it was impossibly sharp. With a wince, Debora handed the weapon carefully to Tako. They watched the young drover approach the Land Shark. The light was fading from its eyes now; it was barely alive. "This is for Betsy! Ya piece of shit!" he shouted, raising the stone spear to strike. _SCHURRK!_ With the sickening sound of a crab being pierced by a knife, the obsidian spear slid into the creature's eye socket. Midway, the spear broke away, leaving a good half-meter inside the Shark's skull. "Strewth!" "Fuck’n Oath!" "Fuck me!" The others agreed most heartily with Tako's display of courage. It took a few more seconds for the creature to finally expire. Gwen was just about to turn away when she felt something she hadn't experienced since the Field Trip. There was a wisp of something, barely perceptible to at the edge of her vision. The strange phenomenon seemed to have emanated from the dead beast. She looked around, wondering what the thing could be. As before, she placed her hand upon her chest and felt the Kirin amulet aglow with warmth. "Oh?" Debora seemed to have sensed something as well. She kelt down toward the beast's gut, and to their surprise, dug both hands into its soft underbelly. A slosh of gory stuff came rolling out, causing the crew to gag. Just as they were wondering what the hell Debora was doing, she pulled out an amber stone the size of her fist. "Is that a Creature Core?" Gwen asked, completely caught off guard. If it was a Spirit, then they had just won the game of life. If this magical creature had a unique Spirit, then that would explain why it had been able to dive so deep and 'swim' through the ground so effortlessly, bypassing the Shield Barrier. Debora's gore covered hands were shaking. She was an earth Elementalist. If this was really the core of an Earthen Spirit… She looked at Gwen with begging eyes. They were at a crossroad. The most ardent test of character now awaited the girls, a test that had destroyed many friendships. How to split the loot.

When a group of adventurers worked together, the etiquette of fair loot must be observed. It was the unspoken law of Mages, for no Mage could survive without companions, and there was no deadlier destroyer of parties than a leader who hoped to claim all loot. Usually, a party has five members. They receive a thousand HDMs worth of spoils. Via at the simple conjunction of arithmetics, each member should receive something equal in value. Should a member require a particular item of great importance, they are to pay the other members the missing cost, following an appraisal. However, there were two distinct problems which now faced Gwen and Debora. Firstly, if this was a Tier 3 - 5 Earthen Spirit, it meant that the Core's value was close to four to five thousand HDMs. If the Spirit possessed additional properties other than an affinity increase and identify friend-foe, it's monetary value would compound. The second problem was that Debora's middle-class family was far from wealthy. Simply put, the Spirit was simply 'too good' for a mediocre Mage such as herself. In her lifetime, Debora likely would never afford a mid-tier Spirit. The loot was simply out of her league. The correct thing to do would be to sell the Spirit Core and split the money, a win-win for all. Deep inside, Gwen knew that her friend desperately wanted more power so that she could catch up with her peers. This Elemental Spirit was her chance, her one opportunity. If she could somehow meld with this Spirit of Earth - her spells would become more powerful by several magnitudes. With any luck, her incantations would take on new side effects that may alter the physiology of her magic, making her a unique existence. Such was their dilemma. If they had found a lightning elemental, Gwen could arguably payback Debora by begging Henry or Surya for a loan. But with the shoe on the other foot, there was little Debora could do to reciprocate her favour. If so, how should she resolve their loot? Here was a watershed moment for Debora, but for herself, it was merely another boon. Gwen took a deep breath. She loved money, but she loved her friends more. "I'll get the next one then, is that alright with you?" She intoned carefully. She felt a scrap of regret, but the foul feeling quickly passed. Across from her, Debora's eyes blazed with gratitude and gladness, so much that her body physically trembled with joy. Watching Debbie's reaction, her heart melted. With effortless ease, she fought off that mocking demon called envy. "T-Thank you! Gwen, thank you so much!" Debora gushed, cradling the Spirit Core to her chest like a baby. "I-I don't know what to say!" "Then say nothing." Gwen smirked. "Should… should I try it now?" Gwen held her tongue. Debra was a smart girl. The night was long, and minds could change in an instant. "Wait up, lets set up camp," Gwen advised. "Tako, Tommy, can you find us a good spot?" "You got it, boss!" The makeshift party soon set up camp under the obsidian outcrop, shielded from the wind and the elements. Gwen set up a perimeter of Dancing Lights while the boys got to work clearing a space. She produced two tents from her storage ring, some sleeping bags, and an assortment of camping supplies. Not far, Tako's eyes went wide with shock, but the other two young drovers were already used to such miracles. With worshipful awe, the jackaroo stared at the most downright attractive girl he'd ever seen. Gwen caught Tako gawking, and the young buck quickly looked away. She didn't mind the stupefied looks; it wasn't every day that people materialised filet-mignon from thin air. If she had been an NoM, she would have been equally impressed. Meanwhile, Debora rinsed the blood from her body. Her white shirt was ruined, but her shorts and boots were intact. Gwen threw Deb a towel, feeling smug that she had everything inside her Storage Ring. With a little surprise, she realised that this was already her second storage ring. Conversely, Debora may not afford even a Minor Ring of Storage until Debs was a working adult. Watching her companion, she felt a pang of guilt, understanding that despite her trials and tribulations, she had been spoilt for opportunities. More than before, Gwen felt that she had made the right decision to gift Debora with the Spirit Core. By now, the boys managed to set up a roaring fire thanks to some magical items of convenience Gwen had purchased from the market. She materialised pots and pans, plates and cutlery, laying out enough for dinner and breakfast. Wordlessly, the jackaroos went about making supper. With their audience distracted, Gwen turned her attention back to Debora. Her friend had retreated to a corner of the camp and now had the Spirit Core cradled across her lap. With a thrum of mana, Debora began the ritual. The process of subsuming a Spirit was simple enough. When defeated, an elemental spirit that had previously inhabited a Magical Creature became trapped within its Core. While attuning such a Core, a Mage gained the opportunity to spirit-bond the elemental to their astral body. The process gave the elemental a direct link to its home Plane, allowing it the sustenance required to maintain its ego. In return, the Mage took on some of the Spirit's abilities and Affinity. Gwen sat, studying her friend. It was a shame that they were not in a Cognisance Chamber, else she could have witnessed the entirety of the phenomenon in full. In the future, Gwen knew that she would acquire an Elemental Spirit of her own. Though a Void one was out of the question, it was entirely possible to purchase a Lightning Elemental through her Master's connections or to find a Spirit by raiding the Orange and Black Zones. "Gwen! I am starting!" "Good luck!" Gwen gave her friend a thumbs up. Debora held the stone close to her diaphragm, cradling the egg-shaped sphere like a babe. The Transmuter observed the amber glow swirling within, then began the process. There was a glimmer of light, then suddenly the Core grew dull even as Debora's physical body became encased in sand. "Come on, Debs! You can do it!" Debora's amber eyes now took on a dusky-orange glow. Gwen could feel the motes of Earthen mana pour from her friend's body as the Spirit attuned itself, fortifying her Affinity. The particles of stone and sand around Debora began to rise into the air, forming a swirling storm of brown-red dust. Gwen backed away. One of the pebbles had struck her leg with sufficient force to make her wince. The boys paused their cooking to observe the spectacle. The dust storm grew until it was a good few meters across, sending Gwen and the others scrambling for cover. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the sandstorm ceased. A seated female silhouette emerged from the falling dust. Debora had taken on the form of a sandstone statue. Visually, the combination of her crossed-legged visage Debora her the guise of a fertility goddess. With their mouths wide open, the jackaroos watched the slow peeling of caked dust from Debora's body, revealing the girl underneath. _Ye Gods! Deb's half nuddy!_ Gwen's heart leapt into her throat. She scrambled from cover, a towel materialising as she made for her friend. Debora, perhaps unaware, tried to meet her halfway. The girl shifted, a cascade of terracotta shells falling from her torso, exposing herself to three young men grinning like shot foxes. "The stars are a right beaut tonight, Vic." "Yeah, mate, she's sure glorious to look at." "Me jeans a bit tight…" With a growl, Gwen shot off a low powered flash-bang, sending the boys scurrying for the hills. Debora lifted her eyes, still dazed by the fusion. From ambivalence, her expression began to change, first from realisation, then engendering a smile of such genuine joy that it instantly melted Gwen's heart. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Thank you, thank you so much." Tears rimmed her amber eyes, now overflowing with gratitude. With her arms cradling her waist, Gwen could feel Debora's body pressed against her own. Apprehensively, she placed her hands upon Debora's ribs and made a little distance between them. Debora stepped back, as naked as Leda in front of the Swan. Gwen stepped back further still, producing a set of shirts and shorts. Silently, she made a mental note to include much more garments for the future, comprehending why Alesia had such an extensive wardrobe. To her surprise, Debora cast the attire aside haphazardly, making Gwen a little annoyed at the display of willfulness. "You're too careless," Gwen knelt to retrieve the fallen apparel. "What does it matter?" Her friend replied in a dreamy trance. "I am so happy right now." "You look drunk, Debs. How's the Spirit doing?" Debora pressed a hand to her heart, depressing the nubile flesh. "It's pleased and grateful." Debora raised a finger, where a crumbling trail of silica began to circulate. "Would you like to see what we can do?" "I would like to see you dressed first," Gwen said seriously. Debora shook her head. "I am afraid that's going to be rather difficult. It's one of those abilities." "A full-body Transmutation?" Rather than answering Gwen, Debora smiled and raised her arms. Gwen felt motes of Elemental Earth gather around them. "Bronze Skin!" Debora incanted. Rather than transmuting into a being of bronze, her skin turned coarse. Motes of Earth with the consistency of sand flowed over Debbie's body. The effect was somewhat unsettling, as to Gwen's eyes, her friend had transformed into a golem consisted of shifting sand. "I should probably call this Sand Skin now." Debora giggled. "Wall of Sand!" Debora raised a hand. Where she motioned, walls of sand rose and fell, forming into instant shapes. Small hills, valleys, pillars, battlements, there seemed to be no end to what she could create at will. Looking down, Gwen felt something take her by the ankles. Before she could react, she and Debora were rising into the air, one meter, two meters, three. A few seconds later, they stood on a platform of compact sand. Gwen exhaled, immensely impressed. Typically, it would be impossible to reach this level of Affinity without years of extensive training. "I am not sure what my Affinity is at the moment but… judging from before, it's more than likely five…" "That's wonderful," Gwen congratulated her friend, growing more nervous by the minute. Debora was very close and very nude, Sand Skin or otherwise. "Blink!" Debora announced. She suddenly disappeared, becoming nothing but a shell of loose sand, a hollowed-out beach sculpture. Gwen was about clap, then felt a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. She turned awkwardly, meeting Debora's mischievous eyes looking longing into her own. Gwen looked down. Her scalp instantly crawled. "Blink" was an inferior form of teleport, one that shunted the body into the ethereal plane before phasing it back in at a nominated location. For low-Affinity casters, it came with the danger of being lost in the grey immaterial space— although Debora's Spirit now superseded that limitation. Unfortunately, "Blink" did not teleport parts of a caster's attire that wasn't suffused by attuned magic. That was the same problem that Alesia faced when not wearing quasi-magical battle gear. Gwen herself had yet to possess any full-body effect incantations, but now that she was tapping into the versatile school of Transmutation, it was merely going to be a matter of time. Of course, her most pressing problem remained the overambitious Debora, who appeared to be intoxicated with her new abilities. "Right! Wonderful! Debs," Gwen said. "Please, let me down, and put something on. You'll catch a cold." "What if I don't want to?" Debora's lips parted, revealing the pink tip of her tongue. "Kiss me." "Debbie." Gwen's tone grew stern. "I am serious." "Alright." Debra withdrew, re-materialising below. She lowered Gwen to the ground floor, allowing Gwen to exhale her bound-up tension. Once again, Gwen handed over new shirts, shorts, and intimates, turning her head aside as her friend dressed. "Sorry." Debora apologised once she was properly attired. Not been nude seemed to restore her friend's sanity. "I was a little taken there. By my new powers, I mean." "That's fine." Gwen gave her friend a blokey punch on the arm. "As long as you're alright, Debbie. How do you feel now? No side effects after subsuming the Spirit?" "I am fine now." Debora paused. "I owe it all to you, Gwen…" Her friend's words were a little too serious for Gwen to digest comfortably. She had spoken as though Gwen had saved her from certain death; like she somehow owed a debt of life. "No, Deb, you worked hard too. We're both lucky. I had nothing to do with it." "I'll pay you back, Gwennie. I swear it. I know that I can now. With this Spirit, I can do it." "Debs…" "It's alright, Gwen. Just know that I'll never forget what you did for me." "Alright." Gwen touched her friend's arm, Debora was breaking out in a terrific swat, but her friend had returned to her flesh and blood self. "Let's get some rest. We got a long way home tomorrow. I am not sure if we need to check up on the Shield Station either, Opa says he'll get in contact with the authorities." "Okay." Turning, Gwen left for her tent, sweating profusely but glad that she had just dodged a hell of a Catapult. Though they had missed quite a show, the three young bucks remained in good cheer. With supper over, they insisted that the girls take both tents, while they formed a little huddle going around the fire. Likewise, they offered to take watch — first Victa, then Tommy, and finally Tako for the last few hours before dawn. Gwen was glad for the display of Outback chivalry as she had been wary that Debora may take the opportunity to indulge in impromptu snuggling. Her disinterest aside, she simply had no time for relationships. There were too many things still crowding her plate: the Inter-High, the apprenticeship announcement, her debut as a Void Mage, her woes were endless. Snug in her sleeping bag, Gwen felt the drain from her Void spells steal the last of her wakefulness. As her eyes closed, so did the dancing lights that had illuminated the perimeter. The camp was plunged into the darkness of the night, lit only by a single campfire, casting shadows that danced against Deadman's Rock. The jackaroos were up at the crack of dawn. The young bucks went about tidying up the camp and making breakfast with the supplies Gwen had left them in an esky. With ease, the boys made damper and brewed up a heart kettle of English Breakfast, topped off with a few fried eggs and thin rashers of bacon. The girls emerged sometime later, conjuring some water to wash their faces and brush their teeth. After, while the girls sat and enjoyed the view of the tablelands, the jackaroos packed the saddlebags. As Gwen and Tako weighed the least, she and the jackaroo shared a horse until they reached the main road, where Surya had promised that a 4x4 would be awaiting them. That had been the source of many a wiggling brow from Tommy and Victa until Gwen raised a sparking finger in warning. It took an hour or so to reach the highway that stretched out into the ultramarine horizon. Another quarter of an hour later, the group met with Rhodes, who was having morning tea himself from the back of his wagon. "Boys! Good ta see ya all in one piece." "Boss." "Boss." "Mr Rhodes." "Tako! Close call, eh? Good work on diverting the Land Shark." "It was nothing, Sir." Tako scratched his chin. "It was a good thing you did, son. I'll be sure to let everyone know. I'll find a new horse for you, put in a good word." Tako seemed a little overwhelmed by the praise. He had, after all, performed his duty in the heat of the moment. "Gwen, Debora." "Mr Rhodes, Good morning." "Morning." The group made some more small talk before the Jackaroos had to take the horses back. The wagon was packed, and Rhodes was ready to chauffeur the girls back to Surya's. Ding! Gwen heard the distinct pop of a Message spell. "Opa?" She cupped an ear. "Gwen, how goes the hunt?" "Very well, Opa, it's all done. There are also some exciting new happenings for Debora as a result. I'll tell you later." "Excellent, I am happy you're both safe." "Thanks." Gwen gushed. Surya cleared his throat. "Yes, Opa?" Her grandfather's voice took on a more serious tone. "So, I tried to get in contact with the Shield Station yesterday, and they hadn't gotten back to me. This morning, I got some of my associates to check in with their HQ, and the Hunter Station been out of contact." "Is that normal, Opa?" Gwen asked quizzically, her crisis senses tingling. "If we had suffered a mana storm or if there had been a dust devil drifting in, sure. BUT, with clear skies like last night and the day before? Most definitely no. I suspect your Land Shark might have something to do with it." "Should we check it out? Opa?" "I would normally say no." Surya hesitated. "But it will take the bureau another day to get to the station, it's a safe zone after all, whereas you're with Rhodes, right?" "Yes, Opa. I am with Mr Rhodes." Gwen shot a smile towards Rhodes, who raised his water bottle in acknowledgement. "You should be about two hours away from the station then. Would you mind checking in on the boys there?" "Not at all, Opa," Gwen affirmed. "Very good, I knew I could count on you. There's a reward waiting for you when you get back." "Thanks, Opa." The spell blinked out. Gwen informed Debora and Rhodes of their new Quest. "Sure thing, those boys been keeping us safe. We should check up on them if monsters are sneaking past the shields somehow." Rhodes nodded and tossed his cigarette, grinding it into the dust. "I am confident you girls can handle anything untoward." "Sure thing, Mr Rhodes." Debora flexed her biceps. "Umm... Mister Rhodes?" Tommy raised his hand. "No! Don't!" Tako pushed his mate to the side. "It's nothing, Mr Rhodes." "What's the matter, boys?" Rhodes asked. He was sure he had told them to take the horses back to the ranch. Tako was blazingly red, although the poor sod had been roasting for days. The other two boys nudged him. "Just do it, Tako, you're the hero of the day!" Victa kicked his mate. "You'll never get an opportunity like this again!" Tommy slapped the young man on the back. Tako stumbled forward, his broad-brimmed hat held tightly in his hands. "Umm... er... Ms Gwen..." "Yes, Tako?" Gwen raised a brow. "Well, Mister Takahashi, I should say." Tako possessed the gaze of a samurai ready to receive a blade to the stomach. "Could I... shout ya dinner? For like, saving me arse and all." Debora spat out the water she'd been drinking. Rhodes dropped the cigarette he was about to light. "Nothing fancy like..." Tako mumbled. "Just... like at the local pub or something..." Gwen blinked. She slowly swallowed a mouthful of water from her flask, then looked around to those around her for guidance. The faces she met were alive with anticipation. Her mind buzzed. It was the first time someone had asked her out, at least in her second life. But Tako was an NoM, and she was a Mage, if so, what was a girl to do?

Gwen wasn't sure herself if she wanted to entertain the smitten young man or not. Yet, at the same time, what was the harm? Surely she could get shouted dinner, and it would be no big deal. She hadn't felt like an ordinary woman since she arrived in this world. Wasn't this the most mundane thing that could ever happen to a girl? "Sure thing," she replied quickly, not wishing to appear hesitant. "Maybe tonight?" "Ye… Yes, please!" Tako stammered. The sense of immense relief on his face was unmistakable. "I'll make the reservations!" She wanted to comment that the local pub didn't take reservations, but didn't want to embarrass the boy. "Hmmph," Rhodes grunted, an indication that he would give Tako a tongue lashing later. "If you're finished taking up our time, Takahashi, we got a Shield Station to attend to." "Right you are, Mr Rhodes!" Tako gleefully turned and hopped on Gwen's mare. "I'll see you guys back in town tonight! I'll be at the pub at seven!" The long drive to the shield station was as dull as Gwen had anticipated. The Monotonous landscapes extended as far as the eye could see - endless stretches of stunted shrubbery with the occasional sighing she-gums trailing over waterless billabongs. Then, like a dark finger pointing toward the heavens, the Shield Station appeared. Like an ominous obelisk, the structure extended until they could see its obsidian-laden base embedded into the earth. About a hundred meters from their destination, Rhodes rolled the 4x4 to a stop. "Something ain't right," the rancher muttered. "No guards, someone should have stopped us by now." Gwen felt it too, sensing a premonition of trouble. The last time they had visited a Shield Station near the Royal National, they had been swamped by almost a dozen Mages who inspected every panel on their school's bus. "Let's proceed on foot," she advised. "Mr Rhodes, can you remain here?" "No worries, lass. I'll be right here," Rhodes assured the girls. The duo left the wagon. Wanting to be cautious, Debora slathered on an assortment of self-buffs from Enhanced Strength to Sandskin to Magic Weapons. Beside the Transmuter, Gwen fixed her sunscreen coverage. She didn't have any buffs of her own, and Debora wasn't proficient enough to fortify others. After that, with Debora taking point, the girls made for the Station proper. After checking to make sure that they were within the range of a Divination Tower, Gwen Message on her phone before they proceeded. "Opa, we're here. No one met us at the gate. We're going in to investigate." When no reply came after a minute, the girls proceeded. The gate to the compound was a gigantic three-meter tall gate wrought in steel. Debora pushed slowly, exerting enhanced strength, the gate shuddering as it moved back, exposing a gap just large enough for the two of them to enter. Inside the compound, there were still no signs of the inhabitants. Something was most definitely amiss, though the girls couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Now inside the courtyard, they studied the fabled Shield Station. Unlike the Generator Stations, this far out in the Green Zone, the Station was merely a waypoint - a relay station. Still, a contingent of Abjurers should be present, mayhap even a Transmuter on rotation. The landscape of the Outback had frequent storms both hot and wet, meaning there a continuous process of replacing wear and tear components existed. The entrance into the shielding chamber itself was a set of inscribed double doors set with Glyphs and wards that reacted with extreme prejudice towards uninvited guests. Now, the doors were slightly ajar, their Glyphs of warning cold and muted. "Let me try something." Debora raised a hand and sent out a shifting swirl of sand. The sand sculpture snaked its way towards the door and pushed on the dark obsidian surface. There was the sound of hinges screaming in protest as it inched inward, but no reaction from the warding magic. Inside, it was entirely dark. "How should we proceed?" Debora asked. "Ariel!" The marten struck a heroic pose after landing with a lightning-fast summersault. "Go check out if there's any danger." Ariel regarded its Master sceptically. "Please." "Ee ee!" The marten poked its head through the gap between the doors, its pupils expanding to take in the low light. An oily, black button nose sniffed the surroundings as Ariel entered, skittering here and there noting this and that. "Eee! Ee! Eee-EE!" "What's it saying?" Debora asked, impressed with Gwen's versatility. "..." Gwen attempted to process her Emphatic Link. Unfortunately, her marten was too limited in its intelligence to relay intelligence in an intelligible manner. "I think it's safe to go inside." "Ee!" The marten glanced at Gwen smugly. Again, Debora took point as they entered the atrium. Inside, it was too dark for the girls to see. "Dancing Lights." Gwen willed the half dozen or so wisps to enter the room. Her spell soon illuminated the surroundings, shedding light upon the unspeakable horrors that lay within. "Jesus Christ, Gwen." Debora gulped. "Oh, my God." Gwen suppressed a gag. It was as if someone had taken human bodies and made them into a floor mural. There was dust everywhere, covering every surface at least an inch thick. And underneath the abstract coverage of the ashen substance, the girls could see the entwined shapes of human bodies contorted in horrific gestures before their expiration. Debora stepped back, bumping against Gwen. Gwen meanwhile, felt an incredible sense of déjà vu. The dust— that feeling of death and decay; it felt as though she had all seen it before. "Those people... they're all dead..." Debora stated the obvious. Gwen had to remind herself that unlike her self, this was Debora's first time seeing victims of arcane murder. Comparatively, not had she seen only seen dead bodies, but she had also been responsible for them. Gwen wanted to push past, but Debora clung on to her arm. "They're dead, Gwen! They're dead!" "Shhh... it's alright, Debbie. Let me through. I need to check something." Debora turned to look at her with an expression of disbelief. "Surely... you're not going to touch them?!" "I may need to touch them, yes." "Gwen! No! You can't!" Gwen gave her companion's arm a tight squeeze. Debora wordlessly stepped aside. Gwen knelt to take a better gander at the human forms encased in the fossilised powder. She carefully brushed her fingers across the face of one of the figures. Where the tips of her fingers touched, the caked dust felt apart to reveal a woman that looked as though she had aged innumerably in mere seconds. Her cheeks were sallow and drained, her wispy hair falling from her loose scalp in clumps. Negative Energy Drain— Gwen's heart sank. She had not only seen this power before, but she had also experienced it. It was power drawn from the Elemental Plane of Dust. Her mind raced. Her Master had stated that it was exceedingly rare for Mages to awaken to anything related to Negative Energy. The powers that be simply did not gift the Affinity of death to beings that still flowed with life. Could it be Edgar? Her mind turned. Was Edgar here? Or was this the work of someone else. Gwen felt her breath beginning to quicken as she rose from her investigation of the body. Just the thought of facing her assailant again gave her the goosebumps. He had been the first man Gwen wounded fatally with her spells. She could still see his twisted, malignant face contorted with hatred and malice as his Contingency Ring sent him to safety. That man had been a Mind Mage, and he had gotten deeper in her head than any other being in this world. He had touched her, not just a depredation of her body, but a violation of her soul. He had seen what lies within her astral body, and in the deepest recesses of her mind, her true self. "Gwen? Gwen!" Debora was rocking her shoulder. "I am alright—" Gwen said, realising that she was sweating all over. "Let's get out of here," Debora requested with a quavering voice. "We need to go a little deeper," Gwen urged. She wanted to know if Edgar was indeed here. If so, she'd have her Familiars ready for him. This time, she would show him a thing or two about Negative Energy. Debora paused, unwilling to descend. "Debs—" Gwen was about to say that Debora could stay up to while she went down with Ariel and Caliban, but her friend spoke first. "No, I'll come with," Debora affirmed weakly. "I'll take point." Gwen nodded. She would prefer not going at it alone. "Debs, before you make that call, I need to tell you something." Debora blinked. "I suspect that Edgar might be involved in this somehow." The girl's expression paled. "Yes, THAT Edgar." Debora's hands moved over her abdomen. Edgar had drained her too, made incisions here and there, bleeding her dry to keep her weak when he'd captured them. The Dust Devil, the sensation of being invaded, it was all very fresh indeed. "I don't blame you, Debs, if you want to stay up here," Gwen intoned carefully, watching her friend's lips tremble. How could she blame Debora if her friend was unable to face one of their most traumatic moments? For all Debora's bluster, the girl was just sixteen, a child in Gwen's eyes. How could she ask a child to accompany her into danger? "I'll go," Debora announced firmly. Below her obdurate eyes, she was white-knuckled and shivering. Gwen nodded. "One moment." She produced her phone and again dialled Surya. "Opa? It's Gwen. We're at the Station..." Ding! This time, the Message connected. "Gwen? Good, are you safe? What did you find?" Gwen briskly explained that they had found desiccated corpses drained of all vitality, that she suspected the culprit of the Serpent incident. "You should leave right now!" Surya's voice cracked like a whip. "Fool girls! You're just students! Just go and get Rhodes and get back here this instant!" "No, Grandfather." Gwen's voice was stern and determined. "I need to make sure that Edgar was here. I need to face him. I can do it, Grandfather. I have Ariel and Caliban with me, as well as Debora." Surya growled. His granddaugther was far too stubborn. "Then promise me that you will be careful," Surya said finally. "Run if you have to. I'll get Rhodes to bring the wagon around." Gwen turned to Debora. "Let's go." Her friend double-checked her buffs, then inclined her chin affirmatively. The duo proceeded past the atrium and its display of corpses, making for the pit. Via a spiral staircase, the central portion of the Station dug deep into the Core, search out man ley-lines. With on hand on the rails, the girls descended. "Why is this place so... empty?" Debora's voice quivered. As high school students, they had no idea what a Shielding Station's pit was supposed to look like, but even they knew that something was amiss. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. The textbooks showed that a relay was supposed to have an array of Creature Cores maintained by Abjurers. Together, they fed abjuring mana into the Large Shielding Resonator. The Resonator itself was supposed to be a colossal crystal the size of an automobile. Its resonation of wavelength frequencies was what created the invisible shielding between Stations that repelled magical creatures by attacking their Mana Cores. Yet, at the bottom, the girl realised they were gazing towards precisely nothing— where the giant crystal was supposed to be, there was now only emptiness. "Where did it go?" Debora asked rhetorically. Gwen had nothing to say. A crystal of that size weighed at least a ton. Moving it by hand was impossible. Someone would have to first remove the Core from its mooring by overcoming its protective warding, then store it within an Extra-Large Storage Ring. As the owner of a medium-sized ring, she knew how much effort it took to stow items of a particular size and volume. The sheer amount of mana required to place an object of that size and mass into storage was mind-boggling. Could she overcome the protective kill-Glyphs etched into the moorings? Not without a death wish. Could she or Debora stow an object of such size and density? Not without knocking themselves out like a light. If so, could they defeat whoever had been down here? Gwen was no longer so sure. "Maybe it's best if we return," she announced quietly. "Agreed." Debora was more than happy to comply. They carefully ascended. The way up was an exercise compared to the ease of descent, ensuring that both girls were sweat-drenched and half-choked by the dust air. Finally, huffing and puffing, the girl arrived back at the atrium. "Er— Gwen?" Debora shivered. "Where are the corpses?" Where the bodies had been, there were now three trails in the dust. "Shit," Gwen swore. The Shielding Crystal was gone, which meant that there was nothing here to prevent wayward spirits and other Magical Creatures from filtering into the Safe Zones. "Ariel! Caliban!" Her Familiar duo materialised behind the girls, taking up the flank and rear. "Shaa!" "Ee! Ee!" Gwen wanted to activate her detection spells, but Debora was right there beside her. It wasn't time yet to let her friend know. "EE!" Ariel hissed at a particular section of the atrium. Gwen conjured her Dancing Lights and sent them toward the dim corridor. There were three humanoid figures. Three desiccated figures, each hunched over, making scraping sounds. "What the hell is that?" Debora mouthed nervously. "Weren't they dead?" "Now they're Undead..." Gwen felt her scalp crawl. The trio turned to regard the girls, their eyes smouldered like coals of a cold blue fire. The corpses were holding chipped stones that looked like daggers. Gwen's mind scanned through her Monster Manual classes. Considering the stone weapon and the glowing eyes, she had a rough idea of what they now faced. "Malingee," Gwen announced. "Possessed bodies." A local threat, Malingee were nocturnal spirits that possessed the bodies of the dead. They were especially attracted to the corpses of victims who died of violent causes. "SKAAARRK!!" the creatures howled at the girls, their high-pitched half-scream horrible to behold. The girls grew momentarily stunned as the monsters crouched, launching themselves like bolts from a ballista. "Debbie!" Gwen screeched, forcing her body to move. Ariel instantly grew to combat form and let loose a blast of needles, pinning one creature to the floor. Caliban likewise, took its pound of flesh from Gwen before launching a barbed tongue that pierced another corpse, pinning it to the wall. "Sand Wall!" Debora recovered just in time. The remaining creature leapt itself into the air, only to be met with Debora's Wall of Sand, trapping it within its tightly packed particles. It was the boon of having a spirit operate one's spells independently, one that demonstrated the blessing of a cooperative spirit. The duo watched as corpses writhed. Caliban seemed to have no interest in consuming the Negative Energy creatures. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen incanted the signature Evocation spell, watching her two targets blaze blue and white before the malevolent Spirits perished. Her Master had once told her that lightning was exceptionally proficient against Undead creatures. Debora seemed less sure of what to do with her target. She certainly did not want to punch it or kick the raving cadaver. "Debbie, hold it down. I'll finish it." "No, I'll do it." The sand wall tightened. There was a sound of crushing bone, then a wail escaped from the creature, fading the darkness. As quickly as it began, their fight was over. "Lord Almighty." Debora breathed out, her eyes full of question. Did she kill a creature or had she killed a person, she wasn't sure. "Goodness, that was intense." "Good work, Debbie." Their eyes met. Debora seemed to regain some measure of herself. "Yeah... Wow. We did it. Just you and me." "Yep. Let's get out of here first. Ariel! Caliban!" Her Familiars returned. They made their way past the gate, where an anxious Rhodes awaited them. "Ready to go? Surya seemed rather insistent that youse be back in town." He regarded the half-open doors of the Shielding Station nervously. "Were things alright back there? There was a hell of a firework display from what I could see." "Yeah, we've had enough, I think." Rhodes nodded, choosing laconicism as they made the four-hour drive back to town. Thanks to Caliban, Gwen was exhausted, opting to take a long nap at the back of the wagon. Debora sat beside her, leaning against her shoulder so that propped by one another, they dozed off to sleep. When they finally arrived in town, Rhodes took the girls to luncheon. It was almost early afternoon by now, and the long drive had depleted their energy. Gwen groggily wandered through the cafeteria and picked up a serving of fish and chips, nibbling away at the greasy lunch absentmindedly. Seeing her exhausted state, Rhodes asked her if he should take them back to the estate. Gwen reminded him that she had promised Tako a dinner date, to which Rhodes casually mentioned that it was no big deal if she wanted to cancel. To Rhodes' surprise, Gwen refused. "Alright, I'll get a room for the two of you." The rancher indicated to the inn; a place endearing named the Cock and Bull. There, he paid for a room so that Gwen could sleep off her fatigue. Just in case, he also felt it far safer for his wellbeing should Surya possess knowledge of this impending development, and so he called the old Magus. "What?! A DATE?!" came the howling voice of Surya. "How dare that whelp! I'll be right there!" Rhodes shut down his Message Device, realising with absolute certainty that he should not have called the crazy old Enchanter. Tako dressed up in his finest clothes. He looked a damn treat, at least according to the advice of a sniggering Tommy and his gang of Jackaroo mates. He wasn't exactly sure how trustworthy the fashion advice of a half dozen young men who didn't own a tux between the lot of them could deliver, but he had seen the men's magazines, and he felt that he looked the part. He had also arrived at the pub an hour earlier than the proposed time. With his hair slicked back in the same oily colour as his leather jacket, he pulled open the door and nodded at the Publican. The Publican, an old jackaroo himself, had heard of Tako's endeavour and had seen to it personally that a romantic corner was segregated for the young man. He'd even got his Missus to snip off the head of one of her prized roses, placing it in a "fine Chinese" mug at the table's centre. One of Tako's mates, Jacko, opted to play waiter for their dinner. Taking a seat, Tako poured over the Outback menu. Grilled Steak. Grilled Fish. Chicken schnitzel. Chicken schnitzel parmigiana Spag Meatballs Hot Chips. For dessert, the Publican made his wife cook up some of her prized bread and butter pudding. The Publican didn't know if his pub would survive the date, but he did know it was going to be a spectacle. The town would speak of Tako's fuck up for months, years even. Tonight was the night that Tako got lucky with a Lady Mage, or died trying. All the gallery had to do was drink and watch. Tonight was a night to remember, and the Publican was a man with a long memory. Gwen took a deep breath. She was ready. Debora had fussed with her hair for the last hour, and now she was good to go. Looking in the mirror, she plucked at her dress, smoothing out the folds. She had allowed Debora to picked out the garment, a decision which Gwen now deeply regretted. She wasn't even sure where Debora had found the dress. She had wanted to steer her friend away from their mid-morning encounter, and the date planning had proved a substantial distraction. Then somehow, during her nap, Debora had arranged a dress, hair, and even found a pair of china-blue pumps exactly Gwen's size. The dress was a tight fit as well, almost to the inch, making her question Debora's knowledge of her figure. As for the date itself, Gwen grew uncertain. Even in her old world, she'd never been one for dates. A career woman, she had flings, but rarely cared for dates where the whole purpose of the engagement was the date itself. Occasionally, the Facebook feeds of her compatroits with their husbands, kids, and Golden Retrievers set on her edge, but she rarely felt depressed for long. For a single career woman, there were worse things in life than a water view house and two cats. "Are you certain?" Gwen examined herself in the mirror. She was wearing a long one-piece cheongsam that emphasised rather fictitiously her curves, thanks to Debora's copious application of bra padding. The silk dress also a long slit that ran up her thighs, suggestively exposing her thighs as she moved. "I love it!" Debora assured her. "He's Chinese, after all." "Takahashi is a Japanese name..." Gwen corrected her friend, but Debora would have none of it. "Close enough." Her untravelled friend advised expertly. "You look so lovely, Gwen. I could just eat you up." "... thanks?" Gwen replied. The dress was a little too liberal for her tastes. Debora led her to the door, then slapped her on the bottom, making her yelp. From the second story, Gwen could see that Tako was waiting below. "Go get em!" Debora's face was full of mischief. Gwen left the motel room, her thin heels striding towards the edge of the bannister rails. She looked down. Fifty expectant faces gazed up at her, their shit-eating grins split from ear to ear. "God damn it." Gwen gulped. "Debbie..."

Tako, AKA Takahashi, stewed in a pool of his sweat. First of all, he had not expected such a thick flock of stickybeaks to be present at his date with Gwen. A dozen folks he could anticipate, his mates, for example; but now the whole bloody town had shown up. Secondly, his mate Jacko who was also his waiter, suddenly took ill, citing that he had a real pressing need to go to the local pool and drop off some kids. Thirdly, the product in his hair was already liquifying. The stifling Outback heat had been made insufferable by the breathing of fifty-odd individuals crammed into a pub meant for no more than three dozen full-grown men and women, and that's discounting the gawkers sitting outside. And yet, he couldn't possibly leave. Not unless he had a death wish. His only solace was his date was a beautiful sorceress with a beautiful face, striking green eyes, a waspish waist, and— The pub fell silent. Takahashi peered up to see the object of his affection descending from the second-floor; one hand gingerly placed upon the railing. At the sight of such loveliness, his mind turned blank, all thoughts fleeing with the rest of his wits. The girl made her way toward him like a dream, her white legs appearing and disappearing in-between the folds of her dress. Takahashi could barely breathe. Gwen's shoulder-length hair had been piled up, twisted into a voluminous bun behind her head, leaving a few loose strands to draw attention to her slender neck. Her Chinese-dress was itself a form-fitting one-piece that straddled her shoulders, tapering skin-tight around her waist and her bosoms. Unsteadily, she descended, stalking carefully, riding on a pair of high and elfin pumps. When finally Gwen had arrived at the bottom floor, she was the tallest personage in the pub. Like a graceful swan, his date floated amongst chuckling stickybeaks until she arrived at his table. Tako held his breath, unsure of what to say that would make him appear any less of a love-smitten fool. "He... Hello," he mouthed with great desperation, immediately regretting saying something so mundane. "You look lovely. Lovely. Just Lovely." "It's good to see you too, Takahashi." The girl leaned in, lending him a cheek to peck. Tako tried to meet her halfway, but the girl was a giantess, and he felt like a Halfling. She would have to lean down to kiss him, giving the scene a far more comical air, like a young mother kissing a child. Instead, she offered him a hand, one which Tako stared at with bewilderment. "You look very handsome yourself, Takahashi." The girl withdrew herself. "Thank you." He swallowed, wracking his brain, feeling as though his world was burning down around him. "Please— sit?" Gwen sat, a little disappointed that Tako had failed every engagement other than pulling out her chair. Once her buttocks touched the slightly oily stool, she noted with mild distress that the Publican's seats were wooden and uncomfortable. Furthermore, the unfortunately high-riding nature of Debora's dress made her unnecessarily exposed. Dismayed, she regarded her date and noted that he had a jacket which should do the trick. She could sit and placed it on her legs, covering the side slits so that she wouldn't accidentally moon the crowd. "Takahashi." Gwen met the young man's swelling eyes. "Could I borrow your jacket?" Tako immediately stripped off his jacket, pulling it over his head in the manner of stockmen removing their dusty garbs. When he handed it to Gwen, it was glistening with moisture. Gwen bore it with grace and placed the jacket over her legs, feeling the clamminess resting against her exposed skin. Tako didn't seem to know what else to do with himself, and so he sat as well. "How has your evening been?" "Good." "Have you recovered from the Land Shark?" "Yep." "Are you feeling alright?" "Yeah." The boy wasn't much of a conversationist either. Gwen scanned her long term memory for knowledge of the Outback, finding that neither of her lives had any interest in sheep shearing, cattle droving, or possessed knowledge of bush yarns. They sat awkwardly for a minute until the Publican sent out his Missus, Shiela, to moonlight break the tension. "What'll ya have, Love?" Shiela asked, creaking the floorboard with every step. "What do you have Ma'am?" Gwen inquired politely. "The Schnitzel here is excellent," Tako added quickly, feeling himself somewhat losing control of the situation. "Shiela is the best cook for miles around." "Thanks, Sweetie." The Publican's wife winked at the jackaroo. Gwen felt her stomach contract. A good schnitzel was just the ticket, for the whole afternoon, she had been play-acting as her friend's life-sized Barbie Gwen. Accessories purchased separately. "Oi! Tako!" The Publican, Bill disrupted her contemplation. "Here!" The big man declared expansively, putting down four ice-cold longnecks before winking at Tako. "On the house!" Gwen returned a polite smile. She wasn't old enough to drink, but she could sure as hell down a schooner or two. "I'll have the Schnitzel," she said to the Publican's wife, who beamed at her in turn. "Extra-large." "I'll have the steak." Tako exhaled with relief. "So." Tako appeared to have finally wrangled his brain. "What's life like in the city?" Gwen eyed the beers and their ice-cold beads longingly. "Busy, really busy" she replied. "I live with my friends in the dorm." "Oh?" Tako was rather happy that he'd finally caught onto a conversation. "What's it like where you live? Fancy houses and green lawns?" "Ha! We live pretty modestly." Gwen laughed. "I shared a room with my other friends Yue and Elvia; we're in a team together." "That sounds awesome, do you have a name for your team?" "Not yet, but we'll probably need one for the Inter-High later next year." "Ah—" Tako nodded. "That's the fancy high school competition, right? They show it on the Vid-cast sometimes..." Abruptly, Tako's face took on an ashen pallor. Perspiring profusely, the boy opened and closed his mouth like a mudskipper. "Is something wrong?" Gwen asked carefully. Had she said something to offend him? That was impossible; they were just talking about her high-school Spellcraft team. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Tako appeared as though he'd been Soul Drained by a Necromancer. Suddenly, Gwen realised why Tako was now catatonic. The poor sod had asked her out on a whim, lacking the knowledge that Gwen and Debora were still in high school. The misunderstanding was understandable. Certainly, Debora was more mature than any high schooler Gwen had never known, and she never saw herself as a real high schooler. Gwen had simply assumed that since Tako had asked her out with so much gusto, the young man should have known. "Takahashi... did you not know I am a senior-high student?" The young man looked like he was about to melt like cattle fat on a hot tin. His face had the texture of wax. "Tako," Gwen lowered her voice. "Can you hear me?" "Ern-HNMM—" Came the sound of a displeased grunt. A very familiar grunt that Gwen recognised anywhere. She turned from her seat and saw her Opa sitting in a dark corner of the second level, flanked by Tess and Mel, who was grinning widely and waving at her. Surya had seated himself strategically so that he wasn't visible when she had exited the room but was now painfully visible once he made his presence known. FUCK. It was now Gwen's turn to break into a cold sweat. How embarrassing, how infuriating it was that her Opa was watching her coo at some young man. Not only that, here sat a poor sob who had been so enamoured in his fantasies that he didn't even consider the age of the girl he was asking out. "Gwen," Takahashi gulped. "I don't feel so good." Gwen felt such compassion for the poor jackaroo. It was now clear to her that the world had conspired against him. The town was here to watch Tako pull a Mickey; his mates were out to have a lark, and Debs had probably known all along. That was why she had gotten her this ridiculous dress. That was why her friend was grinning like an idiot. "I am sorry, Takahashi," Gwen apologised, leaning over and offering a hand of comfort. Tako stared at her hand with an expression of horror. He didn't dare take it. Not with the town watching like a pack of hungry dingoes. He tried to move, almost sliding off his chair for the lack of strength in his legs. Gwen watched Tako's suffering. Wordlessly she returned his soaked jacket. "Miss Mage," he apologised. "May I— may I go?" Gwen nodded. The entire pub watched as Tako beat his retreat, some shaking their heads, others laughing and exchanging a few notes under the table. You bastards! Gwen fumed. You were betting on whether Tako would disgrace himself! Now, she sat alone, feeling more embarrassed and miserable by the minute, all the more thanks to her pointlessly revealing attire. Her Opa was smugly watching down from above, enjoying the show. For a second, Gwen wondered if she should throw a tantrum. A single command from her Opa could probably clear the pub, no question asked. Gwen felt her stomach protest. She was still famished; she wanted her Schnitzel; she was ready to hammer the whole thing down just to feel better. "What a shame." Debora joined her at the table. "All alone, sweetie? Can a girl join you?" "That was needlessly cruel." Debora pulled put a chair and made herself comfortable, her eyes licking her friend all over. "What would make you think that?" She grinned mischievously. The Publican returned with two plates. One with a steak swimming in pepper gravy and the other with a crumbed Schnitzel that hung over the side of the plate, steaming famously. "Oh no, Tako didn't make it past ten minutes!" He groaned. "So much for the beer." "What does that mean?" Gwen inquired. "It's nothing, Miss." The Publican plated the food. "I had fifty riding on the fact that you'd at least finish your meal before Tako left." Gwen felt her jaw muscles tighten. Was there anyone who wasn't in on the whole fiasco? Bill, the Publican, audibly sighed. "The missus made some pudding for ya," he added sadly. "I'll bring it out later." "Thanks, Bill," Debora smiled at the old man brightly, watching the old man blush. Debora dug into Tako's steak, twirling a bloody slice in the gravy before placing it in her mouth. "Mmm... medium rare, perfect." Gwen cut into her Schnitzel and crammed a greasy fork-full into her mouth. Swallowing, she snatched one of the open bottles of beer and took a swig. The malt was cold and refreshing, a perfect complement to the salty, fatty breadcrumbs. Debora raised a beer. "To us," she declared. "To us," Gwen grumbled defeatedly, tapping Debora's bottle. With a long pull, she chugged the rest of the tall neck. Gwen returned to the Estate the next morning. She had wanted a heart-to-heart with Takahashi, but the young man had taken on a long-ranging assignment droving cattle for the next week or so. Debora laughed when she received the news, asking Gwen if she had a habit of driving men into the Wildlands. "What were you thinking?" Tess had asked incredulously. "That boy would be in more trouble than he can shake a stick at if..." "If?" "Adult things happened." "Well, it didn't," Gwen sulked. "But come on, you're not telling me Mages and NoMs don't associate at all, are you?" "Not past high school, not at all," Mel interjected. "What would be the point? Where would such a romance go?" "I don't know, for love, maybe?" Gwen said, then regretting retorting at all. Hearing herself, she felt stupid. Her Opa's Apprentices broke into laughter. "Oh, Gwen, honey! You're so precious." "Not to sound like a prude, Gwen," Tess said seriously. "But girls with talents like yours don't marry poor Mages with a single School of Magic. An NoM? You'd be a fool." Gwen felt Tess' advice resonate uncomfortably. "Rich girls don't marry poor boys, Jay Gatsby. Haven't you heard?" She muttered silently to herself. Certain fallacies of human societies, or so it seemed, was consistent across both space and time. The next day, Debora left for an errand. The acquisition of a mid-tier elemental Spirit meant that she had to be registered by the Tower. As a low-tier Transmuter, it was highly unusual for a student to possess so powerful a Sprite. The registration was a necessity, for though it was impossible to rob a Mage of their Spirit; it was possible to murder the owner so that a Conjurer can force the Spirit into a resonate Core, hoping that the Elemental choose survival over oblivion. Thus registered, it meant that should such an incident occur, the entirety of the Oceanic Magedom would come down on the offender like the proverbial Mjölnir. When she informed Henry of her decision, her Master commended her choice rather than berate her naivety. "You will tread a difficult path," Henry had intoned with great gentleness. "One that could use more allies. Debora is a good girl, and with this, she would owe you for the rest of her life." And with Debora gone, Gwen felt lost and lonely; she had spent the last week cheek to cheek with her friend, and now felt empty in her absence. But, there was training to be done, and for a whole week, Gwen worked her self to the bone. When Debora finally returned, she spoke wide-eyed and star-struck about conversing with Gwen's Master. She had also met Magister Walken, Debbie had revealed, another one of the Ten. Furthermore, several Maguses had enquired about taking her on as an Apprentice. Additionally, Gwen's Master had given her Spirit the moniker of 'Sabulo' which meant Sand in the old tongue, making her its official owner. Winningly, Debora showed off her new I.D Card: Debora Jones S.I.D: 0043544 Transmuter Tier: 3 Elemental Affinity: Earth (3 + 2) Elemental Spirit — Sabulo She was now as talented as Yue had been, if not more, a prospect that made Gwen a little antsy for her progress. Currently, Yue was on her mysterious training journey with Alesia. How would she react if she returned from an Orange Zone after two months of survival only to find that her old rival had superseded her? Would Yue spontaneously combust? Nonetheless, with Debora returned to the fold, her halcyon days resumed. Life returned to its old routine, with group training, individual training, physical training, mana exercises, and hours of meditation. Midway, Debora's parents had come to visit, bowing and scraping to Surya and taking Gwen's hand with tears in their eyes, thanking her for changing their daughter's life. Gwen wasn't sure what her friend had told her folks, but was nevertheless embarrassed by their supplication. And so, the girls' December ticked down, blending into one long stretch, until Gwen received a Message while out training in the woods. Ding! "I am back!" "Evee! Oh My God! I missed you so much!" Her thrilling voice drove the birds from the trees. "Gwennie!" Elvia' shrieking voice returned from the Message Device. "When did you get back?" "Just now, I am in Kensington. The ship took forever!" "How was it?" Gwen asked. "It was so boring— there was nothing to do but eat buffets. I think I put on at least two kilos..." Gwen laughed. She and Debs likely lost some weight, especially after her Caliban-wrangling in the woods, trying to get a feel for her vitality expenditure. "No worries. You'll work it off in no time! When can we meet up? I am at Opa's." "That's why I am calling you Gwen! I want to ask you if you are doing anything for Xmas." Gwen scanned her internal itinerary. There was nothing as far as she could recall. Her Opa had said that he wasn't one for the ceremonial celebrations of the Catholic Chuch. "I should be free," she confirmed. "What's up?" "My family's having a Xmas bash at the house, and mum wants to invite all of my friends." "That sounds wonderful," Gwen replied earnestly. She hasn't had a Christmas party forever. Elvia's party would be a wonderful and welcome experience. "There's going to be dozens of strangers there, and I would love it if you could come and keep me company," Elvia's begging voice was enough to melt her heart. "I'll be there!" Gwen declared imperiously. Elvia replied with halleluja. "Did you manage to contact Yue?" "Nothing yet, not even with my dad's Message Device. He says Yue must be in an Orange Zone because that's where we don't have any Divination Tower set up." "Alright." Gwen hoped Yue would receive the Message in time. A Christmas reunion would be just the thing. "Say, I am with Debora at the moment since she's interning under Opa, do you mind if I bring her alone?" "D-Debbie?" Elvia gasped. However, the girl was quick to repair her faux pas. "Of course! I'd love to have Debbie along!" Gwen laughed. Elvia was the best. "Great. See you in three days!" "See ya." The Message ended. Three days until Christmas, Gwen punched the air. If she could recall, Elvia's manor was on the North Shore, up near Avalon. From the Hunters, she would have to leave at sunrise to arrive at noon. Likewise, she had to tell her Opa that she'd have to spend the night at Elvia's, as returning home after midnight would be impossible. Closing her eyes, she imagined Elvia in a white dress. Suddenly, her heart was aflutter. Christmas couldn't come soon enough!

"Debs, are you sure you can't make it?" Gwen watched her friend's face contort with agony. She had petitioned Debora about the possibility of attending the Xmas dinner at Elvia's, but Debbie's response had been negative. Though Gwen had not expected it, Debora's parents were devout followers of the Nazarene. For the family, Christmas Mass was a holy rite. This year especially, the Arch-Bishop Anthony Fisher tended the flock at St Andrew's, a rare treat for Sydney's devout. "Are you not religious yourself?" Gwen asked. "I am religious out of habit." Debora smiled evasively. "The family's always gone to Church, so I grew up with it. Never had a choice in the matter. I even attended all the Sunday services until high school." Which likely coincided with puberty, Gwen nodded understandingly. When h school rolled around, Debora had started wearing shorter skirts and tighter shirts, becoming a part of the 'popular' crowd while Gwen contested with her family drama. For Gwen's part, her mother worshipped only the one true God called the social ladder. As for Morye, considering the number of girlfriends he cycled through, the man may as well be a disciple of Eros. As such, Gwen's religious education remained non-existent. But that didn't mean Sydney itself was a secular city. In a world of Mermen and monsters, Faith Magic was real, even if rare and highly secretive. Officially, according to the mandatory scripture classes at school, all the major religions were established by ancient Magi whose achievements may as well be divine miracles. Gwen, however, had never met a religious individual. Sydney's faithful, split between Catholics, Protestants, the Church of England and the Pentecostals, usually stuck to their wealthier suburbs. As for the Tower itself, modern Spellcraft perceived the old religions with ambivalent scepticism. After all, the social cost of challenging well-established orthodoxies was measurable. Historically though, the Church, the state, and the Mageocracy had enjoyed matrimony for almost two centuries. To its faithful, the Church taught that the Wild Lands were the devil's preserve, while the cities of man were the candles in the darkness. Some denominations even taught that Mages were a part of God's ineffable plan and that those who Awokened were the anointed. "... sorry," Debora finished sulkily. "I've been a brat for the last few years, and still my mum's been good to me. Faith or not, I have to go and pray with them." "That's fine, Debs, I'll eat enough for the both of us!" "Arrrgh! You better not lose your figure!" Debora teased. "Man, I am going to miss you so much!" Debora moaned. "I'll miss you too, Debs," Gwen said earnestly. She meant it too; after a whole summer spent cheek to cheek, the two girls as close as two kookaburras on an old gumtree. "Stay safe." Debora swung herself from Gwen's bed. Her friend's eyes twinkled before she pouted in an exaggerated, sultry manner. "One for the road?" Debora whispered winsomely, indicating a finger to her lips. Gwen leaned in— then kissed Debora on the forehead. "Get going, Debs! I have to get up at sunrise tomorrow, Avalon is six hours away from Pokolbin." Debora reached the door with a sigh. "See you at school." "Have a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year." "You too, Gwen." The door closed. Gwen laid out her outfit. From her wardrobe, she picked a high-waisted skirt, a white sleeveless blouse and a pair of ankle-strap heels. She also double-checked her transit card and her student ID. Gwen Song SID:: 0043598 Evoker:: 3 Elemental Affinity :: Quasi Elemental - Lightning (3) Her temporary ID displayed an already impressive statistic for a girl of sixteen. For the next year, she would train for a future of fame, fortune and influence. Such was the pie in the sky her Master drew. It was an admirable Path for Mage of her talent, yet at the same time, it was a future that filled her with was gut-wrenching anxiety. Becoming a Magister or a Tower Master holding tens of thousands of lives wasn't at all like running a consultancy. Real people, full of flesh and blood, could have their lives enriched or diminished at her whim. Was that a responsibility she was willing to bear? Gwen pulled her t-shirt overhead, stepping out from her sleeping shorts. The Gwen of sixteen didn't have an answer for that. The Gwen of thirty was likewise ignorant. Her only recourse was to keep on treading and keep her head above the murky water. The next morning, Tess drove Gwen out to the station, where she took the first train into the city. From Central, she took a cab to reach Avalon. Elvia's haunt was one of the wealthier regions of the Sydney Frontier, situated deep within a stretch of coastal water views known as the Northern Beaches. To Gwen's knowledge, the area was exclusively for Mage, especially those closely associated with the Mageocracy. Their peninsular, Avalon Beach, was a headland that extended out to one of the principal Shield Towers at the northern reaches of the city - Barrenjoey Station. The driver, a feller in a turban, was talkative and friendly, complimenting Gwen's attire before speaking out about the woes of working on public holiday. Overfamiliarly, the driver explained that he had two daughters who were turning seven and ten, and spoke at length about his anxieties regarding their Awakening. "You are so lucky." The man grew giddy when Gwen stated that she'd come from an ordinary family and that she had no idea why she was a Lightning Mage. "You must have done something great in your past life." The driver observed, grinning from ear to ear. "The way of karma, huh?" When the taxi had finally arrived at Elvia's address, Gwen was mightily impressed. Though not as absurdly elaborate as Uncle Kwan's Kirribilli manor, Elvia's home was far more modern. From the hill, the Lindholm's multi-storey home cascaded for seven levels down to its private jetty. As Gwen was fashionably late, the parking area was already inundated with expensive-looking cars. "Happy holidays!" The NoM driver waved to her before pulling carefully from the driveway. Alone for the moment, Gwen straightened herself and corrected her attire. She had worn her hair au naturel to complemented her pale skin and striking eyes. In the reflection, she could see that her mothers' gifted heels exaggerated her attire, lifting her calves and giving her long legs shape and definition. "Phew—" Exhaling, Gwen loosened her arms, then strode towards the door. She depressed the doorbell, and a jingle later, the front door opened to reveal a youthful blonde woman with bright blue eyes, maybe in her early twenties. "Oh my!" the woman exclaimed. "You must be Gwen!" "Hello." The two shook. "I am Gwen Song, and you must be?" "I am Elvia's mother, Elaina." Gwen felt genuine shock and surprise. "Miss Lindholm, I could have sworn you're Elvia's sister!" Her compliment was entirely serious. Elvia was sixteen! If so, when did Elaina give birth to her? How is it that the woman looked not a day over twenty. Stolen novel; please report. Elaina's laughter filled the doorway. "Welcome." Elvia's mother beamed, revealing brilliantly white teeth that starred in their very own dental commercial. "Come in, come in. Elvia couldn't stop talking about you the entire time we were on that cruise ship." They shook hands. Elaina possessed that rare genteel mannerism which some women affected effortlessly, impressing Gwen against as she entered Elvia's home. "Elvia!" her mother called out. "Guess who's here!" Gwen held her breath as the sound of heels musically approached. Her friend, the one and only Evee, appeared at the top of the stairs, a little breathless for the effort. Elvia was attired in white, as Gwen had anticipated, in a one-piece garb involving both lace and frills. The girl had grown in the two months since she had seen her, with a bit more curvature to hint at an indulgent lifestyle of buffets. "Evee!" "Gwennie!" The two embraced, Elvia slamming into Gwen's torso to bury her face into Gwen's bosoms. Gwen likewise wrapped her arms around the petite blonde girl and squeezed. Instantly, Gwen felt completed. "Ain't you two sweet," Elvia's mom cooed, fixing her daughter's hair. "Come on down when you're ready, Elvia can introduce you to the rest of the family." "How have you been, Evee?" "Gwennie— so much has happened! Uncle took me to a conference; we visited some refugee camps for NoMs; it was terrifying! How about you? Did you do anything interesting?" "Aah—." Gwen squeezed Elvia's cheeks. "Where do I start? How about we meet and greet your family first? It's the polite thing to do. I love you dress, by the way." "I like yours as well." "Aww—" The duo descended the stairs. "Did you hear from Yue at all?" "Nothing, I was so hoping she could make it today." "Damn, that's a shame." "Where is Yue anyway?" "She's training with Alesia," Gwen said. "Probably kicking ass somewhere. I am sure Alesia has Yue well looked after." They soon arrived at the second floor, where a massive living room led onto a multi-level deck, interconnecting the middle and lower levels. Impressively, her friend's house even had a private jetty. There were already people everywhere, a good thirty to forty adults and a dozen children. Despite the crowd, however, the unusual design of the house negated the limitations of space. "There she is!" Elaina raised a glass to toast. The attention of the room turned to Elvia and herself, a few individuals raising their glasses, while others inclined their heads, then returned to their conversations. As one, Elvia's family moved from their respective circles towards them. Of the group, Gwen recognised only Elvia's uncle, Hans, a senior Medical Mage who had been instructing her friend. Elvia's father introduced himself as Frederik Lindholm, the patriarch of their little clan. Handshakes soon exchanged all around, but when she arrived at a young man with the classic Lindholm blue eyes, he sneered at her. Surprised, Gwen performed a double-take. "Erik! Manners!" Elvia's father snapped. Gwen felt Erik's eyes measure her up. Rather than interest, Erik's gaze was full of antagonism. In retaliation, Gwen gave the young man the biggest, brightest smile she could muster. Like Elvia, Erik was good-looking lad, with delicate features and deeply set eyes. The boy's appearence, however, was decisively boyish. Gwen grinned, thinking that Elvia could have made a pretty cute bloke. "My apologies." Erik bowed, a hand resting against his heart. "I am merely awed at the austere presence of my sister's idol. The Lightning Evoker, Gwen Song." Frederike looked as though he wanted to smack Erik, but Elaina gave the young people a disarming smile, then directed Elvia's father away. "It's nice to meet you too," Gwen replied, her voice somewhat wary of this antagonising development. "We haven't met before, have we?" "No," Erik confessed. "But I have heard many nice things about you already from my friends." "Oh?" Gwen was even more puzzled now. She certainly had no friend beyond her immediate circle. "Patrick and Derek," Erik said offhandedly. "Who?" Gwen was genuinely confused. "Patrick and Derek." Gwen shrugged. Who the hell were Patrick and Derek? "Patrick... and Derek..." Erik repeated, sensing her indifference, the boy's face grew flustered. "They met you at a party in Kirribilli." Gwen wracked her memory. She recalled that when she had gone to Uncle Kwan's. Some of the boys had tried to get a little handsy. She couldn't remember their names though; she had been trying to concentrate on not obliterating them. "He means Dickhead and Emo." A voice called out from behind. From the ease by which the profanities flowed, Gwen knew the source to be her cousin. "Richard!" She spun. Behind her stood a bespectacled young man looking handsome in semi-formal, his Oxfords polished to perfection. "Cousin," Richard said blankly without any particular emotion, but Gwen sensed that her cousin was happy to see her. They hugged and exchanged cheeks. Richard's embrace was a little wooden, but it felt good, like slotting her body into a groove. "You smell nice," Richard remarked. He looked over at the red-faced Erik, then pointed to his cheek, where Gwen had just kissed him. "Are you jealous, Junior Erik? Gwen did not give you a loving peck on the cheek, did she?" "What!" Erik's face was the hue of pork liver. "What are you even talking about, Richard? What does that have to do with anything?" Richard's eyes twinkled, his glasses dangerously refracting the midday sun. "Gwen, do note that Erik is lashing out because he is physically attracted to you, Gwen," Richard observed dryly. "Hormonal attraction can often be confused with hostility." Elvia was reddening too, but unlike Erik, she was suppressing her uncontrollable laughter. Gwen turned to Erik and lifted the hem of her skirt, performing a curtsey that showed offer her long and shapely white legs. "Is that true, Erik?" she teased. "Do you like me?" "No!" Erik blustered. "Elvia— she— shit! Why the hell am I even explaining this! Richard! Stop it!" At Erik's expense, the trio burst into hyena-like laughter. "Gwen, there's something on your clothes." Oddly, Richard reached out and brushed at the fabric of her dress, picking what was probably lint from a shirt sleeve. "You'll probably have to show him a thing or two later," her cousin continued, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. "According to the rumours, you shamed my juniors from Prince's." He then turned to Elvia, apparently now satisfied that Gwen's dress was spotless. "Not to mention, according to Elvia here, you'd kick his ass in a second. That's quite the boast, coming from Blackwattle Bay." Gwen glared at Elvia, who looked away guiltily. "Evee, is this true? Have you been tongue wagging?" "Erik was mocking my school, our school!" Elvia huffed. Gwen flicked Elvia's forehead delicately. "Evee the troublemaker," Gwen admonished her friend mirthfully before turning to Richard. "So, how come you're here?" Her cousin was watching Erik, who had joined his other friends from Prince's. Currently, they were giving Gwen's group the stink eye. "I was invited by your friend here. She had heard about me from her brother." Elvia beamed. "She also told me that I was the only person in the family you could stomach." Elvia wilted. "... and also that my father was a fat bastard." "Surely Tali's aright? She's cordial, as far as I know," Richard framed his question in a manner that seemed entirely academic. "yes, Aunt Tali is a fine lady," Gwen agreed. "It's more so Uncle Kwan that scares me." "Kwan's just doing what he thinks is best, regardless of whether its best for you or I," Richard observed drily. When again, Richard referred to his parents by name, she sensed in the young man's voice a certain sense of detachment. "But, I digress. Do enjoy the party, cousin." "Thanks, Richard, I think I will," Gwen returned to her flaxen-haired companion. "Evee?" "Show me around the house? I want to see your room!" "Sure!" Elvia slipped an arm into Gwen's elbow. "Come on!" Richard strolled over to his juniors from Prince's. "Senior." "Senior." "Prefect Huang." All animosity aside, the boys were perfectly mannered when dealing with their senior. As a school, Prince's was very particular about mannerisms. "Gentlemen." Richard inclined his head towards them, returning their greeting. He regarded Elvia's brother, whose face immediately grew several shades redder. "What is with that horrible performance Erik?" The other two took a step away from Erik . "You embarrassed me," Erik accused Richard sulkily. "You embarrassed yourself." Richard's tone contained neither hostility or mockery. Erik looked downcast. Here was his house; he ought to be able to tell Richard to buzz off. However, he didn't dare. Richard belonged to the Four Houses as a Prefect. Meanwhile, he was just a junior Abjurer. Speaking unkindly to Richard would undermine his standing within the school's hierarchy. "Are you going to take it?" Gwen's cousin demanded without warning. The boys looked up at their senior incredulously. What was Richard up to now? "The pride of Prince's College had been trodden on, yet you fled like a little bitch. Then, instead of thinking about how to make things right, you all sit here and lick each other's wounds like milksops." "You want us to show up your cousin?" Erik inquired carefully. "You don't mind if we embarrass her?" "You think you can embarrass Gwen?" Richard scoffed. "You'd be lucky she doesn't 'kick your ass'. Did you think Elvia was lying to you?" At the mention of his older sister's words, Erik's blood was up. "Senior Huang, are sure about this?" one of the other boys intervened. Lightning was rare, but it wasn't Void Magic. Prince's had students proficient with Quasi-Element as well, and they were hardly indomitable. "Erik, it's your party, your call, bro." The other, a dark-haired youth, pushed Elvia's brother with a hint of smugness. "It doesn't have to be serious. We can drop her in the harbour, make a show of it. That sort of thing." Erik tried to imagine a bedraggled Gwen pulling herself from the water, water cascading from her dress. He would like that. It would be a bonus if his haughty sister cried as well. "I am asking you again, Senior Huang, you are not adverse to our challenging of your cousin?" "None at all. Not only that, if you do defeat Gwen, I'll personally vouch for you at the next student council election." "Alright!" Erik gave an expression full of expectation. "Lionel, Todd, you guys with me?" The other two boys nodded. "Great, I'll speak to Father. Let's see if we can duel on the jetty. I need somewhere with access to water." Richard watched his juniors go. "Ah, to be young." The Prefect chuckled to himself. Within his immutable heart, Richard sensed a sudden flutter of anticipation. From the moment Gwen had walked into the room, he had sensed the familiar aura of Conjurers radiating from her body. Furthermore, in her experience, Gwen had left behind the tell-tale traces of crystal residue left by feeding Familiars. Having practised Conjuration for most of his life, Richard sensed without a doubt that his conjecture had to be correct. And if Gwen did possess a Familiar— then her talent would be monstrous beyond belief!

While schemes both dangerous and devious brewed below; Gwen was busy marvelling at the fluffy decor of Elvia's pastel bedroom. The furnishing was like a catalogue's: a four-post bed, satin sheets, antique white walls, and shelves full of plush toys. Elvia sat on the edge, swinging her legs to and fro, an adorable life-sized doll. The duo had already been everywhere else in the house, greeting guests, sipping non-alcoholic cocktails and stealing canapés. Gwen was having the time of her life. In her previous incarnation, she had never had friends like Elvia, and so felt a little intoxicated by the euphoria of it all. "Why does your brother have so much curry?" Gwen borrowed an old Aussie proverb. "Well, its to do with my decision to pull out of Lilith's," Elvia confessed. "I guess he feels betrayed because Lil's and P's are brother-sister schools, they do a lot of activities together, you know, socials." "Like a boy-girl Formal?" Gwen puzzlingly cocked a brow. Elvia tilted her head puzzlingly, sometimes Gwen said the darnedest things. "Like our Field Trip. However, theirs takes place all around the world. Prince's supplies London Imperial— as such, they can access different Zones across three continents. The final trial is with schools from Tier 1 cities." "Sounds rough," Gwen remarked. She had yet to meet a single Mage her age from a tier 1 city. "Yeah, but also rewarding. If the other schools like you, you just might receive a scholarship! You'll get to live in a tier 1 city!" "So how come you're not going to Lilith's?" Elvia rolled onto the bed. "I was scared," she replied. "I was afraid that I couldn't be special like all the girls there, that I would awaken to something mundane. I went to Lilith's preparatory school, you should know. There are people there whose whole family were Quasi-Elementalists." "Well, you're a Positive energy Mage, your uncle is one, is your dad one? You're in good hands, right?" Elvia shook her head. "He's an Air Diviner." "Your brother?" "Water Abjurer." "Well then," Gwen tried one last time. "Your mother?" Elvia beamed. "She's a Positive energy Conjurer!" "There we go!" Gwen marvelled. It was little wonder Elaina looked so radiant and so fresh. Usually, those gifted with Positive Energy seldom aged. Conversely, people like her, afflicted with Negative energy, may skip ageing entirely by dying young. "Well, at any rate, your family has a genealogy of Positive Energy, so..." "I was still scared." Elvia pouted. "Who knows, what if I became something bizarre like an Earth Illusionist? I'd be just a non-elemental caster." "Why would you think that? No one in your family is an Earthen Mage nor an Illusionist!" "Erik said I was a weirdo, that I'd probably awaken as a rock." "Ridiculous! You are an Angel!" Gwen hugged her friend maternally against her bosom, soaking in some of that Positive Energy. "Say, last time, you told me that you were afraid of being set up." "There's that too." Elvia felt a little heat colouring her face. Gwen was very close. "A lot of the girls from Lilith's get married as soon as they graduate, I was afraid that mum had that in store for me." "Why would you think that?" "She's an alumna— and Dad's a graduate of Prince's." "Right. Gotcha." Gwen gazed at the ceiling, where a petite chandelier scintillated. "Are they happy together?" "Very," Elvia admitted. "You don't want that for yourself?" "I don't know." "That's alright, Evee. Do you regret coming to our school?" Elvia shook her head, spreading her flaxen tresses over the bed. "I am so happy I got to meet Yue and you." Elvia's accidental homonym caused Gwen to giggle indulgently. Elvia's appeared so cute that Gwen leaned in and kissed her on the forehead in a sisterly manner. In response, her friend placed a hand on her forehead, blushing mightily. Pinching Elvia's rosy cheeks, Gwen felt her bosoms all aflutter. "I am getting all kinds of thirsty." She lifted herself from Elvia's bed. "Shall we head down?" "Sure," Elvia said quietly, still rubbing her forehead where Gwen had kissed her. When they returned to the party, two young Mages were duelling on the jetty. Both contestants were in their swimmers, a young man and a girl. The young bloke was an Earthen Evoker. Currently, he was throwing tier 2 Obsidian Spears straight at the frail-looking lass. The girl appeared to be an Air Transmuter, and flitted about here and there, dodging the spears. The exchange went on for several minutes until the dramatic speed difference between them grew apparent. The Evoker had his shield chipped away until the transparent underlayer of his mana shield becoming visible. In his desperation, the Evoker switched to the tier 1 Stone Bullet to try and conserve his mana, but the Transmuter was simply too quick. Following another spell exchange, his shield glimmered. The Transmuter grinned mischievously as the lad put up his arms in surrender. There was a thump, and the young man flew off his feet, landing in the water with a spectacular splash. A round of cheers erupted from the house. Congratulations greeted the winner and her relatives. The girl gracefully walked back along the jetty and pulled the young man from the water. Laughter resounded, after which the young man received pats of consolation. Gwen felt immensely impressed at the sportsmanship. A friendly Mage Duel! How precious! "Evee, how often—" "Gwen Song! We challenge you to a duel!" shouted Erik Lindholm, Elvia's peevish blonde brother. Gwen's mind went blank. Erik wanted to duel her? The boy was a junior, and he was a Water Abjurer. Even if Erik had the talent to Awaken early, it wasn't until late puberty that Mages came into their power. "Duel me?" Gwen performed a double-take. "I am your senior." "Of course! You didn't think we're challenging you to a one-on-one, did you?" "You want to gang up on me?" Gwen blustered. "You're a legendary Lightning Elementalist, right?" "That may be." Gwen frowned. "But three at once? A girl can only take so much. I am not as experienced as you make me out to be." Without warning, Erik's flushed a deep carmine. "Gwen Song! Do you want to duel or not? We're all tier 2, so you've got a whole tier of spells ahead of us." "Evee?" Gwen looked toward her friend for advice. Elvia appeared equally confused. "Why do you want to duel Gwen?" her friend demanded, her blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why do you care? Didn't you say she could kick my ass?" "I am sure she could." "I concur." Gwen gave Elvia a thumb's up. Erik raised his voice so that the people around him could hear. "Gwen Song of Blackwattle! We, Erik Lindholm, Lionel Zachary and Todd Smith, of Prince's College, challenge you to a duel of honour!" The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Elvia's smile faded. "Erik! You can't bring Prince's into this! You'll make trouble for Gwen!" "Wait, what's happening?" Gwen said quizzically. When it came to these superficial rituals and social codes, she may as well be a blind man riding a deaf donkey. The rest of the crowd awaited Gwen's response. "Evee— do I accept?" "I don't know—" Elvia searched the crowd for aid. Thankfully, Richard stepped forward. "Gwen, you should teach these boys a lesson in humility," he remarked stoically. "Win or lose; they won't bother you again. I promise you that." In and amidst the anticipation, Gwen wondered what the masters of the house thought of all this. She found Elvia's father shrugging, while Eliana was made eyes at her son. Gwen looked towards Richard again. "It's three on one, Richard, are you sure?" "Rip him a new one," her cousin answered her with a twinkle in his eye. "Kick his ass so hard that his testes drop and Erik becomes a man." "Cough—" Elvia's father choked on an olive. Gwen met the boys' eager faces. "Fine!" she clasped the boy;'s hand. "Let's duel!" Elvia looked at the jetty worriedly. "Did you bring a cossie?" "Why?" Gwen asked. "Is Erik going to push me into the water?" She flashed her Storage Ring. "I got spare dresses, but no swimming suit, so this will have to do. Don't worry, Evee, I'll be right back." Below, Richard stood front and centre of the crowd while an older gentleman with the rank of Magus made himself known to the duellists. "First to shield break," the Magus announced solemnly. "Minimise damage to the surroundings; you break it, you pay for it." With long strides, Gwen marched herself to the end of the jetty. On either side, enormous pillars of ancient, salt-soaked wood anchored the pontoon in place, sloshing as the bean-green waters below beckoned their next victim. Gingerly, his cousin knelt over and removed her heels, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she unclipped each shoe. Richard's glasses gleamed. He could see that Gwen possessed at minimum a small Storage Ring, an uncommon item in the Frontier. The boys from Prince's soon finished setting themselves up on the opposite side. Their Adjudicator incanted a levitation spell and floated at a safe distance. "Ready?" Gwen nodded. The boys nodded. "Commence!" "Lightning Blast!" Gwen opened with her signature spell, a torrent of hysterical electricity ionised from the air around the boys and lashed out with blue-white tentacles of pure plasma, scorching the flooring of the jetty. "Water Shield!" Erik expanded a barrier of flowing water around him in a semi-sphere. To Richard's surprise, the shield reinforced itself by drawing water from the surrounding sea. "Absorb Elements!" Erik added to their team's defence. Against the boy's shield, Gwen's lightning fractured into glowing Lichtenberg figures, draining harmlessly into the bay, frying the fish feeding from the barnacles. Richard whistled. Erik was a better Abjurer than he had initially thought. "BLAST BOLT!" Gwen upped her intensity. With enough offensive power, all tricks melted away. "BREAK!" Her bolt pierced Erik's barrier and blasted the two junior Mages hiding behind the boy's shield. Gwen yelled with triumph, only to see the bodies fade into the aether. "Ah—" Richard nodded. "Well done. Projected Images." Immediately, Gwen switched to the defensive. To Richard's surprise, his cousin's shield was no less potent that than of a bona fide Abjurer. _SPAK! SPAK! SPAK!_ The barrier manifested just in time, three shards of ice skidded off her semi-sphere, transforming the locations where they'd struck opaque. Though Richard's juniors were novices, their volley packed quite a punch; the last of the boys was an Evoker, not to mention a Quasi-Elementalist like Gwen herself. _SPAK! SPAK! SPAK!_ A second volley of Magic Missiles struck Gwen's shield. Richard puckered his lips. His cousin shouldn't just keep defending as she was bound to be OoM sooner or later. "FLASHBANG!" _BUNG!_ An explosion of sound and light erupted above the three boys. Richard's eyes glowed with triumph, filled with the dazzling light of his cousin's Conjuration spell. Gwen wracked her head for something viable. She had been too reliant on Caliban and Ariel while she was out amongst the NoMs, and now she was struggling with her utilitarian Schools of Magic. In particular, she struggled to manifest Detect Magic, a spell which could discern if the boys were tricking her with illusions. For her present battle, she felt as though punching wool. Her current repertoire of Evocation such as Guiding Bolt, Lightning Blast, and Lightning Bolt wasn't very helpful against opponents she couldn't brute-force. Each of her staple spells was excellent in a straight-up fight, but she lacked the utility to nail the boys. To win, as such, she would have to play the match by ear and catch the Prince's boys on the backfoot. Therefore, forcing herself to calm, Gwen awaited the volley of Magil Missiles that would inevitably come. _SPAK! SPAK! SPAK!_ The ice shattered, turning her double-glazed barrier milky white. Instantly, she retracted her shield, clearing her field of view. Across the jetty, she saw Erik. There was a second figure hidden behind Erik, while the third boy hid behind his illusions. Gwen raised her hand. Erik pushed more mana into his shield. "Flashbang!" Gwen incanted the Conjuration variant, over-channelling her mana into the manifestation. The unstable crystal ionised from thin air, delivering a cacophonic cargo of sound and light directly over the boys' heads. "Arrrgh!" "Shit!" The flash turned Erik's barrier brilliant white, stabbing into his eyes. The young man who had been hiding behind Erik fell to this knees, holding both ears. Meanwhile, Gwen took advantage of the fulminating distraction to cast Detect Magic. Two down, Gwen scanned her surroundings. Erik and his mate were down for the count for now, but where was the third bloke? Where was their Illusionist? Her electric-blue eyes scanned the surroundings. Behind Erik, the Evoker was beginning to recover; realising that she had to make a call, Gwen pointed a finger towards the whimpering duo. "Lightning Bolt!" A zigzagging bolt of plasma arced through their air. The tier 3 spell struck the water shield, scattering motes of water and electrifying the surface. "ARRRGH!" Elvia's brother sounded like he was pushing his guts outside his body. His shield spluttered, but it held. Gwen cursed. She had underestimated these elite schoolboys; they were not like the small fries from Blackwattle, nor like haphazardly trained Mages from Blackheath. Unlike herself, the boys' foundations were built upon a life of privileged access to resource and instruction. In a one-on-one, she could smelt Erik like a nugget, but now she faced three of the little tykes. Likewise, while she fought alone, Erik had a party. While the Abjurer solely focused on defence— she had to do both. "!" Unbidden, Gwen felt the gathering of mana behind her. She instinctively dived. A water-blast erupted where she had stood a second prior. Were it not for her premonition; she would have copped the hit and tumbled into the water. Still, the liquid washed over her before she could erect a mana shield, drenching her diaphanous linen dress. "Bloody oath!" Gwen swore under her breath; the seawater rode up her skirt and made her feel ashamed and embarrassed. "Alright, you asked for it—" Gwen fumed. She would not show all her trump cards, but she may as well give them a show. Its the Xmas spirit after all. The Illusionist was visible now, clearly pleased with his sneak attack. The other boys were moving up, giving him support, recovering from their stunned state. Gwen took a deep breath. "Jump!" She leapt back. It was a universally known Transmutation invocation, one that was no cause for drama or suspicion. Simultaneously, she activated the Feather Fall effect stored within her ring. For a split-second, she hovered over the jetty. "Ice Spines!" "Magic Missile!" Both the Evoker and the Illusionist had recovered from their spell fatigue and now launched their renewed attacks. A shimmering sphere enveloped Gwen. Her stolen Abjuration talent made her barriers near-instantaneous. _SPAK! SPAK!_ _Thump! THUMP!_ Electrical sparks showered from her shield. The boys appeared aghast, unable to conceive that Gwen, an Evoker, possessed an impenetrable shield. Gwen began her descent. "Warding Bolt!" she invoked her new spells. In the next moment, twin orbs appeared beside her contoured silhouette, each a menacing ball of living lightning. "Call Lightning!" An ominous and dangerous-looking cloud formed above Gwen's head, rapidly coalescing until it blotted out the sun. A commotion broke out from the observing crowd, fixing jubilance with shock. Gwen's shield dissipated into the atmosphere. "Ice—" "Magic—" "No!" Erik suddenly realised that Gwen's spells did not require her active casting. _CRACK—CRACK!_ Blasts of electricity shot from each of the globes, lashing into the young Mages. The cloud above likewise made its power known, raining down an arm-thick bolt of purple plasma. Gwen watched as Elvia's brother grunted, somehow holding out against her semi-autonomous volleys. "Lightning Bolt!" She added to their already impressive burden. By her third volley, Erik's Absorb Elements faded. The boys' were at their limits. Gwen fought off the spell-fatigue clawing at her guts. Thanks to Evocation, her turret spells delivered full payloads at the cost of doubling expenditure. Finally, with the last of her mana, she gestured a finger toward the heavens, then with a flourish, pointed it towards the nadir. "Blast Bolt!" The clouds above them rumbled. _CRACK!_ Three separate bolts conjoined into one. No amount of reinforced shielding and Absorb Elements could withstand the combined effort of Call Lightning, Warding Bolt, and Blast Bolt. Before the crowd, a tidal wave of electricity washed over the trio, azure and white, violet and amethyst, crisscrossing until the boys were barely visible. "Halt! Halt! The victor is Gwen Song!" Their Adjudicator cried out. Gwen cut her mana channels. The electricity faded. The boys emerged looking worse for wear, their clothes smoking gently with heat; their bodies numb with static. "We yield!" The Illusionist and the Evoker both raised their hands. "Do you yield, Erik?" Gwen asked. "I yield," Elvia's brother announced dejectedly. Gwen exhaled. "You got lucky," Erik grumbled. The little twerp! Gwen gritted her teeth, feeling an ardent desire to teach the boy a lesson. When Erik added insult to injury by trying to give her a handshake as though they were equals, she instead pulled him close and planted a kiss on the cheek. As expected, the young man jumped back as though bitten by a Red Back, stuttering incoherently before fleeing from the jovial laughter of the crowd. "Thanks for the duel, Ma'am," the remaining Prince's boys introduced themselves. "Todd Smith, at your service." "Likewise, Ma'am." The other boy bowed. "Lionel Zachary." "Nice to meet you both," Gwen replied. "Please, just Gwen is fine." "May we ask a question, Ma'am?" Lionel maintained his tone of formality. "Sure." Gwen smiled, though she was still mindful of her drenched attire. "Are you... are you a Magus?" "Ha!" Gwen snorted. "No, I am just a student." Behind them, the crowd erupted. "Did you see that?" "Who had Detect Magic on?" "She as using Conjuration! Isn't she an Evoker?" Among the crowd stood Elvia, her mouth half-open in disbelief. Her parents, likewise, were staring slack-jawed at Gwen. And not too far from Elvia, her cousin's mind raced. Richard desperately wanted to know the depth of Gwen's talent. He wanted to know what her Familiar could be. Now that he's seen her talent, he felt left with even more unanswered questions. Besides him, the crowd boiled over, full of questions Gwen couldn't address even if she had the answers. When finally the girl grew too flustered by the attention, she took her friend Elvia by the hand, then disappeared into the depth of the Lindholm's multi-layered.

Thankfully, Elvia’s had an ensuite in which Gwen could change out of her bedraggled clothes. She liked the ocean as much as any girl growing up within thirty minutes of Cronulla, but the distinct stink of the fish-scented sea was difficult to dismiss. Elvia had asked Gwen to leave her dirty laundry, but Gwen stowed them in her ring anyway. The soiled attire was kept in stasis anyhow, and the very thought of Elvia or her mother sorting through her intimates was mortifying. Earlier, the crowd outside had been barking mad for answers. Gwen had none to give but hoped that things worked out so long as she didn't drop a big 'Void' bomb. In all honesty, having access to 'two' Schools of Magic wasn't all that amazing. What was surprising was the age at which she gained access. For the every-Mage, two Schools of Magic meant effort and tireless practice. Even her Master, Henry Kilroy, had first been a Conjurer, then a Transmuter, and finally an Evoker and so on. For her Master, it was his ability to tap into all four Prime Elemental Planes that made him truly unique. There was Sufina too, whose life-giving and life-draining talent gifted him the moniker of "Deathless Henry." Gingerly, she slipped on a fresh set of intimates, then a vintage polka-dot sundress she'd bought near Surya's. An NoM lady, a local dressmaker, had made the dress. She then towelled the water from her hair, using her hand to mould a one-sided fringe. The result was that she looked humble and country, but at least she was comfortable. Elvia's eyes sparkled when Gwen emerged. "Tell me everything!" Her friend took her hand and squeezed as though she was wringing juice from an orange. "I will! I promise!" Gwen replied. "Not now, though, maybe later? There are still guests out there. You have to the carols, don't you?" Elvia sulked. She loathed any form of attention, benevolent or otherwise. Still, her doting father, not to mention Gwen herself, very much looked forward to Elvia's performance. The Lindholms weren't religious by any means, but from the limited conversation Gwen had shared with the mother, they were immensely sentimental about Europe. The original Patriarch of the family was a refugee from the Austrian-Hungarian Empire and had kept all the White Christmas traditions alive, despite their exile since the sixties. "Don't worry, Evee. You look a treat!" She couldn't help but smile. Elvia in a white dress, singing Christmas Carols? Could there be anything more perfect than that? To no one's surprise, the moment Gwen re-emerged, they were surrounded. Gwen responded to all questions with the universal answer that she was not at "liberty" to speak on pain of ex-communication from her mysterious master. After loudly repeating her prepared response to a dozen guests, the old questions ceased. Now, they were interested in her personal life: was she dating? Who was her mother? What about her House? And so on. When Gwen again grew flustered, she caught Richard lingering stoically by himself at the buffet table, pondering the philosophy of which canapes he preferred. "Richard!" She called out. He raised his glass to her. She ran up beside him and hooked his elbow. "This is my cousin Richard, the heir apparent of my House!" she announced. "He will answer all of your questions." "I will?" Richard looked at Gwen with a raised eyebrow. "Help me out, Richard," she whispered beside his ear. "I don't know how to deal with these people. I can't even understand what they're talking about." "Fine." Richard inclined his head, then turned to the multitude. "You." Richard pointed to a questioner. "You first." "Does Ms Song have a partner in mind?" The middle-aged asked carefully. "No, but I sure as hope you're not asking for yourself. Next!" Gwen's face turned a bright scarlet, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake in asking Richard for help. Maybe she should stop Richard before he said something irreversible. The crowd murmured excitedly. "Who is the patriarch of the Huang Clan?" Someone else asked. "Surya Huang, my grandfather, Senior Enchanter associated with the Tower." More murmurs engendered. "The artist?" Someone asked. "The same." "He's an Enchanter?" A voice said incredulously. "I thought he just made er— art." "Does Ms Song's father belong to a House?" "No. Next!" "What is her father's pedigree?" "Abjurer Tier 4. Next!" The crowd appeared confused. Gwen's father was a nobody? That seemed hardly right. If she were the progenitor of her talent, it would make her less desirable then if she had a family history of curious multi-school Awakenings. "What does Ms Song look for in a partner?" Some who was more interested in Gwen herself inquired. "Magus and above. Tier five or go home. Next!" The crowd jeered. "Any preference in particular?" Richard measured Gwen expertly, placing a hand over her head and another floating down her hips like car salesman marvelling over the curves of a Pininfarina model. "No shorties. You must be this tall to enter. Next!" Gwen baulked. Richard was doing TOO WELL of a job, and now she wanted off his wild ride. Yet, the crowd was now jovial, and the atmosphere had lost the seriousness it possessed only a moment ago. Leaving Richard to his dog and pony show, Gwen slowly backed away and joined Elvia. Thankfully, the guests were soon out of questions after another volley of Richard expertly calling out 'next,' like an auctioneer. "Sorry Evee," Gwen apologised for derailing the Xmas gathering. "I think we should blame Erik! He was the one who made this happen." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Gwen agreed but still felt apologetic. "Miss Song—" On cue, they were joined by Frederik, Elvia's father, and an unhappy Erik, looking every inch the helpless kitten facing an impending bath. "Erik, apologise," Frederik commanded. "I am sorry." "It's alright, Erik," Gwen replied sweetly. "No worries, eh?" "Gwen." Elvia's father coughed to draw her attention. "If there's anything the family can do for you, all you have to do is ask." Gwen felt a little taken back. "Please, Mr Lindholm, you don't have to." "I am serious." The man remained solemn. "Please speak kindly of today's incident to your Master. The boy— he's not the best spell in the tome. I was at fault as well. When he asked for my permission, I didn't see any harm in it. That was short-sighted of me. If you need someone to blame, I would gladly shoulder the blame—" "Mr Lindholm!" Gwen interjected. "Please, it's fine. I promise. No harm will come to Erik or Elvia, or anyone in your family. We're just kids mucking around." Frederik's expression grew considerably softer than before. "Thank you." "It's me who should be apologising," Gwen replied earnestly. Frederik nodded, Gwen watched the father rufflke his son's hair, then brush a finger across Elvia's cheeks. "Take care of our guest, you two." The kids watched their father return to their mother with the good news. Elaina too, had been holding her breath. Gwen's eye met Elvia's own, and she could see the cogs turn inside her best friend's ash-blonde head. Thee girl was misreading the situation. "Whatever my talents, Evee, it doesn't change anything between us." She held Elvia's hand. "We're friends, AND we're a team! That's not going to change, no matter who my Master may be." Elvia's lovely blue eyes glowed with anxiety, seeing Gwen as though for the first time. Gwen guessed correctly that the girl was stunned by her father's attitude. If Gwen and Frederik were equals, then what of Elvia? What was her position in all of this? "But—" "No! Elvia—Evee! I am just Gwen, you know? Your friend!" Gwen wondered if there was something she could do to make Elvia understand. Erik looked downcast, likely realising that he may have screwed the pooch this time. The three thus stood beside one another in an awkward triangle: one didn't know what to say, one didn't hear what the other had said, and the other wanted to leave but couldn't. Ding-dong-DING! The doorbell proved a welcome distraction. "I'll get it." Erik left hurriedly. "Evee..." Gwen placed a hand on Elvia's shoulder. The humble healer regarded her friend warily, still indecisive as to how she should approach her friend in light of her new knowledge. When she’d first known Gwen, her friend had been a joke, widely mocked by the lowest Mage with the most meagre of talents. Then, Gwen had become a Lightning Evoker, grew close to the legendary Alesia de Botton, and now she was a Conjurer-Evoker. Moreso, Gwen had likely been apprenticed by a Magister, and now even her father was afraid of Gwen. If so, could they still be friends? Elvia's felt the weight of Gwen's affection like a ball and chain. Had she not forgone Lilith's precisely to get away from grandeur? She liked Gwen, she loved her, even; but now, Elvia wanted to cry. She had finally found someone kind and gentle, but now she wasn't good enough. Was her middling talent going to be a burden to her friend? Was Gwen going to tire of her when she inevitably left for a tier 1 city? "Evee? Hello— are you still in there?" Gwen watched Elvia enact the thousand-yard stare. She wondered if she should give Elvia a shock, a little zap from her fingers to jolt her from the stupor. The girl was overthinking things. "OI! I AM BACK!" A shrill cry rang out from the upper floor, rolling across the atrium. Erik stumbled down the stairs with a frightened look. "I... I think we're under attack!" He stammered. Following Erik's finger, the girls saw a familiar figure descend. Their eyes spied a pair of dirty leather combat boots still stained with ichor and blood, ending at the knees in military cargos. Above, two bandoleers of potions slung across the broad hips, hooked onto a stained combat suit. Across their intruder's shoulders was strung a hefty looking backpack with an assortment of camping multi-tools. And finally, somewhere in that mess of gear was a head full of matted hair, framing a heart-shaped face. "Rambo?" Gwen murmured, aghast the sight. "Is that Yue?" Elvia was agog and could say nothing. "Guys!" Yue shrieked from atop the stairs. She unclipped something, and her gear landed with a noise akin to two skeletons making out on a tin-humpy roof. "I've missed you so much! I MADE IT!" Yue sprang down the stairs two at a time. An arm that smelled like the jungle wrap around Gwen's neck and brought her closer towards a pair of suffocating bosoms. Elvia received a likewise treatment, being drawn unwillingly into the deathly embrace of survival training. It wasn't long before the girls' bodies went slack. Gwen staggered back, gagging and choking. Elvia turned green. "Ha-ha." Yue laughed jovially. "Finally you all get to share in my suffering!" Gwen circulated a mote of mana to calm herself before the canapes found their way back up. "It's good to see you too, how did you get back? Where's Alesia?" "Back to the apartment." Yue grinned. "I came straight here, wasn't going miss Xmas. It's Elvia's party, after all." "I thought you were out of contact?" Elvia forced herself to swallow. "Did you get my invitation, after all?" "I received it as soon as we hit a Divi-Station," Yue said. "We flew and teleported as much as we could, fighting whatever critters came out along the way. Even so, it took us 8 hours! There was no time to change." "I can smell that." "I am so happy you're here!" The girls gushed. Gwen snuck a peek at Elvia; her friend had been sufficiently distracted, for now. She realised that, sooner or later, she had to come clean with her friends. Secrets festered when left unscoured. "How much time do we have until your performance?" Gwen enquired. Elvia looked at a clock. "About thirty minutes?" "Good. Yue, get yourself cleaned up. Evee, can Yue use your bathroom?" "Sure, I'll get her a change of clothes." Gwen passed a hand over Yue's gear, stowing the lot in her Storage Ring. Yue whistled. "Moving up in the world!" "It's a long story." Gwen studied Elvia, before turning back to Yue. "Later, I'll tell you everything, I promise." Yue read the awkward atmosphere. "You guys have a spiff or something?" "Nothing like that." Elvia smiled, reticent in her manner. "I'll be back!" Yue shrugged. "Whatever your problems, point me to the ensuite first." Gwen changed again. This time out of her Yue-soiled dress and into a pair of white shorts. As for Elvia, it was no surprise she had an endless wardrobe of white dresses. After the costume change, the girl left Gwen and Yue alone to await the night's final festivities. Behind the sliding door, Yue showered, humming a little tune as she washed off the grime, moaning from the pleasure of hot water and cleansing, moisturising soap. "So." Yue's voice penetrated the door. "Are you up shit creek without a paddle?" "Yep, I am stranded in a sea of shit." “Yikes. But have ya Awakened in the school of Paddles?" Gwen snorted. “Sorry, spent a lot of time with soldiers, picked up some bad habits.” “Nah, the candidness is refreshing.” “Well, don’t let it grow on ya.” Yue finished showering. “I am trying to control myself around Elvia, wouldn’t want our innocent Evee to pick up a bad habit.” Yue slid open the door. “Whoa,” Gwen turned away, blushing fiercely. “Your puppies are out and about.” Yue shrugged impressively. “You get used to it in the field,” she replied. “Showers are rare, and leeches the size of snakes live in the rivers. No time for modesty or comfort.” “What the hell did you do?” Gwen asked with her back turned. There was the sound of clothing shuffling on hurriedly. “Yue, are you decent?” Her answer arrived in the form of a pair of arm wrapping about her waist. “It’s good to be back in the real world.” There was a dark edge to Yue’s voice. “Yue?” “Just a moment,” Yue answered. “Just need to make sure this is real and not a dream.” Gwen remained still. “I am real.” “I know.” "What some tissues?" Yue dabbed at her face. “Okay, I am good. Let’s go see how our daughter is doing, mother.” “What? I always thought I was the father,” Gwen inquired suspiciously. “Ha! You wish!” Yue laughed, obnoxious invading Gwen's privacy, making her yelp. “Jesus, you lose weight? Wheres the meat gone?” “I worked it off.” “Another long story?” Yue's wandering hands retreated. “Bloody oath, you're all Gwen and bones. Nobody likes that!” “I’ll work on it— wait, what's that?” The sound of music came from above. “We’re going to miss Elvia's performance!” The girls entered the living room as the carols were about to begin. A dozen of the children, mostly boys in white shirts and ivory vests, were lined up by the jetty. A Conjurer had created hundreds of floating Dancing Lights, lazily swimming through the air and over children. Like fireflies, the twinkling sparks danced across the water, illuminating the singers. Elvia stepped forward, resplendent in the white light, glowing faintly with an aura akin to celestials. She gazed upwards toward Gwen and Yue, her luminous blue eyes twinkling with emotion, then began to sing. _Stille Nacht~ Heil'ge Nacht~_ _Alles schläft; einsam wacht_ _Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar._ _Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar,_ _Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!_ _Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!_ The sound of angelic voices and soft piano music faded into the darkness of the bay, commemorating the birth of a God-like being that would change the world for the next millennia. And as the song reached its crescendo, the girls stood alone with their thoughts and their stories, awaiting the long night.

After copious volumes of Christmas pudding with a massive dollop of ice cream, the girls had watched the Dancing Lights slowly drift outward, dying in darkness. Now, they retreated into Elvia's bedroom, each pilfering cushions from the other rooms. Gwen was giddy with excitement. A sleepover was something she had never experienced. It took an hour for the small talk had been exhausted, and then it was time for business. Like back at the dorm, each of the girls took up one corner of the four-post bed, Elvia sat against the headboard, while Gwen and Yue leaned against the posts, buoyed by cushions. "Alright," Yue began. "Let's get this show on the road! There are no secrets tonight! It's tell-all and show-all! Let's begin with the least traumatic of events. Elvia, out of 10, how do you rate your holiday activities?" "Umm..." Elvia's big blue eyes rolled in their sockets. "Seven?" "Ooo, very impressive." Yue cooed dramatically. "I'd say my blood-soaked story of jungle survival is about a nine. What about you, Gwen?" Gwen chuckled uncomfortably. "Twenty?" "..." Yue raised both eyebrows. "You're not going to tell us that you're a middle-aged man polymorphed into a high school girl, are you?" "Oh, I wish." Gwen smiled weakly. "I just hope you don't think I am lying or making it up, that's how ridiculous my story is." "We'll try our best." Yue breathed in deeply. "Elvia, you're up first." Elvia's face took on an intense concentration. She began to speak, first about her work at the clinic, then later, the main event. "Every year, our family volunteers for charity work. This year, they were headed to the refugee camp in Manus Island." "We arrived in early November, so the weather was both hot and humid. The camp we were going to was inland, so we had to take a local charter ship up the river to reach it. The entire waterway was lined with humpies as far as the eye could see..." Elvia could hardly believe her eyes— or the stench. The camps along the river extended as far as the eye could see, invariably the same sites of sadness and abandonment. For the inexperienced Elvia, a few hours was all it took for the immutability of the island's poverty, the enormity of it all, to drown her mind. According to her unce, there were very few rules on the island, the refugees from the Mermen incursion had been given food, some resources, and then largely left to their own devices. Here on the island, the strong was merely an accident arising from the weakness of others. The rare Mages who lived among the refugees became the natural masters of a place without rightful rulers. Both bullies and thugs, they hoarded food from the supply drops, warred with others too weak to fight, and aggravated murder and mayhem for sport. For Elvia, their destination was the root of the river, the last bastion of order upon the island. There, the Mageocracy's volunteers had set up a station that offered refugees a place to receive medical attention, ensuring that no pandemic exacerbated an already hopeless situation. As expected, the station was understaffed and overwhelmed. No matter how many volunteers and families from the cities came to help. The loss of the Micronesian islands to the Mermen created an endless wave of refugees, some escaping from slavery, others from chattel pens, filtering toward the single safe refugee the currents would allow - the Frontier nation of Australia. The ship's first stop was a place ironically called Eldorado, a large camp housing about two thousand individuals. To Elvia, "Housing" was a word her uncle used ironically, as rugged jungle smothered the island, making the atmosphere intolerable. Indeed, Elvia was already melting under the oppressive heat, travelling up that river was like entering into the primordial past. And behind their camp, the jungle panted, impenetrable and inhospitable. When the boat finally docked, Elvia immediately cursed her naivety. In Sydney, she had envisioned a field hospital with nurses in white linen. Clerics, NoMs and Healer-Mages alike would be standing shoulder to shoulder, working to alleviate the pain and suffering of the refugees. What befell her now was a circle transmigrated straight from hell. For what greeted them were hundreds of refugees, dark faces blunted and burnt by the sun and the humidity, with hungry eyes that swallowed the new arrivals. "Hans, welcome back." Elvia's uncle was greeted by a young man whose coffee-coloured skin was dark and leathery, peeling here and there. "Had a cyclone come through last week, things have gotten pretty bad." "Kali, good to see you again. What's the damage?" Hans asked, motioning for Elvia and a few others to join him on the shore. Elvia stepped onto the plank and was immediately the centre of attention. Compared to their surroundings, she was too clean, too radiant, a pure being in a place full of things that slithered. Kali rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "This is?" he asked, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "My niece." Hans introduced Elvia, who waved at him demurely. "Make sure she's safe." "Of course, Dr. Lindholm, anything." Kali bowed toward Elvia, currently hiding behind her uncle. "Anything you need, Mistress Elvia. I shall protect you with my life." Hans offered Elvia a hand. "Have courage, Elvia. Kali will see to it that you are safe." Elvia met the young man halfway. Kali took her hand and marvelled at its flawlessness before touching it to his forehead. "I am your servant, Mistress," the native declared. "He's an Earthen Abjurer." Hans gave the young man a firm pat on the shoulder. "Now, as I was saying, what was the damage? How's the triage centre dealing with the patients?" "Currently, we have forty blues, twenty-two greens, five yellows and two reds. More are probably coming in." Elvia gulped. "Uncle, that's a lot of patients." "Elvia, everyone— Come, let's get to work. Kali, round up some men and move all our spare tables and chairs into the Triage centre. We're starting with the reds. Jones, Thomas, Clyde and Elvia can handle anything Orange and below." "As you say, Dr Lindholm." As they moved through the camp, pained faces stumbled from olive-green makeshift camps to gawk and stare. Most of them were topless, the few of them that had clothes were sweat-stained and soiled here and there. When they saw Elvia, a ripple emanated from the crowd, with fingers gesturing at the blonde girl. Hans frowned. "Kali, what's going on?" Kali hollered something that the gathering. "Catapult!" the Abjurer suddenly incanted. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. A boulder the size of a man's head flew through the air and struck a coconut palm, snapping it in half. The tree then toppled into the jungle, crushing all protest from the crowd. "I want a perimeter kept." Hans nodded approvingly. "If they're not sick or dying, they're not welcome." The Triage centre itself was a mess. Whatever it had stocked was long looted before the medical team had arrived. Hans growled and ordered the beds and tables set up again. Once done, he and the other doctors passed a hand over the empty tables, materialising equipment, potions, and medicinal instruments from his Storage Ring. "Start sorting the sick. I hope the locals still have the tags the last team left." Elvia stood at her station, her fingers trembling. Even with a cooling glyph set up in the room, it was stuffy and the air stank of sweat and antiseptic. Her uncle sorted the new patients, prescribed them with the level of healing required, after which the orderlies took them to the station with the relevant Healer. _Shrrrrk!_ Her curtains parted with a start. A young woman with a bruised and battered face entered. "This one needs a Cure Minor, examine her for infectious diseases." The orderly pulled the curtains close once again. "H..hello," Elvia greeted her with a nervous voice. "I'll be healing you today, please lie down on the table." The woman obeyed. Elvia performed as she had been instructed by her uncle, initiating a head to toe. When she pressed on the woman's stomach, her patient winced and began to moan. Elvia placed a hand upon her abdomen and incanted an altered form of Detect Disease and Poison composed for diagnostics. "Oh... Oh no." Elvia's eyes widened in shock and horror. "You've had an..." The woman met her eyes with a resignation that made Elvia feel sick. Elvia examined her body with growing horror. The young woman had bruises all over her torso; additionally, there were lacerations on her low body. When she moved to check between her thighs, the woman shook her head. Elvia looked up. "Heal, please," the woman begged. "But I..." Elvia was feeling her eyes watering up. "Protocol says I need to..." The woman's hand grabbed Elvia's wrist with surprising force. "Heal, please," she begged again. "Elvia, tick-tock!" The orderly pulled at Elvia's privacy curtain. "There's a line." Wordlessly, Elvia placed her hands on the woman's abdomen. "Heal Minor Wounds. Remove Disease." A green glow suffused the young woman. She moaned as the flesh knitted with that soul scratching itch which came with magical healing. The woman cried out — the more potent the mending, the worse the bone-deep itch. When finally the magic faded, her patient slipped off the bed, exhausted by the toll of the body's regeneration. "Sank you," the woman muttered before she stumbled out. Her next patient was a young boy with a broken arm in a makeshift split. The next was an older man who leered at her with a toothless grin - he had an infected eye. The next was another young man who tried to speak to her in a tongue she could not understand. When he got handsy, so the orderly beat him black and blue and threw him out. Another boy arrived with a gangrenous foot. Another came, and another went; an endless stream of suffering that seemed without end. "I am so sorry." Gwen moved closer to the petite girl, putting out her arms to envelop her. The girl hesitated, but ultimately relented and nestled herself between Gwen's arms. "That must have been horrible." "Uncle said I needed to see the world," Elvia noted sadly. "I don't blame him. I think I really did need to see it. I'd never thought such a place could even exist." "So then what happened?" Yue could sense that there was more. There was always more. "Things were okay for a month or so. We went from camp to camp, doing our best. The people who we helped started calling me the Ensel, and we were drawing out folks who were hiding in the jungle." Elvia suddenly made a crestfallen expression. "And that's when it happened." "Buk off!" Elvia knew there was something wrong when a rough and foreign voice heavy with the accent of the local Tok Pisin dialect shot over the ambient moaning of the patients. Driven by morbid curiosity, she opened the curtains, revealing a group of thuggish looking natives clothed in what looks like the multi-coloured garbs of woven-grass. Above these tribal garments, the thugs wore western singlets stained with sweat. The speaker was a corpulent man wearing what appeared to be a crown woven from blonde grass. Across the floor of the triage tent, their eyes met. Instantly, Elvia's heart sunk. "Who's the Kin' here?" the man said in a mix of local dialect and English. "I am." Hans stepped from the group of impatient-looking doctors. To the man's surprise, none of the staff looked particularly afraid, merely annoyed. "Where are you from, friend? What we have here is a medical facility; there are no HDMs nor precious metals for you to loot." Elvia knew from where the man hailed. He was probably from a local tribe and having Awoken as a Mage, now fancied himself the king of his tiny corner of the earth. It was the typical story here. The local warlords had instigated almost all of the conflict with the refugees. In the past, the Mageocracy had attempted to quail the locals with force of arms. That had ended badly, and here was the end-result of their failed colonial efforts. "I am a pawa-ful Magician," the man said. "I hear that you have the Ensel here. I have come to take her as my meri." Elvia blanched. Her uncle blinked and quickly glanced at Elvia. She recalled her uncle hinting that there might be some trouble, but had also anticipated that no one would bother the doctors literally in the process of saving lives. From the looks of it, her uncle has underestimated the allure of a pale, blonde healer to these local warmongers. "I am afraid that is not possible," Hans apologised, speaking slowly so the man could understand. "Elvia is not for you." The man grinned, pointing at Elvia. "Is this the Ensel?" The man pointed. Elvia's eyes grew as wide as hen's eggs. "Come to Luluai!" The man walked towards her. Elvia backed away, bumping into a table, sending its cargo of steel trays and syringes tumbling. Her uncle clicked his tongue, dismayed by her clumsiness. "Kali!" Hans called out. No reply came. "Ha! Your bodyguard is defeated. He was no match for me in a pait!" the man boasted. "Did you kill him?" her uncle's face grew stone cold. "Who knows?" The man shrugged. "Now, Ensel, come with me. I will treat you nicely, and then we can do the biktaun as maritman and meri." "Was he gentle on the first night? I can't believe you didn't invite me to the wedding." Yue jested rancorously, chuckling at the morbidness of her imagination. "Yue!" Elvia protested. "It's not funny!" "Alright, alright, then what happened?" Yue apologised, putting up her hands. Elvia paled. "Then, Uncle got super angry..." Elvia's uncle was a patient man, but even a saint's patience had a limit. When the village idiot boasted that he had bested Kali, Elvia witnessed her uncle's upset. In the week they had spent together, Kali had been beyond helpful. Without the local man, the team's progress would be set back many years, perhaps losing access to entire areas of the island altogether. The other doctors, Elvia among them, felt Hans' anger rise like pent-up magma rising through the crust. They knew what was about to happen next and began to find cover. "You want to try me, mon?" The man's eyes glowed. A sloshing sound bubbled from the ground. To their surprise, the earth around the man began to liquify. An Ooze Mage? Elvia recognised talent. It was a rare talent. The man could have made himself something in the cities. Ooze Mages were one of the rarer Primary para-elementals, specialising in protective and debilitating effects. Here on the island though, the Mage was a source of pure misery. "Elvia, you might want to look away," Hans warned. Elvia could hardly move. She'd never seen her uncle fight before, and she'd never seen an Ooze Mage before. "Oo Supia—" The Ooze Mage began, but before he even got halfway, Elvia's Uncle finished a tier 5 healing magic. "LIGHT OF ABSOLUTION!" A pillar of light surrounded the man. A non-existent shield of mud instantly evaporated, revealing a pulsing beam of pure Positive Energy. The shock of losing his shield disrupted the man's tribal spell, and their assailant wondered for a moment if he was about to die. When he did not, he gazed upon Hans with an evil grin. "Your spell does nothing," the Mage mocked her uncle. Then suddenly, the smile froze on his face. His body began to swell. First his limbs, then his torso. Within the man's twisting abdomen, organs tore and gashed, bloating with cancerous cells. There came a sound of muscles tearing and bones wrenched from their sockets. In his final moments, the man's head grew the size of a watermelon, or perhaps a boil on the verge of violent expulsion. "Elvia! Take cover!" Her uncle dived behind the table. "Elvia, back behind the curtains!" The crew ducked behind whatever they could. Elvia stared, fascinated with shock. Then, the human water balloon exploded. Yue dry heaved. Gwen cradled Elvia like her baby, hugging her whole-heartedly and squeezing her tight. The poor girl! Her poor Evee! "I— I was so glad I had my mask on," Elvia sobbed. "Otherwise some of it might have gotten in my mouth..." "Elvia! No!" Yue rolled around the bed, unable to control herself. "Uncle told me that this is why we Positive Energy casters need to stay away from the front lines. Our spells are slow, takes time to manifest, easily shielded against, and can be unexpectedly inhumane." "How is that seven out of ten? I am being traumatised for life here!" "Oh, you poor, poor thing!" Gwen kissed the top of Elvia's head, feeling her soft, boneless body in her arms, not ever wanting to let her Evee go. Yue recovered, panting as she laid on her back. "Phew, alright, that was intense." Yue fanned herself with a hand. "Your turn?" Gwen asked. "Well, I don't know if mine is still a nine after that, but alright." Yue lunged forward, obscenely bouncing on the bed to face the girls. Gwen covered Elvia's eyes. "Well, I was with Master Alesia," Yue began, her eyes clouding with recollection. "So naturally it all began with a Fire Ball..."

"An empowered Fireball specifically," Yue gushed. "The very first Metamagic that Alesia taught me. It's Evocation mixed with Transmutation." Yue wanted to begin her recount in medias res. The girls, however, demanded context as they couldn't make head nor tail of Yue's pyrotechnic, Michael Bay epic. "Alright, alright, sheesh. Give me a second..." Yue had to recount several times to get her story straight and figured out the chronology of her flashfire flashbacks. "So, we're on Moreton Island, off the Gold Coast. The coast guard had requested heavy ordinance from the Tower, which meant Alesia. Master was already gunning for an opportunity to get me blooded, so she agreed on my behalf." Yue went on about how she was still half asleep when Alesia grabbed her, then flew out to catch the troopship with Yue in her pyjamas. "The Island was a FOB between the Great Barrier Reef and the Coral Sea. As for why it's there, it's because of that mumbo-jumbo we learned in Geography class— trade routes to the South China Sea and what not. The Tower lost contact with the base after a cyclone came through in October." "Anyway, the troop carrier ran into some trouble along the way. We got rammed by a giant squid that tried to topple the ship. Master killed it, and we ate grilled squid. Squid tentacles as thick as your leg? Yes Please! Then when we're almost to the island, we got boarded by Crab-folk, I think. Anyway, they were surprisingly good steamed with soy and ginger. We kept going, and as we landed, these fish folks were attacking the harbour. Boom! Sashimi two way, with chilli Fish head soup." "..." "..." The other two girls regarded one another. "You ate them?" Gwen asked. "Raw?" Elvia said. Yue blinked. "Was I not supposed to?" Gwen suppressed a gag. Should Yue have eaten her prey? There were no right answers to that. The consumption of Magical Creatures was essential in the development of human civilisation and its magical war-potential. At school, the girls ate them by the tableful, but those weren't intelligent creatures, or were they? There was a Caliban's length of ethical dilemmas that assailed Gwen as she tried to step into Yue's shoes. "You said PEOPLE— talking, walking, sapient people. With villages and stuff. Civilisation." Gwen reiterated, slowly realising how ridiculous she must sound. Yue regarded her friend puzzlingly. Sometimes, Gwen said the darnedest things. "Fine," Yue sighed. "Anthropomorphic Magic Creatures. Better?" Gwen felt her gut clench. "Anyway, Evee, the sashimi was amazing. So fresh, you could taste the mana just rolling off your tongue." "That sounds delicious," Elvia cooed. Gwen tasted bile, wondering if there were vegetarian Mages. "Regardless, we arrived at the island, and its a fiery mess. By the way, Alesia brought the whole team with us— do you remember Billy and all that?" Gwen did. Elvia did not. "There's Jonas, Alesia's Cleric. Paul's the translocation Conjurer-Transmuter. Taj the Water Abjurer and Billy is the Diviner. He's responsible for communications. He asked after you several times Gwen, I think you made an impression on him." Gwen's cheeks burned pink. She recollected that the last time they met, she wore nothing but a robe. "So we landed," Yue continued, using her voice as much as her hands. "Off the bat, Alesia gets me buffed - Flight, Iron Skin, Aid, Resist Elements— the works. I am all jacked up and ready to go, you know? She's like, go out there and get me some crab legs! I am all like, 'Yes Ma'am!'" Elvia cooed. "That's right! So we took off from the troop carrier and rocked that bitch like the Valkyries of legend..." Yue watched her first empowered Fireball bloom into a scarlet blossom of death, sending bits of fish-folk spiralling like rag-dolls here and there and everywhere. The Murloc, or perhaps the Sahuagin— Yue couldn't tell from this distance, scattered and ran for cover. The Mermen had thought themselves safe after overpowering the outpost, and now paid the price of their naivety. A few of the legged-fish took to the fort itself, throwing spears and shooting poison-tipped arrows at the two Mages from behind cover. Their ineffective weapons ricocheted from Yue and Alesia's Iron Skin enhanced bodies, making long white marks where they struck. Alesia halted Yue's immediate retaliation and fired a mote of flame through a window. Her Scarlet Caracal spirit could differentiate between friend and foe, and so could effortless purge the fish-eyed Murks. _WHOOMPH!_ In the next instant, the windows blew out. A dozen fish-folks, blackened and seared, tumble from the second-storey window. "Match my speed and follow my flight trail. Attack every second volley. Beware Danger Close as the ground troops move in." "Yes, Master," Yue obeyed enthusiastically. Master and student circled the base while Jonas and the rest of the team arrived with the reinforcements, clearing out the 'Murks' as they went. Yue observed a creature getting skewered by a spear of stone that erupted from the earth. According to Alesia, Mermen without a dorsal fin were Murlocs; those with fins were Fish-folk. "Scorcher!" Yue sent out her new spells, testing their combat effectiveness. Radiant lines erupted from her hands, jet-streams of fire so hot as to turn white and blue struck the little diminutive fishes below, taking off limbs and heads, setting others ablaze. When a cluster of three or more appeared, waving their primitive spears, Yue sent opted for a Fireball, blowing the unarmored beings into giblets of smouldering meat. _PSSSZAK!_ They were on their third pass when a bone spear shot from nowhere and skewered Yue mid-fight, sending her tumbling down below. Yue's iron-skin held, but the sneak attack had winded her. With a yelp, Yue fell. For an Apprentice, her borrowed Flight spell lacked the means to be maintained without concentration. Alesia watched her Apprentice impact the sandstone wall, skidding off the sides to land in a heap on the blackened bitumen below. Yue's Master cursed under her breath, then somersault turn in the air, diving for her student. The sneak attack had come from a window on the third floor. Below, already several Murlocs were converging on the fallen Yue. Caught for time, Alesia sent a Maximised Fireball into the window before landing with a flourish, the explosion behind her sending out a shower of glass and aluminium. "Yue, you alright?" "Yeah, just a little dazed." Yue slapped her thighs to offset the concussion, stumbling upright, bracing against the wall. "Think you can handle this one?" Alesia tested her apprentices' resolve. Yue nodded, clearing her grogginess through force of will. The Murks was coming closer now, half a dozen of them armed with bone spears and long daggers of Megalodon teeth. Heeding her Master's lessons, Yue waited for a moment more before making a semi-circled gesture with both hands. "Wall of Fire!" she incanted, pushing past the throbbing pain pounding her brain. A semi-circle ring of orange plasma burst into existence, catching the Murlocs as they advanced. Yue grunted as she channelled more mana into the phenomenon. Ahead, her flames flared and roared, stoked as though by an invisible wind, spluttering blue and white-hot, turning her foe into charcoal. "Phew—" Yue fell to one knee just as the final Murloc writhed and died. Her Master caught her as she sank to her knees, slinging Yue's arm across her shoulders. "Good work, Apprentice." Yue beamed at her Master and idol. "Let's get you back to Jonas." "Sorry I got hit." "It happens to the best of us. You'll learn in time," Alesia replied encouragingly. "Remember to be situationally aware at all times. Don't get distracted by fireworks. Fire and forget and never stop moving, never fly in a straight line." "Yes, Ma'am." By the time they got back to Jonas, the landing force had mopped up the stragglers. Billy had made a round through the perimeter, ensuring that no Murlocs remained on the base. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "I'll go get the crystal running," Taj offered. Alesia removed a Storage Ring, tossing him the spare Barrier Core. With the creatures this close, the base had likely lost its original. Unlike the barriers closer to the cities, these coastal stations were regional and isolated, and mostly self-powered. "I'll keep an eye out," Paul said, then left with Taj. Jonas approached, gazing worriedly at Yue. "Injured already?" he remarked, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is going to itch. Cure Light!" Yue shuddered as her bruises faded and her cracked bones mended. By the time the spell had run its course, cold sweat had soaked through her shirt. "Thanks, Jonas," Yue replied between clenched teeth. "Allie, are you sure about taking Yue into live combat?" Jonas questioned his commander. "Absolutely," Alesia said. "Yue can handle it. She's like me. Hell, I had a four-digit kill count by the time I was fifteen. By Yue's age, I was a Major." "That was a war." Jonas protested. "What do you call this then?" Alesia smirked roguishly, expansively moving her hands across the vista of the burnt and crumbled courtyard. "You know damn well what I mean," Jonas growled. "I am fine." Yue focused on a spot on the floor, forcing herself to resist the urge to pull her skin open so she could gnaw at her itching bones. "Well, I know Alesia thinks you're a tough nut, but take care of yourself. Don't be reckless." Jonas advised, rubbing his chin and scratching his handlebar moustache. "I will, thanks Jonas," Yue replied innocently, stretching out her arms, punishing the elasticity of the unforgiving fabric. Flustered, Jonas looked way for something else to occupy his mind. Alesia chuckled. Jonas was an old celibate. That's why they called him Father Jonas. He was also a worrywart, though Jonas made a damn-good Healer. A thrum rang through the air. The barrier was back. "There we go." Alesia patted Yue on the back encouragingly. "Mission accomplished. Easiest 10k you ever earned. How was it?" Yue seemed stunned by the news. "We get paid for this?" Alesia regarded her apprentice dubiously. "You don't think we do this for free, do you? The Tower may be many things, but a charity it's not!" "That's way too much money." "Why?" Alesia raised an exquisite brow. "I am a Battalion Level Magus, and you're my cute little ensign! Even you receive Danger Pay!" "It's still too much, Master." Yue protested. She had a total of four hundred roo-dollars in her student card, and that was after half a year of savings. She usually ate from the school canteen to save money on luncheons and dinners. "Bosh! You have any idea how much money you need to be a top rate Mage?" "Nope," Yue confessed. "Boots of Flying, Nagaskin armour, Ioun Stones, Combat Wands, Health potions, Mana potions..." Yue shivered at the thought of so much HDMs flowing out of her account. "I get you, Master." "Good, now let's see how the Harvesters are going. We get to keep fifty per cent of everything we kill. It took the harvester Mages and their NoM helpers the better part of the afternoon to gather the bodies and dig out the mana cores. Most of the Cores had shattered, although the team managed to recover about twenty odd stones of various sizes. "About two thousand HDM's worth Ma'am," one of the crewmen reported. "Would you like to take delivery now?" "Sure, shoot it over." Yue watched Alesia pass her ring over her share of the Creature Cores. She turned to Yue. "If you sense a powerful elemental presence in a core, it means there's a spirit in there. If you manage to find one, then you're in luck. A minor Spirit sells for about two to three thousand HDMs, an intermediate-tier Spirit like my Caracal, expect up to twenty thousand HDMs." Yue's teeth felt weak. "You starting to get the reason why I dragged you in here?" Yue wasn't big on critical thinking, but even she could sense a windfall when her piggy bank clinked. "To make Crystals?" she ventured carefully. "Exactly!" Alesia wrapped an arm around her apprentice, rubbing two fingers together. "Three things make a good Mage— good breeding, good training, and good resources. If you want to catch up to Gwen, Tiger, you better be rolling in the dough." "How much did you make?" Gwen watched as Yue imitated Alesia rubbing two fingers together in a conniving manner. "Hee..." Yue snickered proudly. "Wouldn't you like to know!" "Come on, don't be evasive." "Take a guess." Elvia lifted five fingers. "Five HDMs? Evee— cut me some slack." Gwen facepalmed. "She means five hundred." Gwen put into perspective Elvia's guess. "Colder." "Fifty?" "Warmer" "Two hundred?" "Colder." "One Fifty?" "Bingo, just about." Gwen tried to whistle but succeeding in only blowing a raspberry over Elvia's head. Thankfully, Elvia's eyes were already glazed over. She had her family's support, but that was different. She'd never had more than a hundred HDMs to her name. "Nice one, Yue!" "Hehe, thanks." Yue thrust her chest out proudly. "What happened next?" Elvia wanted to know what was so terrible about Yue's jungle island adventure. "So yeah, we stayed on the island for a while cause we had to Purge the place. Alesia used this opportunity to run me haggard. Day in and day out, it was 'Buff up! Fly out!' 'Blow this up! Blow that up!' 'Search and Destroy!' You know how it is, right? After a while, I kind of got used to it. Pretty sure we burned down half the island by the end." Unfortunately, the girls did not "how it is". "You want highlights? Alright." Yue relented after they pressed for more specifics. "Well, there's this thing, you see that we found... but Nah, it's not that interesting." Yue blanched, her facial muscles froze into a terrible grin. Gwen felt her heart lurch. Something horrible must have happened to faze the unflappable Yue. "You okay?" "Yeah—" Yue puckered her lips. "You don't have to tell it if you don't want to." Gwen moved across the bed and took her friend's hand, noting with mild alarm that Yue was cold and clammy. "Yue, are you okay?" "Bless!" Elvia reached over and channelled a few motes of positive energy into their friend, filling her body with a warm and fuzzy glow. "Thanks, Evee." Yue swallowed. "Okay, I am going to tell the story." The girls nodded. "No secrets," Yue reiterated. "None." Gwen's stomach lurched, mindful of its 'secrets'. "Alright." Yue seemed to have calmed herself. She squeezed Gwen's hand and began to relay the tale; her eyes focused on a middle distance. "So, I was out hunting when I ran into a Murloc Spawning Pool..." Yue had read in her sociology textbook that humanity was the only beings who kept chattel, mass farming domesticated quasi-magical beasts to provide food for its burgeoning citizenry. Before her discovery, she had been out on the lake's edge stalking prey. Alesia had a simple rule for survival training. You kill, you eat. To wit, Yue had been equipped with a small Storage Ring and a tracking amulet, then sent off into the Orange Zone to find dinner. Armed with a basic lay of the land, Yue ranged from the camp with her inexpert Transmutation, crashing through the forest like an Auroch in a terracotta shop. She had almost given up hope when, to her surprise, she had spotted a pig-like creature with a prehensile nose foraging for roots, utterly oblivious to her presence. From the back, it wasn't very impressive looking, akin to a stocky dog. It looked stupid, and according to Alesia's lessons, this meant one of two things - either the creatures weren't native, or it was unmolested by local predators. Looking at the honking porker, Yue was confident that it must have been stock kept by the colonists before they were wiped out by the Murlocs. Currently, the porker was eating something by the lake's edge. Very carefully, she evoked a Flaming Spear, an altered form of Scorching Ray re-shaped for penetration. With a Thunk! It struck the pig-like creature in the starfish, skewering the porcine beast with a quenching squeal. "YES!" Yue gave herself a crude chuckle before venturing from her hiding place. Knelling over her prey, she produced a bowie knife and began to dismember the beast, just as Paul had instructed. Now in a better mood, she hummed as she worked, whistling some tune that was popular back on Sydney's pop-charts before she left. She was mid-hack through extracting a rather delicious looking length of back-strap when a commotion happened on the shore opposite, some half a kilometre across. There was something on the lake. If Yue squinted against the sun, she could just make out what looked like a dam made from rotten driftwood and smashed up trees bundled together with vines. There was a Murloc on there, and he was manhandling a familiar, fleshy silhouette. Yue stopped her extraction of dinner from the butchered pig. There, paralleling herself, was a fish-man taking an axe to something that looked vaguely human. She could just make out the humanoid shape thrashing about before it collapsed. The Murloc then hacked here and there, throwing bits of red-pink flesh into the waters. "What the fuck," Yue mouthed to herself. What the fuck did she just see? Her oesophagus clenched hard as she wiped her gore-soaked hands on her shorts and shirt. When she looked down again, she finally saw what the porker had been eating. There was a human hand, cleaved at the wrist and missing a finger lying in the sedge. That was what the porker was feeding on. Yue crashed into the basecamp fifteen minutes later, her outfit torn and her legs were bleeding from trashing through briar thorns. "No wonder there's so many of the little fuckers around." Paul was hanging a cig in one corner of his lip, grilling fish fillets over red-hot coals. "They got themselves a Spawning Pool set up." "That explains how the local garrison got overwhelmed." Alesia clicked her tongue. "Little Murk bastards could get to maturity in three months if they just kept hidden in those lakes. Good work, Yue." Alesia clicked her fingers, and the camp's fires died out. "Fuck, my fish!" Paul groaned. "Fuck your fish. Get ready to move out, Raid configuration. We're taking out that village." "Yes, Ma'am!" The men saluted, then moved about camp, stowing their supplies. "Yue, Billy, get me a sitrep on this lake, I want a comprehensive Scry of the area." "Yes, Ma'am!" "Yes, Master." Yue directed on the map to Billy where she thought the lake would be, watching Billy's eyes turn white as the Scry took hold. When the Diviner finished, he turned again to the map and began to mark it with patrol routes, points of interest, and targets of opportunity. Yue watched Billy's work with fascination. Usually, Billy was a nervous, stuttering wreck, but the Diviner was an expert when it came to the cartographic markings. Alesia approached with the rest of the team a few moments later, packed and ready to rumble. "Brief us." Billy noted several entry strategies for Alesia's perusal, carefully combing over each item on the map. When it was all said and done, Alesia nodded with satisfaction. "Good work, stay back and open up communication with our basecamp at the beach, let them know we found the motherlode. I want the area completely purged. Jonas, Paul, set up extraction points here— and here—" Alesia tapped the map. "Taj, Yue, you two are with me. Taj, Paul, we're running extended buffs, plan for sixty minutes of full-combat engagement. I am going to Djinn up." "Yes, Ma'am!" "Alright. Buff up!" "Wait up," Jonas coughed. "You want to take Yue on this?" Alesia cocked her head. "What's wrong?" "She's not ready." Alesia turned to Yue. "You ready?" Yue's thoughts flashed back to that scene she had witnessed at the lake. She could still feel the rage boiling over. "I am ready." "See, she's ready." Alesia patted Yue on the head. Jonas said nothing. "Okay, ladies, here we go!" Paul began to channel. "Mass Flight! Enhanced Constitution! Freedom of Movement!" Taj followed. "Aid! Bless! Resist Elements! Iron Skin!" The two Mages broke into a sweat after buffing only Alesia and Yue. Taj then self-buffed, activating his Boots of Flying. Alesia stepped back ceremoniously. The men turned their backs as Yue helped Alesia remove her clothing, stowing them away in her ring. A glyph appeared beneath the Scarlet Sorceress' feet, three circles bisecting to form a triplicate mandala, spinning faster and faster until it tapped into the Prime Plane of Fire. Instantly, the air around the Evoker ignited. Hovering mid-air, Alesia's flame-spirit Caracal melded into her body. Scarlet flames erupted from her porcelain skin, her hair transformed into strands of red-hot copper, sending out a swarm of fireflies. Her blue eyes became two brightly flaring stars, white with heat and the rage of primal fire. Yue watched with eyes aglow with adoration and amazement. Here was the very embodiment of her most celebrated desire - the physical manifestation of "Firepower" in feminine form. Alesia cracked her neck. Her voice was hollow and God-like. "Yue, come! Today, we are Valkyries of Death, sowing discord and war in Odin's name!"

Gurglugg was the Chief of his domain, lord of all he surveyed. Though some have called Gurglugg a warmonger, he had been a wise enough Chief to enjoy the popularity of the clannish families that served under him. Indeed, no fish had starved to death since he took the reigns of power. For years, the number of young Murlocs proliferated, swelling from tens of clutches to hundreds! Soon, Gurglugg's kin would populate the island! At least, that was what Gurglugg had anticipated until one moon past. Now, the dreaded Landkin which plagued their island had returned, traversing the terrible sea. Upon their arrival, the Landkin annihilated his outpost and took the lives of sixteen clutches of younglings. Worse still, from the reports he received from Flurgluug, there were flying shamans among the Landkin who could rain down fire from the heavens. Cursed fate! The best his shamans could do was rain down mud and rot upon his enemies. How in the name of Buulopdegup was he supposed to fight that? As if that wasn't the worst of it, in recent days, his fishes began to disappear by the dozen, entire patrols evaporating into the air as though Buulopdegup ate them herself. In rows, his kin came to him with their petitions, their eyes oozing with mucus. _"My clutch-mate is gone!"_ _"They took my spawnlings! Gluuurp!_ " Bah! Gurglugg was sick and tired of their complaints. Of course, Gurglugg knew why their babies and their clutch-mates were disappearing. It was because they invaded the Landkin's base! The Landkin were so delicious once flayed. So convenient, these creatures were, to have skins that came with "zips" that allowed for easy removal. They were good labourers as well when made to work in the spawning pools, eventually becoming excellent fertiliser for the young when they grew weak and died. Now, Gurglugg had just a few dozen left, herded in the pens. Maybe he should use them to request peace? That had worked with the Serpents in the deep jungle, who left them well-alone when Gurglugg had presented them with human shamans. The Snake-kin liked to eat the shaman's brains and hearts, they were strange like that. Still, what was he to do? With the crystals they found and the flesh they harvested, the tribe could grow to two or three times its size! If anything, Gurglugg needed more time - time for the new spawnlings to be born, then he would be the Chief of a thousand clutches! Gurglugg shook his bulbous, whiskered head, sending out flying globs of sputum and phlegm, trying to align his thoughts. His intense mental concentration was almost at its apex when— _Boom—BOOM! Ba-BOOM!_ An explosion rang out, unlike anything Gurglugg had ever heard before. The stupid noise quickly turned into the sound of females shrieking their gills out. Gurglugg flapped his plump and corpulent body for the door, his legs as thick as small tree trunks. He snatched his favourite coral trident at the door and pushed past the seaweed curtains. " _Glurrrgh! Ghugh! Gooolp gul gu gu gullarg?_ " His answer came in the form of a blast of cacophonic noise that filled the air. Gurglugg's jutting eyes, each the size of dinner plates, moved to focus on a series of dots approaching them. With alarm, he realised the horizon was on fire, lit by a miniature sun. " _Goolp gul gu gu gullarg?!_ " He said to his guard. The stupid fish-spawn built like a mud sloop-house stared slack-jawed. Then the air grew scorching. Steam began to rise from the pool and Gurglugg could see the young below writhing in pain. _"Gulark uu Pulak! Goolp gul gu Glaark! Glark!"_ His cry of warning echoed across the village, reverberating across the lake. By now, his skin felt incredibly dry, like all the moisture had been extracted from his mucus. He gazed upward, sensing the presence of something too terrible to acknowledge. The miniature sun had arrived, blazing ochre and orange, radiating enough heat to wilt the wetland. His warriors used every weapon at their disposal, but could not harm the radiant being. "Flame Barrier!" The radiant Sun-God declared some edict he could not understand. Gurglugg did not possess eyelids and could not squint, but in the circumstances, he tried his best. Half-blind, he could just make out the silhouette of three humanoid figures. There was a flash of light. Gurglugg burned. The forest burned. The lake boiled. The world was on fire. As the Purge team approached, Yue could see Alesia's Wall of Fire cast a swath of destruction through the forest. Every inch of greenery they traversed became scorched earth, the trees wilting in the wake of their passage. From churning cinder came the figure of the Murks, hundreds of them, fleeing towards the safety of the lake, their limbs flailing wildly, the bright coloured flesh upon their heads pulsating alarmingly. Yue threw out a few Blast Bolts, watching the missiles detonate below. One bolt struck especially true, splitting a slow running one from the shoulder and sending its head flying. "Getting a nice count there!" Taj shouted over the music. "You over a century yet?" "Just about!" Yue hollered back. "Let's see how many are in the village," Alesia joined in. "You'd probably hit four digits." "Four digits?" Yue marvelled. "You'll see." Alesia laughed, sending out fireflies embers as she pressed forward. "Hey! Check out that fat one!" Yue spotted a rather large Murloc holding a trident. "I think that's a Patriarch," Taj shouted. "Let's get started then." Alesia accelerated to combat speed. The trio arrived at the centre of the lake, where Yue had seen Spawning Pool. Below, they could see hundreds of Murlocs swimming through water, trying to protect clutches of transparent spheres. Alesia's Avatar of Fire was radiating so much heat that the water below her began to ripple and steam in great broken rings. "Filthy fucking animals!" She spat distastefully. "How many people did they feed into that pool to get that many tadpoles going at once?" With a grunt, she clapped her hands together; the heat began to rise in earnest. In her Efreet form, Alesia was a human portal channelling the relentless energies empowering the Elemental Plane of Fire. "Flame Barrier!" She incanted, drawing upon her fathomless reservoir of elemental flame. Instantly, a wall of fire twenty metres high began to form around the Lake, licking across the forest in black gouts as the vegetation charred. From above, the trio watched as the flame formed a great ring that encircled the Murloc village in a matter of minutes. "Nothing escapes," Alesia noted for Yue's benefit. "Paul and the others will take care of the Pens; we take care of this." Murloc warriors emerged from the lake to engage them, great big hulking masses of fish-faced amphibians with bulging biceps the size of footballs. They launched spears of coral and bone from the waters towards the girls, peppering the skies with dark shards of poison and bone. Had Alesia and Yue been alone, they would have to use their speed to avoid the ground to air assaults, but this time, they had Taj with them. The Abjurer effortlessly blocked the Murloc's non-magical attacks, casting warding barriers of stone that formed below the girls like great bowls of dark clay. A glob of acid splattered toward the Mages. Taj blocked that too with another shield. "Yue, take care of it," Alesia commanded. Yue spotted the Murloc shamans below and began tossing Fireballs toward the surface of the lake, preventing them from surfacing. Meanwhile, Alesia extended both hands and drew a flaming glyph in the air. Another set of glyphs opened up above and below her. She was beginning the ritual for a tier seven spell of mass destruction, accessible to only in her Efreet form. Yue fired off another volley Fireballs, watching the orbs impact the lake's surface, scalding the creatures hiding below. "Fire Storm!" Alesia exhaled. From the heavens descended a tornado of swirling fire that plunged into the lake, wildly displacing the surface so that hissing steam flooded the forest. As Yue had anticipated, the surrounding area filled with superheated steam. She even felt a spurt of white-hot mist hiss underfoot, noting with alarm that Taj's stone barrier began to flake. "Glad you got that Resist Element?" Taj joked. "Bloody oath." Yue almost bit her tongue. As Alesia's spell raged, the ineffective attacks against them ceased. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck is that smell?" Yue was instantly aware of a scent that rose from below, thick and heavy with the texture of an oily gravy. It was a smell of fish, not rotten fish, but boiled fish. Hundreds, no, thousands, of poached fish. The vortex of superheated air persisted for another minute before subsiding, dispersing thanks to the magically-induced microclimate. Yue's eyes grew wide with horror. What she saw was obscene death on an industrial scale. The poor bastards below had been boiled alive, their leathery skin falling from their bodies in great sliding sheets of slimy flesh. There were even ones without skin at all, walking blindly with bleeding eyes through the mud, stepping on others. Others had gone mad from the agony, lashing out and attacking anything that came close. Yue saw one take a trident to its face, frenziedly stabbing itself to make the pain stop. Then the wailing started. First, a few, then a dozen, then whole schools of the bastards began to cry out in agony and pain, a chorus of suffering. Yue saw small monsters, big monsters, Murlocs clutching clusters of their transparent eggs, now well cooked, wailing in despair. Pairs of the fucking things were hugging one another. She even saw a little fish-thing trying to nudge a dead one to wakefulness. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "What the fuck—" She whispered under her breath. Her mind spun. These were just monsters, right? Materials and fodder and food! What was this feeling eating away at her chest? Why was her stomach lurching; her heart constricting? She couldn't even breathe. Was it the smell? She tried to speak, but couldn't find her voice. "I need a quick break," Alesia announced. The fire of her Efreet form began to dim. "You guys go mop up. I'll be fine at a higher altitude. Meet up with Team Two. They should be at the Pens. If we're lucky, a few people might have made it." Taj flexed his muscular, bull-like neck. "Yue, ready?" He joked. Yue was still staring slack-jawed at the exquisite hell below them. "YUE, still there?" She turned slowly to look at Taj. "You alright?" He demanded briskly. "Never seen mass destruction spell in action before? They're all like this. I wouldn't worry. If you think this is bad, you should see an extended range Incendiary Cloud. Crispy, I tell you! Ha! You ready to become a bit-shot Evoker?" Yue felt the beginnings of an insane smile, the muscles around her lips locking into place to form a permanent grin. "Let's mop up!" She announced jubilantly, her mind no longer willing to ponder the vision below. All she could recall right now was the invocation for Fireball. And from what Yue could see, she was going to need many Fireballs indeed. "Bai Yue..." Gwen felt such wretchedness that she had to hug Yue tightly against her bosoms, enveloping her head with both arms. Elvia joined in, and the three of them shared a moment of silence. "Do you want to cry?" Gwen asked carefully. "It's okay to cry." "I am over it," Yue replied with a muted voice. "I've never been one for outbursts." The trio parted. Gwen felt the eyes of her friends upon her. "Your turn," Elvia said heartlessly. "Yeah," Yue affirmed. "What's the damage? Miss twenty out of ten." Gwen audibly exhaled. "I have a lot of secrets, some of them doesn't belong to me alone, so I'll have to refrain from those, but I'll tell you as much of myself as I am able." The girls nodded. "Before I begin, I want to show you guys something. It'll make my story more believable." "Alright." "Hit me." Gwen concentrated. "Ariel." A jolt of lightning jolted harmlessly through the air, materialising into a cute little marten that landed with a flourish. "Ee! EE!" "No way!" "Oh. My. God." Ariel began its devastating attack of adorability, instantly enslaving Elvia and Yue's maiden hearts. "Can I touch it?" Elvia asked. Gwen nodded. Before Elvia could touch the marten; Yue reached out with both hands and hugged it to her face. "So soft!" She moaned orgasmically. Elvia watched enviously, awaiting her turn. After a minute, Yue handed the cat-snake over. Elvia took it with trembling hands, her blue eyes staring widely at the creature as it sniffed the air. "Ee?" Ariel necked Elvia's hands with its cheek. The cuteness proved excessive for Elvia; her mental fortitude had reached zero. Like a girl obsessed, the Healer suddenly kissed Ariel full on the nose, then did it again. Ariel extended its little pink paws and gave her face a good push, but Elvia persisted in smooshing its weaselly mien. The girls played with the marten for a good fifteen minutes. Finally, Ariel settled onto Elvia's lap. "There's one more," Gwen said expectantly. "This one is also cute. I think." The two girls nodded with big grinning faces. Gwen took a deep breath. Then she took another deep breath. Then she materialised plastic sheets across the bed, asking them to stretch out the corners and sit over the edges. Her friends grew confused. Was it a Water Elemental? Was Gwen trying to hint that she had another element? If so, it would make Gwen beyond unique. Very few Mages had more than one element. "Caliban," Gwen stated with a quavering voice. "Come!" A dark portal shunted open near the ceiling. Instantly the temperature dropped by several degrees. Yue felt her heart wrench with dread and loathing as the Negative Energy polluted the air. Elvia, on the other hand, turned white with shock, reacting aggressively against Caliban's aura of desolation. Then Gwen's Familiar came, a slithering monstrosity in black obsidian, sinuous and serpentine, its prehensile body writhing this way and that. Unlike Ariel, Caliban turned to Gwen and hissed. "Shaa!" Yue felt the bile rising in her throat. Elvia suddenly began to scream. She cocked her head, gripped her sheets, and screamed and screamed. As if reacting to its favourite music, Caliban turned to the petite blonde and joined in the symphony. It's carapace split in twain, revealing a pulsating mass of purple-pink flesh dripping with cold grey slime. It opened its lamprey's mouth and began to sing, its tongues darting about happily. "Shaa! Shaa! Shaa!" Gwen grimaced. Was that too much too soon? Was Elvia's father going to burst into the room and see his comatose daughter with a monster? Gingerly, Gwen conjuring a little handful of purified water and splashing the coldness across Elvia's face. Elvia snapped back to reality, saw Caliban and cried out once more. Finally, too paranoia to allow her friend free reign, she moved a hand over Elvia's mouth. "Hush! Shh! It's okay Elvia, Caliban is friendly." Gwen willed Caliban to calm down, watching its tentacles retract into its carapace. Without its pulsing flesh exposed, Caliban resembled an abstract work of art. Elvia gripped Gwen's wrists, her nails digging into Gwen's skin. "Wow, I don't even feel remotely mind-fucked by the Murks anymore," Yue gazed warily at Caliban as its head bobbed this way and that. "Good work, Gwennie, I am cured." "What…" Elvia wracked her mind to find an appropriate word. She found it in Yue's favourite vernacular. "Gwen, what the fuck is that?" "Evee!" Yue slapped Elvia, shocked. "No!" Gwen raised a hand, willing Caliban to come closer. Against her thighs, she rubbed its snout gingerly, eliciting a clicking-purr. Ariel meanwhile, played the ambassador and leapt onto Elvia's lap once more, licking her face to provide her with some creature comfort. "What… Element is that?" Yue was surprisingly acute when it came to Magical Creatures. "Is it… Undead?" "No, thank God." Gwen allowed Caliban to settle, feeling a surge of weakness pass over her as Void-mana exhausted her body. Sensing her weariness, Caliban reached out and flicked a tentacled-tongue against its master's chin. "Evee, can I trouble you for some Positive Energy?" Elvia reached over and began to channel. She could see Gwen's complexion improve as her Healing Word made its mark. "That's enough. I am not wounded or anything." Gwen breathed out. "To answer your question, Yue - Caliban is Void Familiar." "What! NO WAY!" Yue exploded. "That's one of the three forbidden elements! That's right next to the big NO-NO! How is this possible?" Meanwhile, Caliban had found its new favourite thing. A source of life energy! It slithered out of Gwen's lap and made for Elvia, begging and nodding its head comically as it moved. Elvia felt herself petrify as the dark thing approached. It lowered its head gently and nudged her knees. When Elvia did not retaliate or resist, it continued to crawl up her leg. "Gwen?" Elvia's voice caught in her throat. Gwen was unfortunately distracted by Yue. "Gwen?" Elvia asked again, this time with more distress as Caliban crawled into her lap and began to sniff her skin. Gwen was still busy trying to fend off the disbelieving Yue. "GWEN!" "Caliban! Come back here," Gwen commanded. Her Familiar sulked and slithered back. Before it returned, however, it regarded Elvia with a look that seemed to say they were now best friends. Elvia shivered, cold sweat drenching her nightgown. "I don't get it!" Yue blurted. "This is the stuff they used to talk about in history class! In the Beast Wave! In the Great Calamities! Why is it next to us and giving Elvia a tongue bath!" "It's a long story…" Gwen began. "A very long story." "We've got all night—" Yue sat back, holding a pillow to ward herself against Caliban. Beside her, Elvia was hugging Ariel tightly, feeling the resonance of positive energy within it. Caliban meanwhile, coiled itself against Gwen's lap. Gwen nodded. She looked forlornly at her two friends, then began to tell her tale. She started with the events after the Rainbow Serpent when she returned with Alesia to the Tower. She was still under Geas to avoid that topic, so she merely intimated that the Master of the Tower was very interested in her near death-encounter with Edgar, the Mage that had abducted herself and Debora. From that meeting, Gwen discovered that she had in fact, one more School to Awaken in. With the help of Henry Kilroy and the Greater Cognisance Chamber, she had become both Conjurer and Evoker, Lightning and Void. When Yue asked about the Void element itself, Gwen told her the half-truth; that she had no idea. As for why she Awoke in it, Gwen associated the talent with her near-death experience, courtesy of Edgar. After that incident, Gwen trained with Alesia and Gunther while at school and in the Tower. During that time, Gwen also met her grandfather, Surya, and with Henry's help, managed to summon Ariel and Caliban. "So that's why you kept disappearing every weekend!" Yue commented sulkily. "I thought you had a boyfriend or something." Gwen continued her story, moving onto the unfortunate meeting between Mark Chandler and herself. It was a complicated story to narrate, and Gwen did her best to tell it chronologically, first going over her assault of the Slaver's base, then her capture, then Caliban running amok. She even confessed fully to Caliban's appetites. "Don't be scared Evee, think about how loyally Caliban reacted. Man, I would love to have myself a Caliban in a tight spot." Yue remarked with confidence. Then, to Gwen's relief, Yue reached out and rubbed Caliban's body, feeling its smooth exterior. Caliban raised its head and gazed at Yue with a knowing nod of comprehension. Yue then allowed Caliban to scent her hand, feeling the serpent nudged her knuckles with his snout. "Good Cali," Yue cooed. "Who's a good boy?" "Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban replied coolly. Gwen continued her story, continuing with Gunther's arrival and his borrowing her hand to murder the two slavers. "You… killed PEOPLE!?" Elvia was white as a sheet. Yue raised both brows. Gwen confessed all, including how Bozza and Farez finally expired. "How do you feel sitting beside a murderer?" Gwen asked weakly. "Meh, it was self-defence!" Yue's retorted defensively. "Was it?" Gwen intoned melancholically. She had already replayed the scene so many times in her head. "They had no limbs, Yue. They were defenceless." Yue licked her lips nervously. "Still, I don't blame you or anything." Comparatively, Elvia seemed conflicted by Gwen's story. Her hand, which was rubbing Ariel's stomach, had ceased its stroking. Gwen sighed and continued her story. Without risking too much detail, she explained the reason why Mark turned against his friends and allies. Gwen told them of Elizabeth, Henry Kilroy's wife, who was a Void element user herself. Elizabeth had gone mad with power, ultimately consuming others to feed her insatiable hunger. Mark was convinced that Elizabeth had murdered his sister, and so used Gwen to entrap Henry. She even told them that Mark had used Necromancy to capture his sister's soul as evidence. "That asshole!" Yue uttered in disbelief, then realised the reason for Gwen's melancholy. "No! You're not going crazy! You're a good person who feels remorse! Not like that Elizabeth woman. She was unbalanced from the start." "Thanks, Yue, that's my hypothesis as well," Gwen replied, hoping that her friends had enough faith in her to believe her. Elvia remained silent. Gwen had a little more of the narrative left. She told them about how Gunther arrested Mark, of how she had that long conversation with Henry. The only way to save her from a fate of living in infamy and secrecy, Gwen explained, was to became a proverbial panda protected by all. She was to be a living Spell of Mass Destruction that all the powers respected and left well alone, tethered to the influence of the Tower's Middle Faction, and therefore the Mageocracy, itself. Finally, she informed them of Surya and Henry's plan and the girls' part in it. All the was left now was how the girls would receive the news. "That's about the gist of it," Gwen finished. She had omitted things as well: her true origins, the twin souls, her consumption ability to appropriate the talents Caliban devoured. These were secrets she'd likely have to take to her grave. "Well, I am cool." Yue beckoned for Caliban. Gwen watched with surprise as Yue placed her face close to Caliban's own and allowed their noses to touch. "Odourless, how interesting," Yue remarked, giving it a bop on the formless head. Caliban sent out some feelers to touch Yue's collarbones. "Eek! Ticklish!" Yue was an amazing Mage, Gwen affirmed. That mental fortitude, that unflappable personality. The girl was made of sterner stuff than Gwen herself. "Elvia, it's okay if you want me to leave or something." Gwen felt her stomach sink. "Please just say something." Elvia looked up from stroking Ariel, turning her small face to regard Gwen and Yue with her luminous blue eyes. Then, to their surprise, Elvia launched herself from the bed and embraced Gwen by the neck. She dug her head into Gwen's shoulder and began to sob mightily. "I am sorry," she mumbled incoherently. "You went through so much, and I wasn't even there. I didn't even know! I am a terrible friend!" Gwen felt all tension drain from her body. Suddenly, she could breathe again. She wrapped her arms around Elvia, then kissed her cheeks. "It's okay, Evee. I am so happy you could still accept me as your friend." "Eee! Ee!" Ariel joined in the huddle. "Aww." Yue felt her heart fluttering with gladness as she pressed herself into the scrum. "Shaa!!" Caliban slithered in between the girls. "Aeee!" Elvia tore herself away, falling against the pillow. "Shaa!" Caliban looked hurt. Suddenly, Yue began to laugh. Gwen laughed as well. Ariel squealed with delight. Elvia wasn't in a jovial mood, but the laughter proved too infectious. Caliban realised that it wasn't in trouble, and wagged its tail expressively. All five members "laughed" themselves to exhaustion, so much that Gwen had to retract Caliban and Ariel into their pocket dimensions. "Phew," Yue remarked, recalling a break in the chronology. "Assuming we get more details later for all that, I want to know what you did for the entirety of last month." "Ah," Gwen realised that she had stopped the story a little prematurely. "Well, there's something you need to know about Debora…"

"You and Debora toured the Outback?!" Elvia's eyes marvelled at the word. To the city folk, the Outback Frontier was a world of horses and Aurochs and Roos. That, and Drop Bears— Monstrosities hidden among the branches, waiting for the wayward feller wandering below, only to descend upon them with their rock-hard arse. "Aye," Gwen answered with a seductive grin. "The Outback! A place of yore, a sunburnt country full of sweeping planes, rugged mountain ranges, droughts and flooding rains; with stark white ring-bark forests, all tragic as the moon, and sapphire-misted mountains and the hot gold hush of noon!" Elvia's eyes glazed over with a look of dreamy romanticism. "There, we battled a brutal Land Shark, hungry for the flesh of man! Debora and I, two young maidens thrown into the fight, were ambushed by a dread-beast in the dead of night!" "Whoa..." "But what horrid hap for the Shark! For the cunning Debs doth made pillars of stone for us to escape our woe! Frustrated, the Shark cometh, jaws-a-snapping and saliva-a-flinging. Hark! I called upon a thunderous hammer to smite our foe with lightning! Alas! It's diamond scales repelled the bolt!" "Oh, no!" Elvia gasped. "Then what?" "Fear not, for even as the beast's ire shifted to I; the faithful Debora leapt unto the creatures' flank, beating upon it as...er... drum!" "Huh—?" "Look, don't expect me to last more than a few verses, I am no Skandi Battle Skald." Gwen shrugged. "The main thing is, we defeated the beast, and Deb was lucky enough to pick up an intermediate earth spirit with the power of sand." "No shit?" Yue exploded. "A Spirit?!" "Yep, a medium-tier Sand Spirit." Yue appeared thunderstruck. The girl had risked her life wading through Murkloc guts, and all she got was PTSD. Debora went adventuring in the wilderness with her best friend and just casually picks up a mid-tier Elemental? "She worked hard for it." Gwen coughed. "She's a good ally." Yue's eyes narrowed. "What's her affinity now??" "Tier… five?" "Fuck." Yue snorted twin streams of air from her nostrils. She looked Gwen up and down, making her skin crawl. "We should go hunting sometime." "Sure. There's always more Roos roaming the region." "We better," Yue sighed. "Alright, let's snooze." "You're sleeping here?" Gwen muttered between pursed lips, her eyes glazing over. "You're not?" Yue shot her a look. Gwen looked at the two girls. Yue's voluptuous figure enveloped Elvia's, though the smaller girl paid her companion no mind. As for her self, she felt strangely self-conscious. For some reason, she thought of Debora's blushing face. "Come on, you sleeping or not?" Yue patted the place beside her. Gwen felt her resolve put to the test. Sleeping next to Yue should be fine. If she slept next to Elvia, she might awaken something terrible. Driving all thoughts from her mind, Gwen quietly removed herself from the foot of the bed, sliding herself into the silky sheets. "Right," she replied woodenly. "Let's sleep." She closed her eyes and tried to stay still, one leg hanging over the edge. Before she could get comfortable, two soft pillows pressed against her arm. Soon, a thigh followed. Before she could protest, there was a sound of snoring. Gwen pushed on her best friend, but the girl was already sleeping like a log, dead to the world. "You girls have fun last night? What'd you do? Board games?" Frederik was having a good chuckle at the girl's expenses when Gwen emerged with eyes that were puffy and bloodshot. In Elvia's bedroom, the others were still counting sheep, entangled within piles of linen. "Good morning Mr Lindholm," Gwen greeted the Patriarch and his wife. "Good morning Mrs Lindholm." "Call me, Fred," the Patriarch answered jovially. "Likewise," Elaina replied, "Just Elly is fine." "That's aright." Gwen raised both hands and refused politely. "I wouldn't want to make Elvia uncomfortable." "Suit yourself." Frederik tipped his coffee cup toward the maid, who was readying breakfast for the girls. "Beatrice, can you make Miss Song a coffee as well, please." "Yes, sir," the maid worked the machine. In the morning night, Gwen studied Elvia's parents. Elaina appeared should be thirty, but she seemed only a little older than her friend. Unfortunately, Gwen noted sadly, if Elaina was any indication, it was unlikely that the angelic Elvia would become any more 'womanly'. "Oh yes, your cousin left us this." Frederik handed over a card. "I think it's an invite." Gwen took the card and opened it. There was a family portrait of Richard, Aunt Tali, and Uncle Huang on the inside, with Happy NY written in English and Chinese. _Gwen, come to the NY family meet up this year. I know that previous years Kwan had been a dick and didn't invite you, but this year Surya is coming. Something big is happening. Your mother's coming as well. You should be here._ _— Richard.'_ Gwen snapped the card shut. She should probably give Opa a buzz. Yue and Elvia seemed like they would take a while yet. "Excuse me. I need to send a Message," Gwen apologised, walking barefoot onto the bay view terrace. She took in the vista before her, feeling the salty breeze of the sea brine upon her skin. The coolness helped to diffuse the sudden heat she felt the moment her mother's name was mentioned. Helena Huang. Gwen felt nauseated each time she tried to access either of her memories regarding her mother. The old Gwen's fragmented recollection had been full of disparaging moments of anxiety, both purposeful and neglectful. From the time alter-Gwen was ten and failed to show any promise in Spellcraft, Helena had obsessed with Gwen's external appearance. In terms of recollection, all she possessed were a vague montage of crash diets, verbal abuse, as well as toxic criticism of the girl in front of others. As for Gwen herself, she hated her reflexive desire to please Helena. Each time she thought of her "Mother", something of the old Gwen reared its ugly head. Facing the sea, she willed herself inwards. If she was to confront her mother, then the last thing she wanted was for some horrid memory to paralyse her at a critical junction. She wasn't sure about her alter-self, but she-herself rarely allowed wounds to fester. When she had meditated on her memories before, it had felt like a torch dropped down a deep well. At the bottom of that well sat old water, festering with scummy memories. She recalled that in her old life, she had told Helena to fuck herself the day before she moved out into a shared-room provided by the Government and her part-time work. After that, it took only four years of waitressing at trendy bars to finish university, by which time Helena had all but faded from her life. When she later queried her father, Morye had told her that Helena had left Australia with her new husband for China. But the Gwen of this world could not have expected government assistance nor a safe bed provided by Welfare. She was only useful to society as a Mage. If Gwen's family had simply abandoned her— Gwen shuddered; she had seen enough at Blackheath to know she wouldn't last a week. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. That was why her old ego no choice but to buy into her mother's words. Alter-Gwen must have thought herself lucky to have a mother who was so maternal and caring, and that she was the one who was too fat, too skinny, too whatever. "WHOA—" A chilling shock jolted Gwen from her internal revelry. "Whoops," Yue apologised, retracting a cold bottle of water. "Didn't think you were that out of it. Good morning!" "Morning," Gwen answered with a wane smile, one hand touching the spot where the cold bottle had left a moist indent. "Elvia should be up soon." "Nice, did you get a good sleep?" "Oh yeah, nice and snug. Man, I've got to invest in those one thousand thread-count sheets. It was like I was sleeping in a cocoon." "Yeah, it's nice like that." Half-an-hour later, Elvia joined them. "Hey, you." "Morning," Evee yawned, making a cherubic expression that energised the sleep-deprived Gwen. Gwen showed her friends her invitation. "Want some support?" Yue smashed a fist into the palm of her hand. There was no way to know that underneath that expression of sweetness was a battle maniac who now had a four-digit kill counter. "Nah." Gwen shook her head. "I'd have to face the music sooner or later, I'd prefer sooner." Yue shook her Message Device. "You know where we'll be." Elvia likewise concurred, offering herself to be Gwen's support. "Thanks, guys," Gwen confessed her gladness. "Let me make a call." Away from the girls, she Messaged Surya. "Opa." "Gwen, my girl! How's the party?" "It was delightful." "What's the matter?" Gwen wasn't exactly sure how to approach the matter, so she mentioned Richard's note. "Ah, heard about, it did ya?" Surya said. "Richard's a good bloke, eh? Who'd have thought? Well, you should thank your Master. I spoke to your Master, and he wants your family distractions resolved." "You're not going to tell them about my talents, are you?" Gwen's chest tingled. "Not entirely, no. That's the problem, you see? Kwan's a real piece of work, even if he's my son. Heaven knows what stupid ploys he's tied up for you. I have to go and make it clear that you're a line they cannot cross, on pain of ex-communication." "Do you think I should come, Opa?" "You don't have to. I know you and Helena—" Surya suddenly paused, as if something had struck his mind mid-sentence. "You don't fault me for that, do you, Gwen? I was so upset with Morye back then. I didn't know what Helena was doing." "It's alright, Opa." How could she be angry at Surya? In her old world, she didn't even see her Opa more than a dozen times before he passed. In this world, she was beyond glad that someone like Surya even existed. There was the sound of relief and a chuckle. "Well, you can come if you like. You might see something amazing." "What is it, Opa?" "Hehe, you'll see." Her Opa chuckled to himself. "I'll see you on the 31st. Remember to dress formally for the occasion. Impress everyone! Are you coming back to the estate for the next few days?" "I should be." "Good, I have something to give you." Gwen blinked. Her heart quickened; that something had to be Almudj's Scale! At long last, after all this time, it was ready! "Okay, Opa. I'll be over later. Can I bring some friends?" "Of course! Anyone who is a friend of yours is welcome in 'our' estate." "Thanks, Opa, you're the best!" "I know, dear. I know." The glow of the Divination ceased. She wanted to return to the estate right now. What could Opa have created from the scale of the serpent? It was an exciting prospect, but not nearly as overwhelming as inviting her friends to "her" place for once. "Guys! Gather around. Listen, I've just got approval. You guys haven't been to my Opa's estate yet, right? Out in the Valley?" "Nope." Yue drank her orange juice. Elvia shook her head. She took her milk syrupy-sweet. "Do you want to come and hang out for the next few days? We can hunt some Roos, check out the towns, go for a ride on horses through the outback— hot gold hush of noon and all that." "Horses!?" Elvia's ultramarine eyes lit up. "Oh yes, I have one called Beatrice, a spotted mare," Gwen explained the deal with her mare, and how Surya had kept it at his estate for Gwen's perusal. "Roos?" Yue's spirit was on ablaze. "Big, three-metre bastards that try to melee you?" "Thousands of them," Gwen assured her. "Let me ask dad." "I need to make a call." Her friends returned a moment later. Frederik was more than happy for Elvia to spend more time with Gwen. After all, one could never build enough early social capital with a future Magister-in-waiting. Yue's doting mother didn't like the impromptu holiday but knew she couldn't stop his headstrong daughter even if he tried. "Alright, when do we leave?" Yue asked. Gwen still had all her gear. She was good to go. "I need to pack! Give me an hour! No, thirty-minutes!" The journey back down to Polkobin involved travelling back into the city before catching a train again out toward the tablelands. The three girls chitter-chatted the whole while, drawing curious glances from other passengers in the train. From the station, it was Tess who picked them up in the rumbling old sedan. "Opa!" Gwen ran to Surya and embraced him. Yue and Elvia marvelled at the country estate and its spaciousness, "Gwen, my girl!" Surya was more than happy to have the shampoo scent of his granddaughter's hair fill his nostrils. "— and welcome, I am Surya, Gwen's grandfather." "Thank you for having us, Master Huang." Elvia bowed gracefully, a lock of blonde hair falling over one eye. Surya nodded approvingly, recognising the healer from Gwen's stories. "Hello! Thanks for inviting us, Master Huang," Yue greeted Surya casually. She performed an awkward bow, her spaghetti-string tanktop testing its limits, flashing Surya a wide grin full of white teeth. Gwen's grandfather's eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Gwen had told him about the Asian girl who was Alesia's student, but to his eyes, the girl was larger than life. "Gwen—" Surya whispered to Gwen. "Your friend is beyond impressive." "Oh yes," Gwen nodded. "She's tier 4 affinity fire. She's seen real combat a well." "That is impressive, indeed." Surya couldn't peel his eyes away. "Gwen." Yue coughed, turning away from the ogling grandfather. "That's not what he meant." "Opa!" Gwen kicked Surya in the shins. "Arrghk— come and see me in the Workshop." Surya fled. Gwen led her friends to the guest rooms, assured Elvia and Yue of her Opa's good intentions, then promised that she would soon return. In the west wing, her Opa was seated in his usual place. This time, he had a small silver box out in front of him, placed on top of a pedestal. "Is it ready?" Gwen asked; her heart at her throat. "It's ready," Surya affirmed. "May I?" Gwen inquired carefully. Surya nodded. Gwen gingerly retrieved the box and opened it. She was greeted with the spectacle of a chromatic scale the size of her thumbnail. On cue, the scale rose into the air and began to orbit her head, shimmering with the petrol-sheen of a pigeon's neck. "An Ioun Stone?!" Gwen was shocked. She had thought her grandfather would have made her a brooch or another ring, but an Ioun Stone! By nature, such items were accessory iconically associated with powerful Mages. Pending the materials used to make the stone, a sorceress buffed herself with many effects, from improved protection to higher damage output, to hasted casting. Rarer stones even provided the ability to comprehend and understand arcane languages! Gwen's eyes followed the scintillating scale. "So what does it do, Opa?" Surya rubbed his chin. "Are you aware of how imbued enchantments work, Gwen?" Gwen scanned her mind for any residual knowledge that the old Gwen might have left, finding nothing. She had never received formal training in Enchantment and didn't know any details beyond basic high-school theory crafting. "Well, you should know that even with the best of materials, it is only possible to imbue a few effects onto an item. The scale you brought me had the unique ability to tap into the natural elements, or what we call the Primary elements - Fire, Water, Air, an Earth, do you understand?" Gwen nodded. Surya continued. "What do you think you need most right now?" "Positive Energy?" Gwen said hopefully. Surya made a face. "I am afraid that's out of my league. What I mean is, what is your weakest talent?" "Defence?" Gwen asked. She knew her counter-spells was non-existent. Even her non-newtonian plagiarism of Gunther's barrier took an incredible amount of concentration to maintain and manifest. "Indeed, in the face of the Inter-High competition to come, I consulted with Henry, and we decided that you should gain an item of defence and protection first and foremost." "Oh?" Gwen sounded almost disappointed. She had been expecting something that further augmented her offence. "You can't afford to lose any of the battles Gwen, and you can be sure that those kids would be targeting the team's main caster. How are you going to do damage if you're a glass cannon?" Gwen had to admit there was merit in what Surya was saying. "After much deliberation, I have imbued the scale with the passive effect of absorbing Primary elemental damage." Surya snapped his fingers, and a mote of fire flew towards Gwen, sizzling through the air and striking her skin. Gwen yelped and pulled back her hand, expecting a sharp pain. Instead, she felt only a warmness as the channelled flame faded into her skin. The scale shimmered, thrumming with resonance, humming gently. "The scale significantly diminishes the effects of low-affinity elemental effects," Surya explained. "Give me your hand." Gwen extended her hand doubtfully. Surya took from the wall bracket an assortment of implements. He pointed the first one at her hand, channelling mana into the device. There was a crackling sound of snapping stone as a jagged shard materialised and shot towards Gwen's palm. Gwen felt the impact bite into her hand. "Ouch!" She pulled her hand and flinched. "It doesn't stop physical effects." Surya pulled out another wand, this one with a core that was blue as sapphires. "However, watch this." Surya channelled and shot a shard of ice toward Gwen's palm. Gwen felt the ice stab into her flesh with a pin-prick, but there was no feeling of frigidity upon her skin. "Strange, no?" Surya laughed. "I am not sure how it works either. I guess now we know why Alesia's flames failed to peel a single scale from the rainbow serpent." Gwen asked Surya to try out a few more elements from his attuned inscriptors, ponding the scale's effects as she went. As a novice, Gwen could deduce that the "Scale" absorbed heat and cold. While kinetic devices were unaffected, it dampened entropic, thermodynamic damage. Gwen gave the matter some thought. Self-defence was not her forte. According to Alesia, dodging spells with high-mobility became non-optional once damage ramped up the tiers. Of the Schools of Magic under her belt, it was only Evocation and Conjuration that she excelled, for a jack of all trades would not benefit her team, especially as she had painted herself as an offensive expert. From now, she had three months until the start of the competition. Of all her alternative talents, it was Flight from the School of Transmutation that made the most significant contribution to her tactical options. But then again, Abjuration offered Resistance and Wards... And Divination allowed detection and prevention... Across from Gwen, Surya watched Gwen's eyes glaze over. It was like his cute _cucu perempuan_ had suddenly seized up. Did he break her? He wondered. Was the scale too impressive? It did absorb elemental damage, after all, that's about as unique as a mid-tier item could be. Slowly, his eyes gazed downwards at her long white legs poking out beneath her dress. He selected a Wand of Ice from the table and pointed it towards the brass stool, a sudden feeling of mischief filling his old heart. What was life for an Enchanter without his amusements?

Gwen massaged her thawing buttocks. Surya had demonstrated a curious flaw of the scale's resistance, which was that its Enchantment worked best against spontaneous bursts of energy but fared poorly against gradual changes in temperature. Horrified, Gwen quickly removed herself from the chair, making a rip-roaring noise. The embarrassment was mortifying, but she could hardly scold her Opa now, not after he had given her such an incredible gift. Once her grandfather had his fun, Surya additionally recommended that she forgo the iconic look of the floating Ioun stone. Instead, she would "implant" the scale by adhering it to her skin. Subtlety, Surya explained, would necessary if she wished to avoid unwanted attention. Lifting her hair, her Opa then placed the "Ioun Scale" against the base of her neck, below her hairline. With a word, Surya adhered the luke-warm Ioun Scale to her skin, where it would stay until she willed it to be released. As a passive effect, Surya explained, the scale would continuously draw from the ambient mana that diffused from her body. It was why Mages had limited "slots" for passive items. Too many attunements meant that a caster crippled their Mana Pools. After her Opa, Gwen returned to her friends. In her absence, her classmates made themselves comfortable on the long veranda, bathed in the auburn sunset setting aflame the infinity pool. "It's beautiful here," Elvia marvelled as Gwen approached. "I've never seen anything like it." "I've never seen anything like it period." Yue pouted. Unlike the other two, she was a regular girl with a middle-class Dad. They lived in a house that overlooked a narrow street. Gwen recalled that Yue's bedroom looked straight into her neighbour's bedroom. She pulled up a chair and joined them. "What's the plan?" Yue asked. "Well." Gwen enjoyed the breeze. "We'll get the two of you outfitted tomorrow. Then we can rent a few horses. I know a guy, Tommy, who's a top bloke. There's a lot to do out here. We can hunt some Roos, get a barbecue going, or see local landmarks. We can even camp out for a night and stargaze." "Sounds amazing," Elvia cooed. "I am in," Yue agreed. Satisfied, the girls preceded to shower and prepare for bed. Gwen returned to her bedroom, thinking of the sunset and the day ahead, dreaming of tomorrow. “Kalinda!” someone shouted beside her ear. Gwen bolted upright, propping herself on her elbows. Only wasn’t in her bed. She was instead comfortably nestled amongst on a straw mat laid over powdery clay. In the distance, a sinking sun shimmered, casting an orange haze over the ochre horizon. _No way,_ Gwen thought to herself. _This isn't another transmigration, is it?_ Beside her, old Tjupurrula squeezed her arm and puckered his lips, pointing toward something towering and maroon. Compared to herself, the withered ma' mangk was skin wearing bones, held together by desiccated sinews. The Spirit Walker's skin was scarred as per tradition, concurrently dappled with the earthy tones of the Pintupi. Above her, an enormous landmark, too famous not to be recognised, loomed. Is that— _Uluru?_ Gwen marvelled. She had never seen the rock in real life before. It had always been on her bucket list, but work intervened. Following Tjupurrula's finger, her eyes focused on the cloudless sky over the epic natural monument. _"Kapi!"_ the Spirit Walker clapped emphatically. There was a crash of thunder; then it began to pour. Rain fell from heaven in pails and buckets, a solid wall of water cascading from a sky without clouds. Where did the water come from? Gwen marvelled. Tjupurrula leaned in closer. His skin as dark as obsidian, slick as an eel's. Gwen looked down and saw a pair of caramel bosoms jutting outwards. Remarkably, she did not feel shame. Why would she? Was that not how men and women came into the earth, naked and quivering, likewise leaving, also naked and quivering? “The Rainbow - the rainbow comes from the earth and returns here.” Gwen heard herself speak, but her voice was strange. It was a woman’s voice, but not her own. "Grandfather, I see now." “Aye. Almudj is a proper cheeky.” Old Tjupurrula flashed a mouth full of yellow teeth. “It lives here, with a long beard and sharp teeth, in Uluru. It does not need men or women. It dreams, requiring no ceremonies.” “Will the Snake awaken feeling hungry? Will it eat us?” Gwen heard herself inquire innocently. Her question made Tjupurrula laugh. “O ya, Snake is very dangerous when it is cranky. The land grows dry, and the Pintupi drink the earth. When it is hungry, we have _kurtangulu,_ nothing!” Gwen felt the cold water of the cloudless rain saturating her skin, washing away the dust and the grime. As the water streamed from her hair, she could almost sense the seeds buried deep underground violently erupting, breaching the surface, gasping for air. She opened her mouth, filling it with water. She swallowed, quenching her thirst. Tjupurrula regarded her with a broad grin. “Uluru! This why the Pintupi can be at peace. Not like those Usurpers. The Snake is proper cheeky, yes. It will attack invaders. It will return their body to their ancestors. All of them. Everywhere!” Suddenly, there was a tremor. The ground began to shift and move. From atop Uluru, she could see an immense shape, slithering and meandering, sliding from within the stone. “In the early days, when the Yirriti first carried the Song, they carried it through the country, safe from the stalkers and the hunters. They carried it in drought times, through a dry country, travelling at night. I saw this once, Kalinda. I was a young _komp,_ and my eyes were bright.” “The Pintupi come from the old country, walking to the rock. Following the track. Following the track left by the Snake. Silently, looking, looking and coming to this place. To the mother place. People come. There were many of us then.” Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Tjupurrula’s eyes glazed over with a look of nostalgia. “Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. They come to sing to the Snake. From Purtardi, Koonadan, from Karli Karru, from Tamarama, from Wimparraku. They come. From the south. From the north. From the east. From the west. They shared their meat, their _eechak._ I shared my _kongk._ There was no blood, no hate. When we walk the Long Walk, there is no argument. No eye.” “In Uluru, with our special song. The Song of the Pintupi, we sing to the Snake. We could make the Snake remember a time when the world was young. It was a friend then. Before the Usurpers came; all people sang the song.” A sound of thunder rumbled across the sky. “Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!” Tjupurrula began. “Come! _Ngak uu peeyan_!” Old Tjupurrula's hands gestured in the air. All around them, Gwen saw thousands, tens of thousands of the folk gathered, singing, dancing, revelling in the corroboree. Laughing, Gwen lifted herself from the earth. The torrential rain cleansed the mud from her body. She joined the dance, hundreds of bodies in motion, moving round and round, their bare feet pitter-pattering across the flowing earth. _CRACK!_ Came the sound of earth-shattering fulminations. From the apex of Uluru, the Snake began to move, moving toward them, coming closer. The ground shook again. Something else began to pour from atop the rock. Water gushed from the stone, water the likeness of blood, shaking the earth, filling the earth with life. Gwen wept, for here was where every river in the world begun. Her world turned scarlet. Everywhere the red liquid touched, the land itself was quickly changing— fields of wild grass and wildflowers sprouted violently, exploding from the earth in vibrant eruptions. A verdant rainbow manifested where there had only been sand and dusty death. “Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!” The song continued unceasingly, the masses of bodies forming an unending spiral around Uluru. “Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!” Gwen turned her gaze upward to see the scintillating eyes of the serpent regarding her curiously. "Almudj sees you, Kalinda!" Old Tjupurrula slapped his thighs. "Speak to it, girl! Ask for rain!" Kin? The serpent's voice flooded her mind, drowning Gwen in a flood of rushing white water. Gwen forced her eyes to open. Gingerly, one hand moving toward the back of her head, caressing the pulsing serpent's scale imprinted on her neck. Taking deep breaths, Gwen forced herself to calm. Her dream did not feel like an astral projection or an out of body experience. Instead, it was a vicarious immersion. She felt as though she had been there, as though she was the woman who was speaking to that ancient Spirit Walker, Tjupurrula. Certainly, her Opa never mentioned anything about the scale bringing edicts from land gods, so what was her vision supposed to be? Outside, it was already morning. There was a din of women bickering on the veranda. As the voices were familiar, Gwen attempted to make out the source of the fuss. The loud and obtrusive screamer was Yue without a doubt. The other was churlish and overbearing. Dobora— Gwen realised. Debora was back. Slapping on a pair of shirt and shorts, she exited her room. Outside, Elvia, who was in all-white, was trying to play the peacemaker. Yue was leaning against the veranda’s rails with a sulky look, arms crossed, heaving angrily. Debora was on the opposite side, hand on hips, aggressively incensed. There was static in the air. "Morning..." All three pair of eyes converged. Gwen sensed the worse was yet to come. For some reason, she felt like a cheating husband who had double-booked his mistress and his family. "Hey there, Gwennie, I am back." Debora's voice maintained a suggestive, husky candour. "Did you miss me?" Yue and Elvia's gazes shot towards Gwen accusingly. "I didn't know you would be back so soon," Gwen returned, realising she sounded like a guilty housewife. "How was Christmas?" "Got my blessings from the Archbishop, then polished off some honeyed ham at home." Debora pouted. "Came straight back to see how you were doing." "Fu—" Yue began. "YOU KNOW WHAT?" Gwen interrupted before the situation could escalate further. "Let's all go riding! Horses! Big Red Roo! OPEN SKIES!" _Fuck a duck._ Gwen groaned. She had forgotten entirely that only she and Debora had horses on the estate. Due to her inconsiderate party planning, the foursome was now stuck in Tess's car, on route to McGuigan's Estate. A bemused Rhodes had been informed of their arrival, and he had sent out Tommy to ensure the girls could all be saddled and sorted. Already, the atmosphere in the Merc was suffocating. Gwen sat in the passenger seat, while Elvia sat in the middle, caught between a Yue and a Debora. After ten minutes of not talking to one another, Gwen couldn't take the silence anymore. "Look, nothing happened between Debs and I. We were just fooling around." Debora looked hurt. Yue was about to bust a gasket. "Alright, that was a poor choice of words. Debora and I were partners..." Debora looked pleased. Yue looked hurt. "— in a PARTY. God damn it. We worked in a strictly professional capacity, okay?" "But what about..." Debora raised a hand. "Debby, help me out here!" Gwen snapped. "Alright, alright." Debora put up both hands. She turned to look at Yue, who was eyeing her suspiciously. "Gwen and I shared some intimate memories, not that any of you would know." "Debora Jones!" Gwen's patience had run its course. She had entirely forgotten how annoyingly possessive and stubborn Debora could be. "Hmmph!" Even the angelic Elvia felt insulted. Debora's body language did not suggest that her interested in Gwen was platonic. "You wish, skank." Yue was taking no prisoners. "Oi, you lot! Do you want me to run the car into a tree?" Tess, who had suffered for an hour, demanded darkly. "I'll be fine with my Iron Skin. But it'll put you sulky lot out of your misery post quick." "Thank you, Tess. That's wonderfully morbid." Gwen sighed. "Alright, everyone. Until we get to the horse farm, there is to be no more bullshit. Or else, I swear to God, I'll turn this car around!" "Lady boss!" Tommy leapt off his horse with a flourish, bowing as he did so, kicking up a mighty storm of impressive dust. His eyes scanned over the girls. "Oh my! Are Missus Mages always so beautiful?! I must have died and gone to heaven!" No one answered him, Tommy was amazed by the silence. What had happened? His flattery rarely if ever fell on deaf ears. "Hi Tommy, we need to borrow your and four horses, can you pick out some docile mares for my friends, Elvia and Yue?" Gwen's voice demure and defeated, and it made Tommy terrified. "We'll be stargazing as well, so if you could pack the horses for camping, it would be lovely." "Sure thing, but you okay, Lady boss? You sound sick, unhappy. Anything Tommy can do to help?" Tommy offered thoughtfully; these lady bosses looked very expensive. "I am alright Tommy. Please see to it now." Gwen walked off by herself towards the paddock where the horses roamed, leaving Tommy to busy himself with the supplies, wondering if the weather had suddenly changed for the worse. "Mmmnngh!" Elvia had been mum this whole while, but she couldn't take Gwen been unhappy for another minute! "Yue! Debby! Go apologise, now!" The two girls looked at the healer and her misty eyes. "Yes, Ma'am," Yue replied with a deflating voice. "Sorry, Elvia," Debora replied earnestly. "Yue, Gwen and I are just friends. Honestly." "I am sorry as well. I was being a bitch." The girls went and located their friend. "We're sorry!" The troublemakers apologised. Making a supplicating bow that was the sign of a junior Mage to a superior. "Please don't stay upset." Gwen turned; her usually sparkling-bright emerald eyes were red and puffy. "I am alright." Gwen rubbed her eyes. "Promise me you two won't fight for stupid reasons again." "I promise." Debora crossed her heart. "Me too," Yue added stiffly. "Okay. Now is a good as a time as any then. Yue— Debora is going to be on our 5v5 team," Gwen added. "I want us all to work together and win. You know how much I need this. And how much we all need to win to advance our future careers." "You'll get no arguments from me," Yue raised both hands. She then extended a hand towards Debora. The two shook, albeit grudgingly. "Okay!" Gwen smirked, her face once again projecting happiness. "You girls go and pick your horses. I need to wash up my face. It's embarrassing to see myself like this." Her friends breathed a sigh of relief as Gwen watched them go, a secret smile touching the corner of her lips. "Hehe, you young ducks are still too tender for an old bird like me." Gwen winced, conjuring fresh water to wash out her eyes. Employing half an onion had been excessive. In hindsight, a single slice would have done the job just as well.

Thanks to Gwen's crocodile tears, the rest of the morning passed without incident. Elvia and Yue picked out their horses and quickly took up riding thanks to Tommy. Rhodes came through and shouted the girls a luncheon of Roo steak and heirloom vegetables. Tommy was asked to join at Gwen's behest, but the jackaroo insisted on eating alone on a hay bale. Social status, Gwen was reluctant to admit, was far more ingrained in this world. Gwen's gaze fell over Tommy. While the rider dug face-first into his Roo back-strap, she felt the germination of a remarkable idea within her mind. Tommy was by all accounts, an indigenous bloke. Gwen, was by all accounts, tied to the Rainbow Serpent. Discretely, she excused herself from the table and approached the jackaroo from an angle where he could see her walking up shyly, hands tucked into the pockets of her riding pants. "Hey Tommy, can I ask you something for a minute?" "Sure thing, Missus Boss, what do you need?" Tommy swallowed, his face full of happiness. "Remember when I asked if I could come and see how your people lived these days, out in the Wildlands? Are you up for that offer still?" "Sure thing Miss, but are you sure you want to go see? It's no picnic Miss, I gotta say, the old mob, they're not much for the civilisation." "How so?" Gwen inquired. "Not too sure myself Miss," Tommy confessed. "Old bickerings. Bad Eye. Our _guman_ don't like it when we leave the Spirit Land. He says we are losing our young folk." Gwen tried her best to recall the names she had heard from her vision. "So Tommy, does the term _Pintupi_ sound familiar to you at all?" "Yeah Nah, I got nothing." "How about _Purtardi, Triinya?"_ "Not even a dingo of an idea, Missus Boss." _"Karli Karru? Muruntji? Wimparraku?"_ Tommy whistled smartly. "You speak the old tongue real glib." "Any of those familiar?" "Some of the words sound familiar. Are they nations, maybe? I am not so sure." "How about the _Yirriti?"_ Tommy's brows raised an inch, stretching his leathery face. "How do you know that, Missus Boss?" His voice filled with wonder. "They are old stories me Gran used to tell! The _Yirriti_ people were the old singers of Spirit Magic!" Gwen's eyes formed two smiling half-moons. "Do you have one of those where your people camp, Tommy? A Spirit Singer?" "Aye, old Goolagong, she be the singer of the mob, the _Tjukurpa—_ Spirit Walker, ya know, the Dreaming." Gwen stopped herself from punch the air. "Tommy, I want to take my friends and I out there for a few days, we want to be back on the 30th or the morning of the 31st, do you think we could make it? I'd very much like to speak to your shaman." Tommy counted the days on his finger, puckered his lips and made a sucking sound. "I think so, Missus Boss, we take the horses to the Gate, my mob usually camp about a day's ride through the bush. They're usually camped around the Goorangoola, easy to track, just follow the water." "Well Tommy, if you can spare a few days for us, I'll make sure everyone gets together a nice bonus for you. Think of it as a quest request from us!" Tommy's grin was split ear to ear. "Glad to help, Missus Boss, Tommy is best for mish!" "Thanks, Tommy." Gwen gave him her best smile. "You're the best." "Shucks!" Tommy laughed. "You embarrass me, Missus Boss! I'll let Mr Rhodes know!" Gwen returned to her friends with the good news. She was already thinking of team-building exercise. A few mildly exciting encounters fighting Roos and Giant Goannas should smooth the antagonism between Yue and Debs. Tommy returned with more details once Rhodes gave him the thumbs up. The jackaroo mapped out a lovely picture of Outback extravaganza. Once they exited the Singleton Gate, they'd take the old fire trail through untamed Green Zones until Goulburn Pass. With any luck, they should run into his tribe, south of Barrington, then Gwen could get some answers, and they would be back on the night of the 30th. The girls squealed and gushed. An Outback adventure! Four days and three nights in the bush, camping under stars! Fighting Kangaroos and God knows what, eating bush tucker and building up their friendship. That was the stuff brochures advertised. Ever the helpful manager, Rhodes offered to drop off the horses at the Shield Gate by Singleton. All Gwen and the girls had to do was meet Tommy at dawn. Having now planned their activities for the next few days, the girls wanted to stock up on appropriate attire for four days of rough riding. Thankfully, Cessnock was having a Boxing Day Market. Tommy borrowed Rhodes' jeep and acted the girl's chauffeur. At the market, the girls enjoyed themselves. This time, each of the girls had resources to spare. Elvia had LDMs and HDM given to her by her father; Yue was currently in possession of a small fortune; Debora was flush with cash from their prior Roo expeditions, and Gwen was the benefactor of a sugary Opa. Arm in arm, the girls roamed from store to store, building rapport through the ancient and revered female bonding ritual known as retail therapy. The girls returned to Surya's by nightfall, where they shared a nip of sweet Moscato with the old Enchanter. After a few glasses, Surya queried Elvia and Yue about their families, curious as to the lineage of Gwen's closest allies. Elvia's heritage was within Surya's expectations, but it was Yue's lineage that truly surprised him. "Your father is an Evoker with tier 2 Water, but you're tier 5 Fire?!" Gwen's grandfather was shocked by the odds. "Yeah, and my mother is an NoM!" Yue declared proudly. "That's... amazing." Surya raised his glass in a toast. "To beating the odds!" Yue tapped Surya's flute and drank her fermented grape juice. Gwen watched the bottle like a hawk. After her last debacle, she wasn't going to give Debora or anyone another opportunity to get tipsy and handsy. "That said, be careful out there. It's only the Green Zone, but call me if something, anything, goes wrong." "Yessir." the girls concurred. Gwen capped off the busy night with a kiss for her grandfather; then they were off to prepare for their Great Outback adventure. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. At dawn, Tess drove the girls out on the four-hour-long journey to the Shield Gate at Singleton. Gwen inquired about what had happened to that Wollombi Shield Gate they had investigated, but the Apprentice knew scant more than Gwen herself. "They're still looking into it." Tess avoided yet another pothole with a deft swivel of the wheel. "Who knows, the Tower usually takes care of these things. I can tell you the station is re-garrisoned though." Gwen glanced at the rearview mirror. Yue and Debs were getting along better now. They didn't make small talk, but they at least left one another well alone. Elvia was napping away in the middle, her face angelic as always. Hopefully, the trip could build some rapport between Yue and Debora. When their car finally stopped, Tommy was already waiting with the horses. "Ready to go?" The girls bid Tess goodbye and saddled up. Tess produced a Lumen-Recorder and asked the girls to line their horses up. "One, two, three - Doggies! Beautiful! Have fun!" True to his word, Tommy knew the lay of the land like the back of his hand. Even as they ventured off the main road, the jackaroo seemed well aware of their heading. Quickly, the flat terrain of stunted shrubbery turned into rolling hills and vast, open prairies full of wild grass and early summer flowers. On a ledge, they watched a herd of Roos, a hundred or more, hop across the sweeping plains like a school of synchronised fish. Yue wanted to immediately Fireball them, but Tommy stopped her, teaching her that these were not monsters but creatures of the land. He instructed the girls that they should only kill what they could eat, and that senseless killing was disrespectful to the spirit of the nation. Yue was disappointed but agreed to abide by Tommy's wisdom. She was a stranger to these lands, while Tommy was their host. Past noon and past Yengo, the plains came to an end, and the hilly rockscape of the Barrington Tops began. Unlike the tectonic mountains of Europe, these hills and valleys were eroded sandstone, flats weathered by the flowing of water, shaped by the aeons. Riding through a gully, the girls marvelled at the wonder of the bush, its white-barked forests of gums and its verdant bursts of Waratah and Banksia. There were Blooming Dogwood as well, juxtaposing the Flame Trees that turned their surroundings into founts of blood. It was late afternoon when they finally found the estuaries that flowed from the Tops. Tommy returned some half an hour later, relieved that he had discovered signs of his people's encampment. By now it was getting late, and the girls settled in for their first night on the bush. After a supper of oats, spiced jerky, and buttery damper, the conversation turned to who would occupy whose tent. "Let's draw straws." Gwen had anticipated a dispute, and so made moves to absolve the conflict. She felt no desire for Tommy to sleep out in the open while she or Debora took a tent for themselves. "Okay, I am with Debs." With sleep sorted, the foursome dimmed the Dancing Light. As their eyes adjusted, the sky came alive with celestial bodies burning bright. "Tommy, can you tell us some stories about this place?" Tommy gazed up at the stars dreamily, his expression unreadable. "Sure thing, Missus boss." The jackaroo cleared his throat. "Long ago, in the time of the never-never, before there was the Dreaming, the world was flat, bare, and cold. The Rainbow Serpent, _Almudj,_ slept under the ground with all the animal tribes in her belly waiting to be born. When it was time, she pushed up, calling to the animals to come from their sleep. She vomited forth the land, making mountains and hills, then scattered water over the earth, making rivers and lakes. She made the sun, the fire and all the colours. Our nation loves Almudj, because she is a great protector, bringing the wet season each year, allowing life to multiply, appearing in the sky as a rainbow. Our nation also fears Almudj, for she also punishes invaders." "Thank you Tommy, that was wonderful." Gwen's eyes refracted the milkyway above. Here in the Outback, the sky was heart-achingly beautiful, so overwhelming that she felt insignificant, minuscule, irrelevant. "Was that the serpent we saw during the Field Trip?" Debora asked. "I don't know," Gwen lied. Yue and Elvia also gazed upon the magnificence in silence, trying to picture a serpent sailing through the night-time sky. Gwen spent the night brushing off a wayward hand that kept sneaking its way into her sleeping bag. Half-awake, she listened to Debora's muffled breathing, unsure if the girl was awake or if she was naturally a nocturnal grabber. When dawn came, the insomniac sorceress, finally asleep, felt something tingly on her face. Drearily opening her eyes, she was met with Debora's face hovering an inch away, her amber eyes gazing longing into her own. "Morning," Gwen said cautiously, not moving a muscle. "I wish days like this would last forever," Debora muttered strangely, her voice full of melancholy. Gwen didn't reply for fear of inciting Debora. Instead, she reached out and squeezed her friend's hand reassuringly. Debora's hair, which she had cropped around the time of the Field Trip, had astoundingly returned to shoulder length. In the dappled light of the early morning, her friend was uncommonly comely. It wasn't the striking, exotic manner in which Gwen's appearance was head-turning, but a wholesome, girl-next-door appeal that Gwen could never affect. Gwen propped herself against the bedroll while Debora dressed in the cramped space of the two-women tent. An Earthen Transmuter, Debora's toned musculature was well-defined beneath her honeyed-skin. Compared to herself and her well-visible ribs, Gwen reminded herself that she needed to eat more. Gwen waited until Debora left before she changed, slipping into a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and her full-length riding pants. Emerge from the tent into the morning light; she buckled on her boots. There was a delicious smell of sizzling bacon. Tommy was making breakfast, aided by Yue, who excelled in survivalist cooking thanks to Alesia's deadly culinary ineptitude. Together, the girls shared tea and coffee, then saddled up for the ride to the Indigenous encampment. "Oi! _Appa!_ It's me, Tommy Kuranga, how are ya?" "Niiyalang!" replied an elderly man, "What's with the puk _komans?_ You bringing _migloo_ girls home now Tommy?" Gwen and the girls dismounted as they approached the settlement. The word settlement was perhaps, an inappropriate observation, for they were looking at a dozen humpies made from sticks and cross-hatched gum leaves, forming rudimentary burrows where one or two individuals could shelter from the sun or rain. Comparatively, some distance away, modern-material tents replaced the traditional humpy. The man Tommy had spoken to was a 'bushman' as Gwen would put it, but he had on jeans and a red t-shirt faded by the sun. As they strolled into camp, Gwen noted that almost all the residents of the settlement were wearing modernised clothing. There were little signs of the classic, Indigenous appearance that she had come to expect from her old world. Feeling ambivalent, she attempted to rationalise the scene before her, realising the idiotic expectation brought by her subtle prejudice. Just because they were in a magical world, she told herself, it didn't mean the indigenous folks strolled around naked and in body paint. "Good afternoon Sir. I am Gwen Song, and these are my friends, Yue Bai, Debora Jones, and Elvia Lindholm," Gwen spoke to the old feller who had accosted their party. Discretely, Tommy led the horses away while Gwen introduced her and her friends. "Ha! Old Jurangi is no 'Sir'!" the old man hollered, studying the girls, his eyes lingering a moment longer upon Gwen than the others. "Call me Jura, that's what the old stockmen used to call me. You Migloo are a long way from home!" "I am sorry for disturbing the peace, Jura," Gwen replied respectfully. "I was wondering if it is at all possible to speak to your Spirit Speaker." "Goolagong? You want to see the old lady?" His voice took on a tone of caution. "You want to _malp kee'AN_? Or perhaps you are more interested in the _ngeen-wiy_? No?" Gwen blushed. "I don't understand what you mean," she confessed. "My apologies for the inconvenience." Jura looked over at Tommy, who was brushing down the horses and unsaddling the camping gear. "Well, I better get you mob settled then." Jura pointed to a clearing beside the rest of the camp. "Help yourselves." Gwen led the girls over to the clearing and materialised their supplies. Jura's eyes almost popped out of his sockets. "You _migloo_ Magic?" Jura spluttered, suddenly alarmed. "All of you?" "Yue and I are Evokers, Debora here is a Transmuter, and Elvia is a healer." Debora placed a hand upon the earth and incanted a Minor Stone Shape. The ground rippled and warped before flattening out. Likewise, she planted the tent pegs by wrapping the stone around the spikes. _"Ngench pekan!"_ Jura spat alarmingly. "Ooo this proper cheeky Tommy! Bringing us trouble!" Gwen watched the man stalk angrily off toward their jackaroo, proceeding to slap the young man on the head. "Gwen—" Yue questioned. "What's happening?" "Are we unwelcome?" Elvia said worriedly. "Yeah, we don't exactly share a nice history with these folk," Dobora noted, observing Tommy ducking this way and that, trying to avoid the older man's slaps. "You know that we chased the savages out and took their land, right?" Gwen nodded uncertainly. Old Jura had seemed perfectly fine until they started using magic. "Is there a taboo or something about modern magic?" "I don't know about these days," Debora answered. "But when the Purge came through in the 70s, the Indigenous people were caught up pretty bad. It's all in the history books, Gwen, don't you recall junior high?" "I was preoccupied," Gwen replied. She didn't even remember those classes. Yue knew about Gwen's family circumstances, but Debora had not. The commotion seemed to have alerted the rest of the camp. Men, women and children all emerged from their tents to see what compelling drama was unfolding at the settlement's edge. In a few moments, the girls were surrounded by at least a hundred of the Indigenous folk, pointing and speaking in their musical language. Elvia hid behind Gwen demurely, hiding herself using Gwen's stature. Yue stepped up aggressively, as did Debora, who looked ready to fight. Gwen swallowed nervously as the gathering crowd came closer to inspect the intruders. She could see in their eyes that not all of them were curious while some, Gwen gulped, looked very much hostile.

"Oi! You mob! Hang off!" Just as Gwen considered the merits of restraining Yue as to avoid a diplomatic incident, she was interrupted by a croak that silenced the murmuring crowd. The group opened a path. From between the crowd, an indigenous woman with the bearing of a fertility goddess emerged. She was twice the width of the girthiest of the men, with dense breasts that hung low against a portly stomach, naked but for a modesty shawl. Yet, there wasn't a feeling of corpulence that one perceived when perceiving a woman with three chins. Instead, there was an indescribable vitality to the woman. Most imposingly, the woman's body was vivid with ochre markings and white lines. The woman, Gwen figured, was Tommy's Spirit Walker, the tribe's Dreamer— Old Goolagong. "Ma'am." Gwen placed a hand on Yue's shoulder. "Allow me to apologise. I hadn't realised the trouble our intrusion would bring." "Pay them no mind, _puk komans_ of the _migloo_ tribe." Thankfully, Goolagong was well-versed in English. "They're young, bored and restless, there is little to do here but hunt and forage, meaning the mob often become greedy for excitement." Old Goolagong turned to her people. "Go home! No more embarrassment for our guests!" Muttering, the tribesmen dispersed. "Allow me to introduce myself." Gwen made a courteous bow, the sort a junior Mage would use to greet a Master. "I am Gwen Song, a student of Evocation. Here is Yue, likewise an Evoker; and Debora, a transmuter, and finally, this is Elvia, our healer." "Five for a mob, isn't it?" the old man asked, looking around. "Not to mention Tommy is no Migloo magician." "Ah, we're here to broaden our horizons; not to quest." The Spirit Walker glared Jura, who looked guilty. "Honest mistake! We have trouble with migloo magicians on mish before. That is why you get eye." Old Goolagong came closer, from her markings, the girls could smell wildflowers and loam. "They say you wanted to speak to me. If you are not on a mish, what can old Goolagong do for you?" "Well." Gwen summoned her courage. She couldn't speak about her relationship with the Almudj, but the Geas did not prevent her from asking about the Mythic from an entirely different angle. "I was very much interested in the history of the region, especially regarding the Rainbow Serpent." Out of the girls, Elvia was the most articulate. She quickly explained what they saw that day of the Field Trip, about the rampage of the Rainbow Serpent in the Royal National. "I see, I see." The woman chuckled. Her gaze swept over the students, stopping at Debora. The Transmuter seemed to take note and hid behind the others. Toward Yue or Elvia, Goolagong possessed little interest, reserving the bulk of her attention for Gwen. "You know Almudj?" Goolagong said. "I sense that the Dreaming is strong in you." Gwen's blood grew instantly cold. Goolagong had better not accidentally triggered her Geas! Feeling her skin crawl, Gwen grinned awkwardly, then shook her head unconvincingly. "Only from stories, Ma'am," Elvia replied for Gwen, unsure why her talkative friend suddenly clammed up. "No matter. We talk in the shade." Goolagong motioned for the girls to move toward her humpy. "I'd be glad to," Gwen replied. The party followed, all except one. "I'll stay here," Debora replied, her face a barely hiding her displeasure. "I am not feeling well." "Are you alright, Deb? Was it something we ate? Motion sickness?" Elvia inquired puzzlingly. Gwen was also puzzled. Along the way, Debora had been the most fortified of them all. "Maybe— heatstroke? I'll stay with Debby." "Alright." Gwen nodded at Elvia. "Debs, are you sure you're fine?" "I am good." Debora shot Goolagong an unfriendly glare. "I just need to lie down a bit. You go ahead. I'll be fine with Evee here." Gwen looked at Yue, who shrugged. Yue wasn't close enough to Debora to give a toss. Of greater interest to Yue was the bulbous woman with a gut full of exotic stories. "Okay. We'll be back soon," Gwen replied gently, giving Debora a quick hug. "Take care." Old Goolagong sat under the canopy of a humpy that barely reached her sitting height, appearing as though a female, earthen Budai. "Please forgive the mob for their suspicions." Goolagong inclined her head. "They do not mean harm, only desiring that you leave us alone." "It's my fault for not announcing our arrival," Gwen said. "Please, if there's any way we can do to amend our intrusion, please say so." Goolagong's mouth opened to reveal rows of yellowing teeth. "Let's hear why you are here first. Jura tells me you and Tommy came to see me direct. You want to know about the Mother Serpent, Almudj?" Gwen framed her questions very carefully. "Yes, specifically, if there are any stories of the Serpent being able to communicate with people. Like through dreams and such." "Oh?" Goolagong's eyes made two half-moons. "Why would a migloo girl want to know about the Mother of the Unformed Land? Especially a magician with her European magic?" "Academic reasons," Gwen lied, pondering the sensitivity of her embedded Geas. "What do you know so far?" Goolagong asked instead. "How do you know Almudj?" Gwen grunted. Now she felt the oppressive grip of the Geas distinctly weighing upon her mind, pulling at her heart. "Yue, I need you to hit me with a Flaming Hand, just a small one." Yue looked at Gwen with an expression of incomprehension. "Trust me. I know what I am doing. I need to show the elder something." "Gwen, are you barking mad?" Yue's expression suggested she was questioning her sanity. "Yue, please," Gwen affirmed her request. "Alright, I hope you got a health pot ready." Yue raised a hand. "Flaming Hand!" A burst of flame erupted from Yue's hands, enveloping Gwen like the tongue of a malicious salamander. But just as the flame reached its target and began to scorch Gwen's clothes, a shimmer enveloped Gwen's body, manifesting a few millimetres above her skin. The flames washed over their intended target, but there was no yelp of pain, only a stink of carbon monoxide. "Your sleeve is on fire," Yue observed drily. Gwen quickly patted out the yellow flame. Her arm was unscathed, but her blouse was ruined. A Message spell boomed next to Gwen's ear. "Are you alright? What was that!" It was Elvia, communicating directly across the camp via line-of-sight. "We're fine Evee, just testing out something." Gwen terminated the spell after reassuring her friend. Stolen novel; please report. "Did you see?" Gwen asked. "I saw," Goolagong said. "What did she see? What did I see?" Yue asked puzzlingly. "That was Resist Elements, right? What's so strange about that?" Then Yue's mind seemed to have caught up with her eyes. "Wait, did you even chant an incantation?" Yue looked over her friend. "But that's impossible. Are you an Abjurer, as well? Gwen— what's happening exactly?" Gwen turned her head, pulling back her hair to form a ponytail. Both Yue and Goolagong gazed at a shimmering scale now embedded at the base of her neck. "A Magic Item? What does it do? Absorb Elements? Why fire specifically?" Yue yelped. "Did you Opa make it for you? Bloody hell, if I had an Enchanter as a grandfather..." Old Goolagong, however, had turned ashen, her dark face grey as the blood drained from her face. "You have met… Almudj?" Gwen said nothing. "Now I see why you wish to Dream. You wish to speak to Almudj. That is fine, migloo magician Gwen." "I do." "That is fine. But first, I would ask a task of you. If you do this for us, then I will share with you the Dreaming, and from your dream, you may speak with Almudj." Gwen nodded. "A Quest!" Yue instantly perked up. "I love Quest. What does it entail?" "A monster hunt," Old Goolagong intoned carefully. "I fear it is a dark beast that…" "We'll take it!" Yue's grinned from ear to ear. "Just point us in the right direction!" Old Goolagong looked at Gwen, making sure she consented, likely confused the migloo was so eager to help. Gwen knew, of course, that Yue's intentions were as pure as they come. She wanted to fight, and that was that. "A darkling beast," Old Goolagong continued. "We are troubled by Wanka, the greater Spider who lives upon the salt-lake, whose barks echo through the night, and whose children come to hunt us when we are weary and alone." "Hold up." Yue's complexion paled. "Did you say Giant Spider Wanker?" Gwen felt the same. A Spider. She wasn't good with spiders, but Yue was on a whole other level. There was a time when they were at Yue's house, and upon seeing a common Huntsmen on her roof, Yue had launched her mug toward it, showing the two of them with tea and ceramics. The huntsmen had then escaped unharmed, disappearing into the roof. Yue had been so afraid that she insisted on her father driving her to Gwen's apartment to spend the night. "Wanka, a barking spider that…" "It barks?!" Yue's voice took on a heightened pitch. "Like woof! Woof?"' "More like this…" Goolagong made a horrific sound akin to an angry wombat dry-humping a bush turkey. Yue swooned. "Yue gonna be okay?" Gwen held her friend upright. "Sure." Yue steadied herself, her voice trembling. "What's a spider or two? Just burn it all down." "So." Gwen turned back to Goolagong. "A favour for a favour?" "For Almudj, yes." Goolagong's met Gwen's own. "I, too, am interested in this connection you have. A migloo girl and Almudj - how strange, What could it mean?" "I can't offer something else instead?" Gwen turned to Yue, who was already staring into the middle distance. "Crystals currency?" "Do you see another magician around here?" Old Goolagong laughed. "You want an old lady to go and fight a giant barking spider? Do you think I could outrun its sixteen legs?" "S-Sixteen!" Yue'a eyes glazed over. "No no, we'll manage," Gwen said. She was confident that in a Green Zone, even a giant spider wouldn't be so excessively powerful as to be beyond tier 5. More so, she was optimistic this Wanka creature was no match for Caliban and Ariel. "When do you want this done?" "We can begin the ceremony tonight if you return. The salt lake is only two hours away by horse." Gwen nodded. She begged for more details on the arachnid, but the old Spirit Walker had not seen it herself either. Her people knew only its whereabouts and some lore. From what Gwen could gather, it should be a giant wolf-spider. "We need a guide for the salt lake." "Tommy should know the way." Old Goolagong pointed to the young Jackaroo brushing down the horses. The girls retreated to an isolated area of the camp. Debora professed to be feeling better, while Gwen informed them of her progress, giving each the choice of accompanying her. Elvia agreed before Gwen even finished. Unsurprisingly, Debora wasn't thrilled. "It's not right," she said. "We shouldn't be helping these people." "What's wrong?" Gwen asked, her voice more curious than critical. "They're not a part of our society. These savages rejected our ways decades ago. They need to live with the consequences." "A bit harsh?" Gwen was genuinely surprised. Was Debora a racist? That was certainly unexpected. Then again, Gwen thought back to their youth. Debora did consistently make fun of Yue's English when they were in junior high. She also called Yue a boat-person when anti-refugee sentiments were trending. As a typical "Aussie", Debora lived on the South Coast, and the folk there were very particular about "their" beaches, churches, and suburbs. "Not to mention." Debora bit her lower lip. "I heard they practice Necromancy." Elvia's eyes expanded to reveal the full extent of her brilliant blue iris. "That's Spirit Magic." Gwen had done her homework with her Master. "It's not raising the dead or anything, more like ancestral worship, storing memories in vessels, magic circles, animalism, that kind of thing." Debora's expression told Gwen that she didn't believe a word. "Debs." Gwen felt guilty for saying so, but she wasn't about to entertain the prejudices of Debora's misconstructions. "You can remain here if you want." "No," she said quickly. "I'll come with, you guys need a Tank, right? We're a team now." Yue and Elvia didn't disagree. It was Gwen who had announced that they were a team now, and it would have to be Gwen who rejected the ambivalent Debora. "Agreed." Gwen reached out and gave Debora a reassuring pat on the knees, relaxing her jaws. "Think of it as a monster hunt, nothing more." "Well, shall we get going then?" Yue asked impatiently. She was keen to see the spider roasted and done. Just knowing that a barking spider was near was giving her the creeps. Gwen materialised the girl's bandoleers, organising two healing potions and two mana potions, as well as a single vial of antidote per sorceress. Yue went and fetched Tommy, who was relieved that finally, he could ride out of camp and be away from the 'mob' incessantly mobbing him for details on the girls. As they travelled, the girls pooled notes on the nature of arachnid-based magical creatures. Gwen surprised the girls with her knowledge, explaining that it was implausible that a Barking Spider, even one with a name like Wanka, could be a web-dweller. "It's either an ambush predator, like the tarantula or the trap-door," Gwen said expertly, drawing upon her otherworldly knowledge. "OR, in the worst-case scenario, a jumping spider. They are SWIFT. My suggestion is that once it emerges, concentrate on limiting its movements." Debora announced that her Spirit possessed tremor sense, which she could achieve by channelling a minor stone shape in a radius of a few meters around them. As for Gwen, she could discreetly cast Detect Magic and Detect Traps somewhere along the way. The party arrived at the edge of the salt lake some two hours later. As the girls focused on buffing, Gwen refreshed her BB cream and took the opportunity to summon Ariel. Once her companions were distracted by the showman marten, she activated her detection spells. With mana-charged eyes, Gwen then scanned the blazing white horizon, seeing nothing of note as yet. "Let's leave the horses with Tommy." "No problems, Missus, I take care of the hoses." As it was the dry seasons, the entire lake was encrusted with salt, forming a smooth white plain of desolation where nothing lived. Gwen was now even more convinced that the Barking Spider was a voracious hunter. If it lived in a place without prey, then the spider must be an active hunter. No wonder it fed on the indigenous tribesmen. It took another half an hour of wandering through the salt flats for Yue to discovered a barely perceptible trail. "It's going this way," Yue announced. "Medium-sized prey, probably a Roo. Looks fresh. The salt here gets moved about pretty quickly." The party followed the trail. Except for Debora, whose body was doubly fortified by earth and Transmutation buffs, the girls were feeling the moisture loss that occurred thanks to salt and sun. "Halt." Gwen raised a hand as the girls drank from their canteens. She had felt her Divination tingle, and so scanned their surroundings. Not far, she sensed a trace of mana unique to Magical Creatures. "Can monsters use magic?" Gwen inquired. She wasn't too confident if monsters used spells or merely manifested phenomenon directly. "They can," Elvia chimed in. "Some monsters have innate magic." Gwen felt another tingling in the air. She channelled more magic into her eyes, feeling the strain impressed upon her eyeballs. There were motes of Transmutation here and there, as well as motes of indistinct elemental mana. "Elemental Air!" Gwen hollered suddenly. "That's why it's fine living on the salt flat! It's an Air Element spider!" Voo—VOOMPT! As if answering her call, a sudden eruption of silk exploded all around them. A massive web, previously buried underneath the girls, tore through the cracked surface of the salt flat and enclosed them like a parcel. "Minor Stone Shape!" Debora struck the earth, instantly summoning a massive dome of sand around the girls, creating an overhead barrier. Yue formed a circular gesture with both her hands. "Wall of Fire!" A ring of fire torched the space around the girls. Where the enclosing web touched its membranes onto the flames, it instantly ignited, leaving behind ash and foul-smelling gloop. 'Thump!' A foreleg shaped like a scythe punched through the sand barrier, stopping only a few centimetres before Gwen's face. "JESUS CHRIST!" Gwen screamed. "How strong is this thing?" A whirlwind of salt began to envelop the girls, smothering the Wall of Fire with salt crystals. Before Debora could react, the limb withdrew from the wall. Gwen tasted the magic in the air; the motes were thick with Transmutation. "I think its Hasted!" she warned the others. "Everyone, crowd around Evee in a triangle formation. Yue, shrink the ring of fire! Debs, I need you on your tremor sense! Focus on defence! Elvia, Bless and Aid! Give me a jolt of healing in ten seconds!" The girls moved into position as the whirlwind of salt obscured all vision. "Ariel, fire at will. Caliban, get underground!" Gwen commanded. She felt her vitality drain as her Void fiend shrouded itself with secreted mucus and wiggled underground, coiling its body like a spring. A few seconds later, Elvia's jolt of vitality flooded her conduits. "Are we waiting for it to strike?" Debora shouted over the roar of the salt-storm. "Yeah!" Gwen shouted back. "Its too fast, if we don't alpha strike it, its probably going to flee." "I'll play bait! I am sure I can handle a hit or two." "Wait and see," Gwen advised. "What about me?" Yue asked. "This wanker is too fast!" "Wanka," Gwen corrected her friend. "Use Scorching Rays on its legs. Try to target as many as you can! Warding Bolt! Call Lightning!" Her persistent spells targeted indiscriminately, but hopefully, they could be triggered quickly enough to slow down the Barking Spider. Outside the sand barrier, the salt storm was beginning to subside. The girls knew that if the creature were to strike, it would have to be very soon. The question was, from where would it come? _"GGGNNARK!"_ There was a roar - a crude, inhuman bark - an indescribable howl of guttural rage uttered by an arachnid, using its chitin to vibrate the air. "Here it comes!" Debora announced the tremor from a distance. "Four O'clock!" There was an explosion of sand some fifteen meters out, then a giant white mass, too fast for the eye to follow, descended upon the Blackwattle party.

Wanka moved like mercury slipping through air. Debora's hands met in the middle, causing her sand dome to expand. Gwen did her best to track the spider, but before she could utter a second warning, it landed on top of the semi-dome barrier— its salt-encrusted body bypassing Yue's Flaming Wall with only a fistful of singed hair. With the sound of screeching metal, its forelegs descended once again. This time, Debora's Transmutation was far too slow to adapt to its supernatural velocity, Debbie was apt, but she was no Abjurer. In the blink of an eye, Gwen spontaneously activated her Abjuration shield. With repeated use, even her stolen talent was reaching the tier of a sufficiently awakened Sigil; what she now lacked was the tenacity, strength and formal education. Wary of what might happen to her friends if she used void, Gwen evoked her lightning, manifesting her non-newtonian barrier, feeling her mana reserves deplete. _CLANG!_ There came the sound of a violent collision, followed by blinding flash of mana congealing were the blade-like legs struck. Crack! Fractures split the snowdome shielding from edge to edge. For now, Gwen's Shield held, but for how long they could not know. "Fuck!" Yue swore, echoing Gwen's thoughts. "Shield of Faith!" Elvia wasn't an Abjurer. Her shielding spells were underpowered, but right now, every layer helped. Debora's sand finally caught up, but Wanka effortlessly extracted its limbs from the grip of her silica. The Transmuter howled with frustration. Her control was still insufficient; she required higher tier spells to snare the beast. "It's too quick!" Debora wailed. "Shit!" Gwen felt her Warding Bolt and Thunderstorm both fired, but the air elemental Spider was highly resistant to lightning. Gwen's mind spun. Debora's sand was too ponderous; Gwen's lightning was ineffective, and Yue's fire was too slow to get a good hit on the sixteen-legged spider. "If we can hold it still..." Yue concentrated on maintaining her Wall of Fire. "We need to slow it down somehow," Elvia yelled. "I am going to Flashbang it!" Gwen shouted. "Directly on top of us. Deb! I need hardcover for the party!" "Nine O'clock!" Debora preempted the attack by gathering up the sand around them to form a dome. "Here it comes!" Gwen watched the sand creep over her mana shield, enclosing the girls in a semi-sphere of darkness. At the last moment, she reached out and conjured through her Evocation Sigil an over-channelled Flashbang spell. _BUNG!_ Erupted a muffled blast. There was the sound of something scribbling on the surface of the sand shield; then Gwen's Shield shook. Debora grunted as she held her barrier, withstanding the shockwave rippling over its surface, flaking off pieces of sand and revealing the glassy mana dome below. Something trashed wildly somewhere distant from their position. Debora collapsed the sand shield with a wave of her hand, revealing before the girls a white blur of blades and limbs the size of a combine-harvester. True to Goolagong's word, Wanka was a spider with an extra set of limbs. Its armoured body erupted in white bristling hair flinging salt this way and that as it spun in circles, lashing out with its forelimbs. From a safe distance, they could see that it had four retractable limbs which lashed out with scythe-like forelegs. Every time it attacked, the legs punched or pawed the air, like that of a mantis-shrimp. Two bolts of lightning, one from the conjured cloud and the other from Gwen's warding bolt lashed out overhead and struck the beast squarely, showering the spider with sparks. The creature spun and oriented itself towards the girls. "Flashbang!" Gwen front-loaded a sonic explosion directly before the creature, motioning for the others to shield the eyes. Once again, Wanka thrashed and spun. Gwen recalled that wolf spiders felt for pray with sensitive hairs on their forelegs, likewise relying on their incredible vision. If so, her Flashbang must be a hell of a sensory overload. "That spell is such a cheat," Yue stated wryly. She moved her hands and cut loose the mana she had spent the last few turns gathering. "Scorcher!" A total of six rays shot out from her hands, slicing into the blurring white mass. There was a scream of pain, then two limbs flew from the panicked spider, one skittering and rolling away while the other was flung violently through the air. "Flashbang!" Gwen shot off another spell as the girls held their ears. "That poor spider." Elvia looked away. "It's in so much pain." "Fireball!" Yue shot off her best spell, watching the small dot of fire zoom towards the spider. Upon impact, it's collated energy lashed out, rapidly expanding until it reached its maximum blast range. The force of the blast was enough to rip off a whole section of the spider's chitinous carapace. "Wait up." Gwen halted Yue before she could fire off another blast. "Caliban needs to feed." They watched as a lump of soil moved underfoot towards the spider, now skittering weakly, too damaged to escape. There was a wet sound as Caliban emerged under its abdomen. With a crunch, her creature pierced through Wanka's carapace, invading its body. The spider's legs shot out with an expression of indescribable pain as a parasitic netherworld worm dug through its guts in search of Creature Core. There came a second thunk! Then Caliban broke free from Wanka's face, its serpentine form steaming with ichor and purple bile. "Shaa! Shaa!" it announced satisfyingly. "Holy shit, Gwen." Yue hadn't seen Caliban in action before. Elvia's face turned pale; she held her mouth lest she lost the battle to contain her stomach contents. Debora was about to say something witty at the other two girls, but a sudden tremor beneath them sent her off balance. The vast white expanse of the salt-flat suddenly cracked, tectonic plates of salt shifting and moving as something huge began to break through the crust. "Fuck!" Yue dropped to her knees, losing balance. "What the hell is that?" "Jump!" Gwen grabbed Elvia by the waist. "Now!" Debora instantly reacted, she hadn't worked with Gwen for a month without building at least some rapport. She tackled Yue at the waist and activated her Jump spell. The two girls, each with a companion, leapt away from their standing positions. Gwen activated Feather Fall on her ring and used her an incanted Feather Fall on Elvia. Conversely, Debora used her Jump for horizontal movement; dashed herself and Yue some ten meters away from where they had stood only a moment before. A set of forelegs three metres in length extended from the broken salt. Gwen winced and looked down. She was bleeding profused because one of the claws had nicked her calve. When the pain finally travelled up her nerves, Gwen almost fainted. Her left leg as a mess— where Wanka had struck, it had cut her to the bone, exposing the white tenders still connecting her muscles. "Elvia!" Gwen called out. She wasn't sure how she would react. Their present engagement was the first time she had been wounded in a battle with a monster. She couldn't even imagine what would happen if they didn't have a healer. Below her, the sudden vertical movement had disorientated Elvia, but Gwen's sudden cry of alarm jolted her from her confusion. Placing both hands on her friend's thighs, the petite Cleric incanted her best spell. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Cure Moderate Wounds!" A gush of positive energy channelled through Gwen's body, instantly stitched her wound, mending the flesh and inflicting her with an itch that was impossible to scratch. Gwen moaned. The pain and the itch were exquisite, caught between two extremes, she didn't know whether to scream or cry. By now, she knew her Warding Bolt and Call Storm had fizzled. Some distance away, Debora was coughing up blood. She had used her own body to shield Yue, tanking the kinetic energy of Wanka Two's rebar-like forelimb. Only now did she realise a claw had bitten her Bronze Flesh, possibly cracking her collarbone. Conversely, Yue had been sent skidding half a dozen metres, disorientated but safe. "Fuck, the small wanker wasn't Wanka!" Yue shouted at the girls, stating the obvious. "This big tosser is Wanka! Wanka TWO!" Gwen meanwhile, still had ten-odd seconds of airtime. Below her, the spider was trying to pull itself from the encrusted earth. From the fissures, she could see that it had made a tunnel system beneath the salt lake, constructed its lair somewhere deep and terrible. Within the scope of her Detect Magic, the creature's mana signature burned. It was tier six; or at least at the apex of five. The smaller spider must have have been its mate! Gwen felt a kink of fear wrecking her spine. If they didn't kill it here, they could all die! "Debora!" Gwen called out. "Immobilise it! Don't let it get out!" As the spider's head emerged, Gwen dropped her Signature Spell in front of its sixteen scintillating eyes. "Flashbang!" The creature shrieked, but her spell was visibly less effective. The bigger the monster, the better its resistances. "Shape Earth!" Debora grunted between ragged breaths made more painful by her bruised body. Sand quickly filled the space where it had tried to scramble up from the earth, preventing the creature from breaking through the crust of salt. "Yue!" Yue poured the rest of her mana into an alpha strike. "Fucking Fire Storm!" she screeched forth her most potent Evocation, making a motion that mimed the pushing of some great force toward the earth. Above the behemoth spider, a swirling cloud of fiery tempest formed and began to rain down streaks of hissing fire, stabbing into the trapped Wanka. The spider's bristling hair was immediately aflame, sheets of encrusted salt sliding off its carapace from the impact, exposing its chitinous shell beneath. "Ariel!" Gwen commanded, and the sliver mongoose fired a blast of barbed lightning into the Wanka's face. A second later, the spider's bulbous body grew vivid with crawling electricity, electrocuting its target. "I can't hold it!" Debora cried out; she almost OoM, her glistening skin white with encrusted salt. Unlike Gwen, Debora had not undergone a nutrient-rich diet of crystals and Wild Land beasts to boost her reserves. "I am almost out as well!" Yue's face was dripping with salt and fatigue. She had barely reached Tier 4, meaning her fire variant of tier 4 Ice Storm overtaxed both her mind and her still-developing body. "Lightning Blast!" Gwen attempted a coup de grâce. Wanka Two ignited. Dozens of lightning bolts channelled one after another into the thorax of the spider. The first few were guided by Ariel's bristles towards its eyes but danced over the carapace harmlessly. The next few fared better, penetrating deeper into the spider to wreaking havoc upon its nerves. Smoke began to pour from Wanka Two's face. If spiders could scream, it would probably be shouting incoherently right now. "Haa—ha—" Gwen panted, likewise dripping with perspiration. _WHAM!_ Wanka broke free. The girls' screamed, Gwen included. Ariel made a heroic dash for the creature, but it was too slow and too small. Wanka shot straight toward Gwen and Elvia, its bulbous body a mass of salt-encrusted hair, its legs blurring as it raked against the earth, breaking through the salt and finding purchase on the rocks beneath. "Caliban!" Gwen sent out a mental command before calling for help. "Elvia! I need vitality! FILL ME UP!" Next, Gwen wrapped her arms around Elvia, crouching to minimise her profile. "Void Shield!" Gwen had never made a non-newtonian Void Shield before, though now that she did, she felt instantly hollowed out, With a supreme force of will, she kept herself awake. They had overestimated themselves. As a party, they were still too inexperienced. They had no Abjurer, and they had no Flight. Their talents made them too arrogant, had they were going to pay the price. The truth was, a party of synergised Mages with Flight and Earthen Shielding would find no trouble with Wanka. They could tank it; they could kite it, they could grind Wanka to dust. Comparatively, Gwen's party had two glass canons, two summons who couldn't tank, an off-tank, and a healer who has yet to learn AOE healing. They had insane damage output, of course, but if the first strike should fail, what then? Gwen felt dull thuds striking her Shield. In her arms, Elvia moaned as her life energy drained away, stolen by the connection between Healer and Void Mage. Outside, Yue watched helplessly as the truck-sized spider barrelled towards her friends. She was out of mana and felt a helplessness that she had never experienced when she was with Alesia. She could see Debora being caught in a sudden panic as well. Debby had said that she could be their tank - but reality had proven her insufficient and ill-equipped. Transmuters could do many things, but they could not fill the irreplaceable role of the Abjurer. Then suddenly and without warning, Gwen transformed into a ball darkness, drinking all light. Wanka itself seemed to realise the horror it was imminently facing. It tried to halt its momentum, but it was too fast, too heavy and too committed to its own brazen, rage-filled charge. The girls watched as the creature skidded, limbs akimbo then barrelled into Gwen's Void Shield. Its sword tipped arms scraped the surface, but made no sound. It was eerie. There was the sound of Wanka's limbs crashing against the salt, but where it had struck the Shield— there was only a silken silence. The impact was worse than Gwen had thought. She felt both her mana and her vitality drop like a stone down a deep, dry well. Had Elvia not been here, she would have likely fallen unconscious, her body acting out to save itself from the consumption. Her master was right. The Void Shield was too dangerous. It was a mash-up of antithetical abilities and synergies. Even if she won, it would be a pyrrhic victory of old, winning a battle by a hair's breadth. But what if her foe survived? Would a weakened, drained, and devastated Gwen be able to continue to protect her Evee? But luck was on Gwen's side. Now bereft of its sword tipped forelegs, Wank Two had lost all fineness. "Urrrnk! Hurrrrnk!" The spider's mandibles moved insanely, making that sound which Old Goolagong had said was an angry wombat humping a cockatoo, or was it a kookaburra? "Caliban!" Gwen called out again, hoping to God her Lovecraftian companion had made it. The spider tried to orientate its body but grew grossly unbalanced by the loss of its limbs. Compared to Wanka One, Wanka Two now appeared ponderous and slow. Gwen watched the ground beneath it crack open to reveal Caliban, a dark dart against the white salt. With an audible "crunch!" Her Familiar punching into the abdomen of the second creature. It was over, Gwen grasped their present danger. She and friend only needed to survive for the next fifteen seconds or so. Elvia's self-sacrifice had restored at least half her vitality. As Caliban made its way through the creature's innards, Gwen felt another hit of vital energy fortifying her trembling body. "Debora! Pillars!" Gwen called out as she sailed through the air towards her companions. "Evee, hang on! Jump!" Gwen's miraculous survival filled her party with renewed energy. As commanded, Debora placed her hands upon the now shattered salt-lake and incanted, erecting dozens of pillars to obstruct their foe. Wanka seemed to know that its life would soon be forfeit. Something was slowly but inevitably making its way up to its cephalothorax, obliterating its organs as it went. When it reached its Core, Wanka, Queen of the salt lake, would be no more. The spider charged at the girls, pushing past the pillars. Its massive body was crashing and tearing through Debora's barriers like paper. Drawing on a second wind, the girl fought back with Magic Missiles and cantrips. Gwen especially forcing out a few more Flashbangs to try and slow it down. Then, mid-strike, the spider halted. All of its limbs give out at once. There was a wiggling of the carapace around its head. Gwen felt her Kirin amulet grow hot. "Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban triumphantly emerged, its purple body glistening with spider ichor and gore. It was utterly engorged with Wanka's life force, its obese girth glimmering gluttonously. "Good work Cali!" Gwen hailed the creature as it leapt from the carcass. Ariel slinked before Gwen expectantly. "You too, buddy!" She stroked Ariel's fur as it purred, turning over and over. Caliban approached and began to convulse. "Oh God, what's it doing now?" Elvia swallowed the vomit rising in her throat, her face a mask of fascinated horror. With a sticky hurling motion, Caliban spewed out two mana cores twice the size of a fist. "Oh!" Yue reached out to take a core. "Fingers crossed for SPIDER SPIRIT, YO!" The girls held their breath. Nothing. There was no Spirit inside. Yue tried the second Core. Nothing. The triumphant atmosphere instantly grew cold. Debora's luck of the Irish aside, the odds of finding a spirit was near-impossible. "Still, a Core this size, at least two-three hundred HDMs?" Yue appraised their loot expertly. They talked a lot about money during their jungle adventure, especially adventure spoils. "They usually shatter, you know. Good work, Caliban!" Caliban wiggled disgustingly. Gwen touched the amulet beneath her blouse. As before, at the corner of her eye, she recalled something moving from the carcass towards her. The mirage appeared to have to dissipate halfway, leaving only a vague, benevolent feeling of warmth. She would have to question someone about the charm someday, Gwen realised. But, her father seemed to know nothing about it; and she doubted he would have given it so freely had the lazy Morye known of its boon. What would Opa think? She wondered. He had said nothing when she had worn it openly. Did her Kirin amulet appear to others to be a non-magical object? Merely a keepsake? "Pop it in the bag," Yue said to Gwen. Gwen performed as Yue had asked, stowing the cores in her Storage Ring. The girls watched Yue go over to the spider and began to hack off its limbs. "What are you doing?" Elvia inquired, her blue eyes wide and innocent. Yue extracted a length of crystalline flesh as thick as her arm from a split leg. "Fuck yeah," she sang. "This wanker's a real beauty." The girls could see she was salivating. "..." Gwen nodded to herself. Wanka was a giant Hokkaido deep-sea crab, wasn't it? Waste not— want not. Debora looked like she was about to hurl. She was strict meat and three vegetable kind of girl. Elvia, conversely, never in her life imagined that a 'land crab' like a spider could be edible. "Crab party!" Yue announced cheerfully, presenting the legs to Gwen one by one. "You got more room in there?" Gwen nodded. She had enough room. She also liked to eat crab.

Tommy was waiting for the girls to return at the edge of the salt lake. The smile on his face froze as details emerged with the girls' bedraggled state. "How was it?" worriedly, Tommy asked. His Missus Mages had left as cool as cucumbers and returned beaten to within an inch of their lives. "Did you find Wanka?" Gwen's right boot had been slashed in half; her leather riding pants ripped beyond repair. Debora's tanktop was torn and shredded; a smidgen of blood dashed across her chin and chest. The other two girls were worse for wear as well. "There were TWO wankers." Yue was too tired to bother differentiating between annunciations. "The second wanker ambushed us." Tommy made an 'o' with his mouth. "All good." Gwen walked over to her horse and rubbed its snout. "We nailed them both, got their cores right here." She raised a hand and flashed her nondescript ring. "That's wonderful!" Tommy uttered, a broad smile appearing on his face. "I knew there was no way Wanka could stand up to you, Missus Boss." "Well, let's get back. I could do with a lie-down," Gwen intoned with a distinct lack of vivacity. Even with Elvia's positive energy supplements, she felt drunk with fatigue. The journey back to the camp was sullen and silent. "I am sorry, everyone," Debora disrupted the silence when they saw the camp in the distance, her voice uncharacteristically demure. "I wasn't a good defender. I endangered all of us." "Don't be like that, Debs. You did your best. We couldn't have done it without you," Gwen said. "You took a hit for Yue. Not to mention you kept us safe from the Wanka One just fine." "I overestimated myself." Debora exhaled. "Now I know why every team needed an Abjurer." "Yeah, we need to find a proper Abjurer for the 5v5." The rawness of Yue's criticism turning Debora's face a shade darker. "Yunnie." Gwen raised her pitch an octave. That was rather rude even for Yue. "What do you think, Elvia?" Yue tried to shift Gwen's ire elsewhere, but their companion remained silent. The girl rode in silence until they reached the camp, where Old Goolagong was waiting for them. "Welcome back, I'wai, heroes of the tribe. I sense you are successful." "We almost died." Debora dismounted. She turned to face Old Goolagong with an unfriendly expression. "Did you know there were two of them? What were you planning? Did you hope we'd die there?" "Debora!" Gwen warned her friend. "You shouldn't trust them!" Debora seemed far more hostile than her usual self. Before they could answer, Debora fled towards their tent in a huff. "Is Debs hale?" Gwen asked Elvia. The little girl nodded. "I healed her earlier. Debs had a minor fracture in her shoulder and severe bruising. She's fine, now." They watched Debora zip up her tent with sullen violence. Gwen didn't know what to think. How uncharacteristic. Debora wasn't acting like the happy-go-lucky girl-next-door she knew. It was a facet of her friend she had never seen before. "I told you she's a racist? Remember? I told you as early as junior high," Yue groused vindictively, thinking of yesteryears. "Remember her favourite Asian jokes? The one about us eating dogs?" Gwen and Elvia looked at Yue. That would have been a far more convincing argument if she didn't dismember Wanka. Gwen opted to forgo riposting Yue's accusation. Instead, she calmed her friend by placing a hand on her shoulder. Gwen felt older than the girls, her temper less prone to wild assumptions and snap judgements, and that it was her duty to keep the peace. Thinking of Debora, Gwen felt that the athletic late-teen wasn't so much a racist as one who was under a lot of undue stress. As an armchair psychologist, she would suggest that Debora suffered an inferiority complex. In failing to deliver the same performance as Yue, she looked to blame Goolagong. But Gwen didn't feel right indulging Debora just because she was feeling down. The girl needed to grow both as a person and as a Mage, what good was a powerhouse who couldn't control their temper? They'd just be a danger to themselves and others. "Leave her be, Yue." Gwen patted Yue's legs, telling her to chill. "We're not all built the same way, walk a mile in Debora's shoes sometimes and I am sure you'll come to understand her frustrations." "Hmmph!" Yue grunted. Old Goolagong said nothing. "We begin ritual at nightfall, get a nice big bonfire going! We make _corroboree!_ But first, let's get you settled into some bush tucker! Nothing like it in the cities." "Alright!" Yue rubbed both hands together. "I got some bush tucker for you folks as well." "Gwen." Elvia pulled at Gwen's sleeves. "Should I go check up on Debora?" Gwen shook her head. Feeding into Debbie's wants only empowered their misery. In Gwen's experience, it was better to let girls get over it on their own, then praise them for their wisdom in achieving a change of heart. "Let's go." Gwen hooked her hand into Elvia's elbow. "I've heard interesting things about bush tucker. Let's see what they have." Already there was a stacked and smoking bonfire when the migloo magicians arrived at the corroboree. The girls watched with fascination as fellow tribesmen painted the dancers with meticulous care. Gwen was hoping to see some authentic bush-magic but was disappointed when a lanky indigenous man produced flint and tinder and sparked the woodpile. He gave her the evil eye before leaving to join the others, evidently untrusting of Migloo magicians. "I wasn't sure what I expected." Gwen looked around awkwardly when Old Goolagong asked her what she had expected. "Why make magic when rocks will do?" Gwen shrugged. Why indeed. The older women in the camp made dinner while the younger women served. As guests, Gwen and the group didn't need to participate in the making of supper itself. Yue however, dug a cooking pit for herself. "The one thing Debby is good for, and she's not here," Yue commented sardonically. "Typical." "..." Gwen and Elvia said nothing. Sometimes, only silence was golden. Yue quickly arranged the wood into a hollowed piled. "Conjure Flames." Yue moved her hand this way and that, carefully controlling an arcane flame to char and dry out the wood. "Can't you cook directly with magical fire?" Gwen asked. "Tried, taste like crap. There's just something about elemental fire that ain't right." The girls watched as Yue stirred the wood until the charcoal smouldered. "Pan please, and butter - all the butter, garlic too." Gwen materialised them and handed it over. They watch the butter sizzle in the pan. A crowd of the locals had also decided to venture over to see what she was doing. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Crab please." Gwen materialised the bundle of 'crab' legs. The indigenous folks marvelled at the size of the 'seafood'. It would be a rare treat for them, their home being so far from the ocean. Yue roasted the legs first to burn off the hairy bristles, watching the shell turn a vivid red. With its mystical energies gone, the carapace easily cracked, the juicy flesh expanding as it cooked. She then sliced off generous chunks of aromatic white meat and sizzled it in the butter, sending out a delicious scent. Gwen drooled. With the first pan of 'Wanka de garlic' served, dinner began in earnest. The irresistible scent of 'crab' flesh drew the locals from far and wide, lining up around the girls for a slice of the rare treat. In exchange, they brought bush tucker, bushels of bush tomato, cucumber, and sweet berries that had an acidic zest. Others brought sweet potatoes and other unnamable root vegetables, which made a lovely addition to the meal. Old Goolagong poked at her generous portion of flesh with suspicion. "What is this? I never imagined sea creatures be so large!" She muttered to herself. She placed a chunk into her mouth and savoured the taste. "Wonderful." She allowed the sweet flavour to roll over her tongue. "What do you call this?" "Wanka." Yue waved a section of the empty carapace in the air. She'd found that it was easier to directly cook the flesh in its shell by smothering it in butter, achieving an extraordinary crispy layer that crunched indulgently with buttery oil. Old Goolagong dropped her plate. "Shit!" She stammered alarmingly, her eyes bulging. "You're eating a greater spirit of the earth?" "We." Yue smiled innocently at Old Goolagong. "We are eating a magical creature. Not earth, by the way, Wanka was an air element, can't you feel it in the flesh? It's fluffy and light." Old Goolagong looked conflicted. She had never wasted food; it was a matter of respect. Timidly, the Spirit Walker tried her best to eat her portion, her tongue greasy with guilt and trepidation. Gwen wasn't fussy herself. If there was one thing she needed after a Caliban session, it was copious amounts of food. There was her etherial hunger of the soul, which hungered for a sustenance of the spirit; then there was the physical hunger, which sought nourishment from nature. With dinner done, it was now time for the metaphorical main course. Old Goolagong gathered the girls next to the bonfire. Already, the beginnings of a corroboree were in the process. Patiently, she explained that the dance was a language, a law, a story, and a place; it was all of these things and together, it was the Dreaming. "We will sing the song of Almudj, _Singing the Snake_ , and it will come to visit you in the Dreaming." "Right." Gwen nodded. "Well, off with it."Goolagong gestured to Gwen's chest. "With what?" Gwen inquired innocently. Goolagong pointed to her impressive nakedness, gleaming with a sheen of dark sweat between the risen moon and the flickering firelight. "Glyph, markings, magic words, to send Almudj to you, _migloo_ girl!" "Aww, hell yeah!" Yue slapped Gwen on the buttocks. "Get DOWN girl!" "Oh." Elvia blushed flamingo pink from her dimples to her collarbones. "Seriously?" Gwen blanched and burned. Goolagong nodded. Gwen looked at her friends expectantly. Thank God Debora wasn't here. "I need to keep my... private garments on," Gwen said flatly, that was not up for negotiation, not with her friends and the tribe here. "Your choice, don't blame me if Almudj dismisses you for a rock." Old Goolagong shrugged. "You _migloos,_ all that talk and bluster." Gwen began to remove her top, three pairs of eyes stared intently. "Do you guys have to gawk so much?" Gwen inquired, even her navel was blushing. "It's for your good." Yue bit into another length of crab leg, chewing loudly. "Keep going." "Oh. My. God." Elvia was covering her face adorably, peaking out between her fingers. "Gwen! You're as white as snow!" "She's the whitest _migloo_ I'd ever seen," Goolagong noted, her brows wiggling like two caterpillars fighting for dominance of her face. Gwen could see that her ghostly paleness had brought curious eyes from all over. Thankfully, they weren't interested in her nakedness; they were taken by instead by her ethereal visage. "A Spirit!" someone cried out in alarm in the distance. "There is a _migloo_ ghost!" Gwen didn't know whether to laugh or cry. With one pull, she removed her singlet like clotted gauze. She'd preferably get it over and done with than suffer the indignity of Yue's running commentary that followed each item of clothing. If Yue had dollar notes, she would have probably offered it. "Jesus, Gwen!" Yue suddenly cried out, the 'crab' leg stopping at her lips. "Girl! You need to eat!" Gwen was now down to her undergarments. The girls could see her very modest bust, but it was Gwen's ribs that shocked them, for they were obtrusively visible under her pale skin, as were her hip bones. "Fuck me, you're a skeleton," Yue blurted. "I've seen you eat, hows that possible?" "It's the Void Magic," Elvia said quietly. "I know how powerful your Void Magic is, but Gwen - you gotta take care of yourself!" Yue uttered in dismay. Gwen nodded. Before she awakened, her body was skinny but athletic. Now she looked as though she had gone through a string of obsessive crash diets. Her waist was so thin that it made Elvia's torso seemed full-bodied. "Is that an effect of the Void spells as well?" Yue poked Gwen's stomach, where her skin was like a sheet of ivory, shimmering in the firelight with a pale nimbus. "I think so," Gwen replied. Being quarter-Chinese and one-eighth Indonesian, she should possess a natural tan. Now Gwen burned at the slightest touch and had to avoid direct sunlight. She felt like an Eastern European vampire. Gwen thought about Elizabeth. No wonder they thought she was one of the undead. "You _migloos_ ready? The moon is going to sleep soon!" Goolagong vocalised abruptly. She had prepared the paints, the salted red pigments, the white ash, the dark amber, the yellow ochre, the orange blossoms collected from wildflower stalks. Now all these girls wanted to do was talk! "Skinny is skinny, at least you haven't starved to death. It happens, you know, when the land is dry! Come, _Migloo_ girl! I need to put some colour on you before my mob thinks there's a Spirit in their midst." Gwen presented herself for Goolagong's inspection. Her legs were okay, having retained their feminine shape. The worst of it was when Yue whistled lasciviously, giving her flashbacks to Kwan's party. "Well, looks like your body's nutrients head downstairs before it fortifies up top," her friend noted expertly. "Double the butter!" "I think its a matter of nutrients, not fat," Elvia added. Gwen took off her boots and felt the softness of the red earth under her feet, its particles of fine, dried clay shifting between her toes. "Alright, let's begin." Goolagong dabbed her fingers into the pots of pigment and began to colourise Gwen in the sigils of the Dreaming. The dyes weren't slimy, as Gwen had anticipated, but powdery. Goolagong first dapped on the sap of a plant Gwen could not name, then began to draw intricate patterns over her thighs, her stomach, making her way across Gwen's body. "That needs to go," Goolagong said drily. Gwen was already numb with embarrassment. She obediently removed the last vestige of civilisation from her torso. Goolagong continued. Gwen's arms were painted and dotted to represent her body's ley-lines, channelling the spirit toward her heart. Her torso became spotted with two lines of ochre with a red line bisecting her bosom, curving around the swelling of her breasts. "You two, come here," Goolagong commanded, telling Yue and Elvia to put their hands into the white powder. "Slap! Like this!" Goolagong slapped Gwen's thigh, leaving behind a ghostly white handprint. "HA!" Yue slapped Gwen on the bottom, twice, leaving behind two ghostly hands. SLAP! Gwen gritted her teeth and held back kicking sand in her friend's face. Elvia was kinder than the mischievous Yue, she gingerly placed a few handprints on Gwen's stomach, her thighs, and her back, uncontrollably blushing as she performed her duty. "Finishing touch! Almost done!" Goolagong said finally and went to work on Gwen's face. The old Spirit Singer's fingers blurred, dabbing Gwen's brow, her cheeks and her neck with markings that spoke of her pure spirit, of her desire to seek counsel with Almudj, the great serpent mother of the land. "Done!" Goolagong exclaimed proudly, examining her work. The migloo girl looked the part at least - if one ignored her glistening white skin. "Now go dance, go join the corroboree." "I am sorry, what?" Gwen had thought she had heard something entirely impossible, like being asked to dance naked while covered in indigenous markings. "Fool girl! You are Dreaming! Not dreaming!" Goolagong laughed. She pulled herself up and took Gwen's hand in the process. "Come!" Yue's eyes were gleaming. O how she wished that she had brought a Lumen-recorder. Sucks to be that Debora, Yue thought, she doesn't know what she's missing. Elvia tightly clutched Yue's arm, living vicariously through Gwen, too afraid to join. Gwen meanwhile, couldn't possibly dream of what her friends were thinking. She moved into a mass of moving dark bodies dripping with the sweat of exertion. The old Spirit Speaker joined a part of the circle, pushing Gwen before her to the astonishment of others around them. "What do I do?" Gwen was still covering her breasts with her hands. "Follow the music; just move!" Old Goolagong laughed, moving her arms and following the music without apparent effort. "Let it come to you!" Gwen slowly moved her hands from her chest and tried to follow the music. She stumbled here, wobbled there, flaying her arms urgently with graceless, incoherent fumbling. Even Yue was embarrassed by Gwen's gangly display, driven to tears by her exhibitionism. Elvia's expression was likewise between sympathy and cringe, her face caught between the theatrical masques of tragedy and comedy. Gwen felt the tempo rise along with the temperature. There was a sense of dizziness that was beginning to replace her self-conscious nakedness. Round and round the corroboree went, circles within circles. There was a sudden clap. _"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi_!" uttered old Goolagong, slapping her thighs. To her surprise, Gwen followed suit with the rest of the dancers, not missing a beat. _"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!"_ The didgeridoo reverberated, the chanting sticks striking a staccato beat. The world around Gwen became less defined, the edges of figures above and below blurred. _"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!"_ _"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!"_ There was a sudden sound of thunder. Gwen was now covered with a sheen of white sweat, sweltering in the yellow firelight, her perspiration soaked into the markings upon her skin, they seemed to glimmer, burning with colour, becoming more vivid, pronounced, more striking with every move. A sudden fermata. A pause. A lull in the movement. "It comes! Almudj comes to Dream!" cried out old Goolagong. Gwen crumpled, exhausted from the dance, breathing heavily, the swell of her small, white breasts panting for air. Yue and Elvia listened with fascination as a sudden thunder rolled across the sky. There was a green glow in the distance, then a cascade of colour washed over the cloudless heavens. "Where did that come from?" Yue looked at Elvia, who had no answers for her. "Look there!" Elvia pointed toward the sky, her own eyes gleaming with anticipation. They lifted their chins and saw a scintillating, brilliant Aurora Australis unfolding across a backdrop of the Milky Way. The gathered crowd observed the scene before them, agog with awe and wonder. Cradled in Goolagong's arms, Gwen began to Dream.

_Almudj!_ _The rainbow snake_ _see it take wing_ _the wind_ _and water fills the rivers and gullies_ _and billabongs;_ _Almudj!_ _see it brings forth_ _all life_ _the valleys_ _and water fills the dry earth_ _Almudj!_ _see it brings forth_ _all life sleeping_ _Almudj!_ _Kin!_ Gwen opened her eyes. The cobalt sky was so blue it hurt her eyes. "Kalinda!" Old Tjupurrula was lying against a tree, his skin covered with dots and spirit that guided the lifeforce within his body, signifying his place as Singer for the tribe. "Go and sing, let the snake know." Gwen moved her lithe and athletic figure over the red clay. She watched her long legs effortlessly cross the distance between her feet, space disappearing as though she was gliding. She raced across the scorching earth with her feet, barely touching the smouldering sand. She entered a cavern, her bare skin glad to be resting on cold volcanic shale. The was a pool here, its waters crystal in clarity. "Almudj! Almudj!" Gwen heard herself call out. A serpentine head appears from the pool, formed almost entirely of crystalline water. It begins to materialise, becoming more distinct with each passing second. There was a flicker, a blink of an eye, and Gwen was looking upon the familiar face of the Rainbow Serpent, the very one she had encountered at the Royal National, in a cavern not too dissimilar from this one. "O Almudj." Gwen felt herself kneel. She opened her arms and noted in the reflection that she was entirely naked, her skin wet with sweat that had soaked into the lines of spirit Glyphs adorning her bosoms, her stomach, her arms and thighs. Her face as well was crowded with Glyphs that allowed her to commune with the mother serpent. The serpent's head floated closer; it's forked-tongue, as thick as her arm, flickering faster than her eyes could follow. When Almudj tasted her skin, she felt the coldness of its pink appendage taking in her scent, revelling in the warmth of her hot, sun-flushed flesh. Gwen opened her arms, the serpent moving its head toward her. She pressed her body into the side of its enormous head, feeling its dry, warm scales that had the texture of fingernails, watching them shimmer and shine with a rainbow's hue. "Kin!" A voice inside her head gave the scent of a brewing storm. "You are safe?" "I am safe, Almudj," Gwen replied, in a voice that was her own and not her own. "You are weak. You are hollow." There was the smell of rotting gum leaves after a summer squall. "I missed you so much, Almudj." Gwen heard herself reply to a conversation that existed out of sync and out of time. "I am alright," Gwen replied, but her dream persona said nothing. She was merely borrowing the memories of another. "Usurpers come!" Gwen felt such disgust, as though thurst into the rotting mud of mangroves. "Impossible, Tjupurrula said they could not come here! They couldn't get past the ley of the Dreaming!" Gwen's alter persona uttered with naive disbelief. An explosion rocked the cavern, broken slabs of shattered shale to fall from the ceiling, peppering Gwen with shards of dagger-sharp fragments. A wayward stone sliced into her forehead, releasing an arterial spray of blood all over Almudj's shimmering scales. Her glyphs of dreaming were despoiled by the blood, breaking the flow mana between each symbol. With the severing of her connection, Gwen felt as though ripped untimely from a womb. There were figures of men and women in cowls— Mages, shouting incoherently at the cavern's mouth. Another spell rocked the cave; someone had altered the structure of the cavern's natural supports, and the roof began to collapse in earnest. There was no pain, only a feeling of falling as darkness overwhelmed Gwen's alter-ego. A sudden rage filled Gwen, a fury so primordial that she felt her skin split and the magma blood within flow out in molten chunks. Outside, the ground split, the heavens roared, the earth shook. Old Tjupurrula roared with laughter, even as the last of his life's blood flowed into the red earth. _Kapi Kapi Kapi_ Almudj had awoken. Almudj did not like strangers; it is known. Almudj will attack strangers. Yue and Elvia watched as Gwen's body suffuse with a viridescent shimmer, indicative of the atmospheric phenomenon they had just witnessed. The Glyphs glowed as well as her body, nude but for the paint that provided questionable modesty. All she had attired was her underwear, her storage ring, and her nondescript jade necklace. That and an ordinary necklace they had seen Gwen wore since the start of their senior year, only now, it was no longer mundane. The jade Kirin seemed to bath in the green stream of energy that shimmered over Gwen's body, glowing with a dim, benevolent light as it went about its mysterious function. "That's positive energy, life force, Essence." Elvia did what she could to clarify the phenomenon. Gwen moaned, her friendly watched without words as her body suffused with new life. With every pulse, Gwen's limbs grew supple, her breasts grew full, and her complexion regained some of its natural colour. Their friend was still anorexic and diminished, but at the very least, her health appears restored. "Shit, if I knew you could get bigger tits just by getting a paint job and doing a nuddy dance, I'd be in my birthday suit in a second," Yue informed Elvia. "Evee, I think you just missed a once a lifetime opportunity." Elvia placed a hand on her petite bosom. She certainly did not begin the day expect to go full frontal. "How about that, huh, Gwen told me it was from her dad." "The amulet?" "Oi, she's waking up!" Yue pointed to Gwen as the sorceress stirred, pushing herself from the red sand. Gwen was indeed waking up. She seemed disorientated though, for her bodily movements were gangly and awkward, more akin to a marionette. "Almudj?" Old Goolagong performed a double-take. "That's impossible! Gwen's a migloo!" The Spirit Walker had seen possessions before; it wasn't that uncommon. In her tribe, Spirit Walking was a good omen, demonstrating that the serpent liked a particular Singer. A possessed body meant that they had an opportunity to directly commune with Almudj, to plead a cause or to ask for a boon. There was also another instance where Almudj possessed a Singer. That was when the tribe would be under attack, and the Spirit Speaker had to invoke the taboo request for the Mother Serpent to bring death upon her enemies. She was reminded of the old Yirriti saying, 'the Snake is proper cheeky. It will attack invaders. It will return the bodies of the invaders to the earth.' Old Goolagong had never performed that dreaded rite before, but she knew an angry primordial spirit when she saw one. " _Baardanginy woort koorl! Woot koor!_ " She cried into the night, alerting her tribesmen, she then turned to the girls. "Run! Run as far as you can!" As if to demonstrate her point, Goolagong herself scrambled on all fours, abandoning the girls as she dug her heels into the red dirt, fleeing faster than a whipped dingo. The remaining two girls regarded one another. "Did she say run away?" Yue asked puzzlingly. Elvia never had a chance to reply, for she felt the sudden gathering of mana within Gwen. It wasn't the skin tingling electricity to which they were accustomed. What they felt now was something bigger, something far older, something that etched into the land and the sky. "Run!" Elvia grabbed Yue and pulled her aside. Gwen raised an arm and pointed her hand toward some distant target. The girls followed the vector of her long, elegant finger. "Debora?!" Yue's eyes were so round as to be throbbing. "What the fuck did Debora do to Gwen?" "Debbie!" Elvia's scream rang through the night, a piercing trill of nightingale lost in the dark distance. "RUN!" _"BARBANGINY!"_ Gwen called out to the heavens, and there was a distant thundering despite the clear, cloudless sky. There was no commotion from Debora's tent. "Shit!" Yue cried out, her chest filled with conflicted emotions. She didn't like Debora, she wanted her to go away, but she certainly didn't want Debora to die. "She's not going to make it!" Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Elvia could do nothing either. She just hoped that whatever was happening, there would be enough of Debora left for her to heal. A crash of thunder rolled across the sky, a tidal wave of sound that seemed to crack the heavens itself. The gathering mob watched with horror as a blade of green lightning, scintillating and glowing with multi-coloured hues, ionised from thin air, as though send down from the Milky Way itself. It instantly struck downwards, towards the area where the girls had set their tents - where Debora was presumably still sullenly sleeping. There was a pinpoint flash as the lightning connected, then an explosion. A shockwave rippled through the epicentre, violently pushing away the red dirt in an expanding ring of dust. Humpies became uprooted, boulders the size of human heads rolled. All vision became choked by dust and a reddish haze. "Debora!" Yue expanded her Flame Barrier, her shield was a wet paper bag against pinpoint attacks, but she was at least capable of holding back a blast wave. Explosions were her bread and butter after all. Elvia faired better beside her. She could generate a Shield of Faith, a self-replenishing shield spell that was composed primarily for those capable of channelling from the Positive Plane. The incantation served as an alternative for non-abjuration casters, having greater strength, resilience, and regeneration than the average Mage's shielding incantation. The cost was horrendous mana-drain. Following the explosion, Gwen seemed to regain her senses. She reached behind her head and pulled out a shimmering something. Yue and Elvia observed Gwen falling to her knees, gasping and panting as the dust cloud roved over, swallowing the duo with a carpet of debris. "Debbie!" She called out, forcing her body to move. "Yue! Elvia! Help Debora!" Gwen had felt the last mote of life fade from her alter-ego, crushed by the fallen chunks of shale. She felt the anger of Almudj like a rising tide, like the tectonic movement of the earth. As a force of savage nature, Almudj burst forth from the cavern, its scales shimmering and refracting violently in the hot gold hush of noonday sun. There were Mages - invaders and usurpers, fleeing before Almudj like ants, throwing ineffective spells that cascaded across its scales. Almudj's rage reverberated, cascading towards every horizon. There was a glimmering hue of chartreuse and lime burning in the atmosphere, bright enough to be visible in the light of day, then a burst of Aurora Australis burst through the heavens. An emerald storm swept the shuddering earth. With the ejaculation of the first blast, she felt the consciousness of Almudj fall from her cognisance. For a moment there, she had taken on the skin of the serpent, felt its frustration and anger. With the release of all that pent-up energy, she had shed that skin and regained her mind. That was when she saw an emerald shard slash through the night and strike the area where the girls had their tents. "Almudj, no!" She cried out, shock and horror overwhelming her in an instant. "Debora!" "Invader!" A voice cried out within her mind, boiling with seething anger, the smell of bushfires thick and heavy as it spoke. "Usurper! Kill it!" Even semi-conscious, Gwen instinctively knew what she had to do. She reached behind her neck and dug a finger into the scale embedded at the back of her neck. Both willing it to dislodge and gripping the gift with her fingers, she ripped the thing from her neck. The disconnect came suddenly and violently. Gwen felt as though she had been severed from the world. At once, she fell from somewhere warm and filled with light into icy darkness. In the distance, the thunderous fulmination landed. As a lightning Mage, she knew how much power had gone into that blast. It far exceeded her capabilities; it was a force of nature, not conjured from the Elemental Plane of Lightning - it was a manifestation of old creation when the land was young. "Debbie!" She called out, forcing her body to move. "Yue! Elvia! Help Debora!" By the time the girls had gotten to the site, there was nought but a smouldering crater two metres wide and half a meter deep. The sand and silica beneath had already become glass, mangled and hideously molten. The camp was gone. The tents were vaporised, shredded, torn to smithereens. "Fuck!" Yue uttered in disbelief. "What the fuck just happened?" "Gwen?" Elvia approached, lowering her shield. "What happened to Debbie?" Gwen couldn't answer her friends, not coherently, not at this moment. She still couldn't believe what had just occurred. Did she attack Debora? Had she called that lightning? No, that was not Gwen. That was Almudj. Yet, it was Gwen who was accountable nonetheless. She had taken the girls here. She had wanted to speak to the Spirit Speaker. She was the one who endangered them. And now Debora was dead? Just like that? Gwen felt a chilling wind freezing her all over despite the shimmering heat still hanging over the air. She was sticky with the cold sweat of disbelief. She wanted to rewind the moment, to redo and reload the last minutes of her surreal reality. She dug her hands into the earth, still hot with the bombastic energies of the blast. "Debbie—" Gwen began to wail. "I am sorry, I am so sorry—" "Fuck!" Yue couldn't believe her eyes either. Did Gwen just blast Debora to kingdom come? Did her friend just murder their non-mutual friend in cold blood? For what reason? "Gwen…" Elvia's tears were bubbling from her luminous blue eyes, falling over her face like a string of pearls. It had happened all too fast for her to comprehend rationally, but she understood the immensity of the traumatic moment with dreaded clarity. "Debbie…" "Jesus Christ!" A voice exclaimed behind them, ascending from a lower section of the plateau, "What the hell happened here?" "Debbie died!" Elvia's words escaped her quivering mouth before her eyes could accurately register who she was seeing. Debora was dripping wet from head to toe, on now her toned silhouette was covered with a layer of red dust that plastered to her skin like clay. "I died? That's news to me," Debora answered, water dripping from her face. "I was taking a dip at the billabong there, and there was this sweet Aurora, then a huge blast shook the camp so I came as quickly as I could." Yue regarded Debora with mixed feelings. She had to admit when it came to it; she preferred Debbie alive and Gwen un-traumatised. The girls turned to regard Gwen, who was striking the earth and bawling her eyes out, howling incoherent cries of grief toward the heavens. "Debbie!" Gwen screamed with a pitch that struck their ears with a ringing tinnitus. Good—God! Gwen exhaled. She had never felt so exhilarated to see someone so alive and well. Leaping from her kneeling position, she ran towards Debora, arms and legs akimbo. Yue and Elvia watched Gwen embrace Debora bodily, hugging her so hard as to press her own body onto Debora's. "What's happening?" Debora still seemed to be somewhat confused. She looked as though she was about to protest Gwen's motives with a little teasing. Then Gwen pulled Debora close and squeezed the words out of her lungs. Gwen violently kissed Debora's still wet forehead. "Whoa, hello!" Debora struggled to break free, grappling against the softness of Gwen's unexpected gift. Gwen pulled herself back, wiping tears from her face. "See, I told you guys you shouldn't be doing primitive magic with these people." Debora placed a hand on her waist and struck out her hip critically. "Look at Gwen. She's butt naked crazy." Then Debora's jaws fell through the floor. She just realised that beneath all that body paint, Gwen was in fact in a state of complete undress, her modesty preserved by nought but the meagrest layer of cotton. Without resistance, Debora leaned in for another hug, resting chin on Gwen's shoulders, smeared Gwen's paint across her face. Yue and Elvia felt a tingle of awkward discomfort. Elvia watched Debora's arms fold arch over Gwen's perky buttocks and wrap around her narrow waist. She didn't like that Debora was taking such liberties just because she almost died. After all, she didn't even get injured; it was all a misunderstanding. "So what the hell happened?" Yue was more interested in why Gwen had suddenly turned a green and psychotic. The rest of the village was now returning to the fold. From the expressions of shock and fury, they did not take to Gwen's actions to mean well. Gwen had disrupted a consecrated ritual. The corroboree was the sacred rite of the land, its rules and history, its stories and its legends. Now, these migloo magicians had once again destroyed their home, disrupted their camps, interrupted their Dreaming. Without the corroboree, the bora ring, the encampment would be prone to invasion by the evil spirits of the night. They would find no peace, only more displacement and uncertainty in the Green Zone. The girls backed away from the gathering mob, now seething with a wave of dark anger/ "I think we better get the hell out of here." Gwen heard Yue mutter beside her. "Are the horses still alive?" "Tommy?" Gwen incanted into a short-range Message spell. "Tommy, are you safe? Loudly whistle if you are!" There was a loud whistle from not far. "Whistle twice if the horses are alright. Otherwise, we're leaving on foot!" There were two shrill whistles. "Alright, to Tommy!" Gwen grabbed Elvia, and the group began to make their way towards the edge of the forest escapement. The tribe silently glared as they escaped, but choose not to pursue in fear of retribution from the migloo Mages. "Dancing Lights!" Gwen summoned some visibility once the girls were a safe distance away from the now destroyed campsite. Tommy soon reached their sides with the horses. To their surprise, Old Goolagong was with him. "What… what happened?" Gwen questioned the old Spirit Speaker as soon they were close enough to speak. "I felt the serpent take over my mind for a second. It was so angry, so overwhelmed with grief." Old Goolagong shook her head. "Can you tell Old Goolagong what you saw in the Dreaming?" Gwen materialised the serpent's scale in her hand. She had stowed it in her ring after the incident. She couldn't just dispose of it, after all, this was three months of Opa's work, even if it did bring on something that had overwhelmed her ego briefly. Again Almudj, her mind was a gum leaf caught within a whirlpool, bore away into the vast psyche of a being far older than herself. "Missus Boss," Tommy intoned with the utmost respect, his eyes bulging from their sockets and his dark face several shades redder. He licked his cracked lips respectfully, taking in the moment as best as he could, burning it into his memory. "Would you like Tommy to lend you a shirt? I know it's hot, but you butt naked, your migloo skin def get burnt come sunrise." Gwen spun and ran a distance before materialising a pair of shirt and shorts, slipping into them with haste, heedless of her grimy body paint. She returned with a face smeared with faint hues and rubbings, her white shirt a technicolour of earth. "I saw… Kalinda? Someone— was called Old Tjupurrula? They were in a cavern. I think Tjupurrula was tired. He was resting outside. Kalinda went into the cavern. There was a pool, Almudj came, then there was an explosion. Mages came, they collapsed the cavern, then Almudj was angry as Kalinda died…" Gwen blurted out the entire ordeal without pausing for breath. She too wanted to know what the hell just happened. Old Goolagong didn't seem to have the answers she was looking for; she was instead as cryptic and mythical as ever. "Almudj will attack strangers," she replied. "It knows a usurper when it sees one." Goolagong turned to regard Debora. "Oi, fuck off with your Necromancy," Debora snapped back. The girls sensed earthen mana channelling through her as the sand around them began to swirl. "This old bitch is trying to blame it on me now, Gwen, she's trying to blame her dodgy magic on you. I told you they couldn't be trusted." Gwen placed herself between Debora and Goolagong. "Debbie, calm down, please." "No, this has gone on long enough. I am sick and tired of this bullshit. If you want me to leave this old witch alone, promise me we're leaving right now. We're going back to civilisation and leaving these savages to their own miserable fucking lives." "Alright, Debs," Gwen promised with a sigh. "We're leaving." Gwen bowed. "I am sorry, Goolagong, I don't blame you. Please forgive us for ruining your encampment and disrupting the corroboree." Old Goolagong glared at Debora but spoke instead to Tommy. "Tommy, take care of the guests, take them home," she commanded, turning to Gwen. "Thank you, Gwen, who sings of Almudj, remember that Almudj is your friend, it is kin, not enemy." Goolagong had stressed her final word. Debora looked as though she was about to launch a catapult spell towards the old Spirit Speaker. They watched Old Goolagong disappear over the hill. "Good riddance," Debora spat distastefully. Tommy said nothing. Gwen didn't blame the young man. It was how Mages treated NoMs, not to mention people from the Wildlands. "This way Missus Mages, we need plenty of lights for night travelling. We make for highway, maybe get picked up from there, faster." "Alright, Tommy." Gwen touched her face, feeling the caked dirt in the fine sediment of the red earth. "Let's go home." She still had the New Years party to deal with, the monster that was her mother to be slain. Her mare gave its harness bells a shake, for there were many miles to go.

The journey at night proved as troublesome as the girls had anticipated, having to fight off Dingos, Wargs, and even a Giant Wombat on the prowl. Though the girls were in no danger, Debora tearing a scamp limb from limb and Yue reducing fauna to chunks of smouldering meat proved too much for the horses. In the end, the girls resigned to set camp and wait out the night, only now bereft of tents and sleeping bags thanks to Gwen's bolt of emerald lightning. Debora again came to the rescue, using her Minor Stone Shape to create clay shelters, going as far as to fabricate a bathroom and a showering area. Tommy took up guard duty as the girls showered, cleaning off the grime and dust soiling their clothes. Gwen used her Conjuration to summon water for the girls while they showered under the makeshift shelter. "Don't feel bad for what happened, Gwen," Elvia comforted Gwen from within the stall. "I am sure it was out of your control, something to do with the Spirit of the serpent or the strange ritual. Besides, Debora's safe. We can all put this behind us when we get back to the city." Gwen handed her a towel, the tiny blonde girl wiped herself down carefully, though the act itself attracted the everpresent red dust. Yue was next; she didn't seem too affected by Debora's near-death encounter. Instead, she seemed more annoyed with Debora's display of vitriol more than anything else. "Gwen, I know you think you owe Debs or something, but that's bullshit, alright?" she harshly whispered as Gwen kept up the reservoir. "Seriously, I don't mind her on the team, but if she's going to disrupt our teamwork, she should fuck off. That migloo is not a good fit." Gwen said nothing as while Yue hung a towel around her neck and walked out of the stall brazen as anything, making Tommy pine for the bush. "What did Yue say to you?" winsomely, Debora inquired when it was her turn, lathering her honeyed-skin while Gwen stood one wall away. "Nothing in particular," Gwen lied. "Hey, I don't blame you for that accident. It's the fault of those savages." "Please, Deb, that was me. I was the one who contacted the Spirit." "Bullshit. When did any of our magic ever screw up like that? Our spells always worked as intended, no chaos, no stupid possessions, no random effects. I am sure of it, Gwen, don't blame yourself." Gwen averted her eyes when Debora stepped from the cover of the stall, soapy as anything. "Join me? You can summon the water from in here too." Gwen shook her head ."Sorry Debs, not now." Debora shrugged, She returned to the shower and washed herself off. When she finished, she likewise slung the towel around her neck, facing Gwen with a full-frontal silhouette, she called her name. "Gwen, come here." "Wha—" Gwen met Debora over the barrier. With a swift motion, Debora leaned in and kissed her full on the lips. "Debs!" Gwen snapped back. "No! I am still dirty!" "I don't mind." Debora pressed in. "Dirty is good." "Debora Jones. No." Gwen shifted the timbre of her voice. "NO." Debora shifted sulkily, her face a mask of displeasure, her brows furrowed in frustration. "Why not?" the girl asked, her voice full of hurt. Gwen wondered if she should just tell it to Debora straight rather than waiting for her to acknowledge the truth. The girl was getting far too aggressive. She took a deep breath— but was interrupted by an interjection from Debora. "You know what. I don't want to know." Debora waved a hand at Gwen, moving away still half-naked. "Good night." Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. She entered into the now muddy shower stall and tested its integrity. In the reservoir, she conjured a stream of water into the indent in the ceiling, watching it flow into the tin bucket. Of all the girls, Gwen was the one with the direst need of a pleasant drizzle. She began by washing away the paint and grime, feeling the dissolution of the pigments under the strain of flowing water. They pooled at her feet with a rainbow hue, each dye distinct enough in density and particle to remain platonic even in an ankle-deep puddle. The cold water felt good, even at night, the Outback was hot and sweltering. Slowly, she collected her thoughts fell into the momentary zen of shower thoughts. Her hand moved toward the back of her skull, where the absence of the scale still stung. Without it, she felt incomplete. With a flicker of her finger, she materialised the item in question. In her hand, the scale shimmered alluringly with a scintillating reflection, scattering the moonlight. "Kin," Almudj had told her. "Almudj is kin, not enemy," Old Goolagong had said. Gwen pulled back her hair and envisioned the scale once again attached to her neck, an extension of her own body. Warmly, Almudj's gift kissed her skin. Instantly she sensed a feeling of affection, a wordless joy. She felt connected to something bigger, older, something benevolent and motherly all at once. "Kin." Gwen cupped the last of the water and offered it to the night, letting it run through her fingers, watching it displace over the red earth. The Conjure Water spell dispelled while Gwen was distracted by her thoughts. The cessation of the flowing stream disturbing the lull of her midsummer dream. Without words, Gwen stood in the stall, dripping with droplets that caught the moonlight, painting her silver. She ran a hand between the modest swell of her white breasts, feeling the pronunciation of the ribs that jutted out underneath them. Her hip bones too were protrusive to the touch. Despite the undeniable toll of her Void Magic; she felt revitalised. Was her renewed vigour a gift from Almudj? Gwen had no doubt it was. The evocative feeling of kinship was undeniable. Gwen towelled herself off and slipped into another pair of clean shorts and singlets. She walked barefooted towards the girls, finding a space between Debora and the others. Debora had nothing to say to Yue. Yue likewise, was too stubborn to make good with Debora. Elvia sold herself as Switzerland but decidedly favoured Team Yue when a conflict ensued. "Can we talk?" Gwen asked them. The girls murmured their agreements. As a gesture of goodwill, Debora materialised stone benches for them by moulding the smooth sandstone beneath the soil. Gwen produced bottles of refrigerated beverages, still half-frozen, from her Storage Ring. She passed them out amongst the girls. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "You all mean a lot to me." Gwen began, her eyes scanning over the girls one by one. "But senior school, we are going to go our separate ways. These next six months that we share are potentially going to become some of our best memories." "We have the Inter-High competition before us. A competition that as you know, is supremely important to me. It is also important for you guys in that it would determine your university offers. Your career tracks. For us, if we can demonstrate our skill and talents, it would serve as a far stronger application than any result we can produce at the final Government accreditation exams." "So— I ask you guys, as your friend and as your teammate, to please put your differences aside." The delivery was more for Debora's benefit than Yue's or Elvia'. Yue had her apprenticeship with Alesia, and Elvia had Medical school. The girls murmured their agreements. "Pretty please?" Gwen put her hands together and made a begging motion like a praying monk. "For my sake, for all our sakes." "I'll do it!" Elvia extended a hand toward Yue and Debora. Yue took Elvia's hand. "Sorry Debs, let's work well from now on." Debora too extended her hand, and the three of them exchanged awkward handshakes. "Likewise, I am sorry for my outbursts. I'll try my best from now on," Debora replied, her eyes glancing at Gwen. "Thanks, everyone," Gwen intoned appreciatively. "There's still three hours until sunrise, who's keeping watch?" Yue asked. "I'll do it. You guys get some shut-eye. I am wide awake right now." Gwen offered herself. Debora shaped some more shelter, within which the girls slept on their towels. Tommy was already asleep, sprawled out against a tree in-between urine scented grass marked by the horses. The mental pressure of resisting a peek as four Lady Bosses strutted about in various states of undress was too much for his hot-blooded mind to bear. Gwen turned to the silhouetted horizon and meditated. Her consciousness turned inwards, examining her astral body, observing her collection of Sigils. Evocation glowed the brightest. Conjuration a close second. Then Divination. Transmutation. Her Abjuration Sigil was still dim, but there was a noticeable difference since she started to use Shield regularly. The gate of her Void element shimmered darkly. Her gate of Lightning blazed and crackled, only it was brighter somehow, more vivified. Curious, she channelled her Lightning mana. Once its power struck her conduits, she was in no double that her Affinity had increased. Caliban! Instinctively, she knew her Void fiend was the culprit. The void creature had consumed the vital energy of two Wankas. Both beasts had been heavily enchanted, their cores overflowing with elemental Air— and AIR was one of two Prime Elements that made up Lightning. Does this mean that she could level up her Affinity for Lightning by consuming Air Elementals? Gwen wondered. Would she need to find an equivalent source of nourishment in those with the Positive Energy trait? That would be impossible. If she consumed benevolent Lantern Archons, the Church and the Tower would put a sizable bounty on her head. Still, if her hypothesis was correct, did it mean that she could also come into possession of other elements? With a little reflection, Gwen realised the answer was no. She was confident that she felt nothing when Caliban consumed the Land Shark. It was already a miracle that she could tap into two. Her Master had a unique talent of tapping into all four Primary elements, but Henry was one in a million. If asked to create spells of pure water or fire, Henry would struggle to perform his channelling with a practical level of efficiency. Thus far, she had never heard of anyone possessing two Elements. Then there was that emerald lightning that Almudj used as well. It was unlike anything she had cast herself. How could she tap into that hidden power? Gwen thought about the three months ahead. She would have to make a decision very soon. To train in Abjuration would mean she had a viable shield. She could protect Elvia and or Yue, act as their Tank. To train in Divination meant she had better awareness of the battlefield, maybe even Scry on enemies from afar. To train in Transmutation meant she could focus on self-buffs, eventuating in Flight at tier three. She could also empower her Evocation spells, try to hit tier 4 and gain access to more destructive incantations. Finally, she could perfect Conjuration, develop new attacks for Ariel and Caliban, or focus on fortifying her persistent effect spells. The dilemma was that she only had time for one of these things, and she had to maximise her time investment. For the duration of her watch, Gwen pondered her options, playing scenario after scenario over in her mind. Then, without warning, the indefinite horizon became a thin white line. A red-gold disc rose, dispelling the lustrous purple blackness of the softening night. The silver glow of the moon warmed, waning in intensity, replaced by a honey-coloured diffusion that soothed the distant horizon. The limestone ridges kissed the shining tree-tops, setting fire to the once dark bush. Even as a frequent traveller of the Outback, she felt shaken by the majesty, caught in the glory of the wide, brown land. "Thanks, Alumdj." Her words flew into the wide blue yonder. The girls were soon roused and readied for the journey ahead. Gwen used her long-range Message device to contact Rhodes, and the ranch-owner arranged transport for the girls back to Surya's estate. The rest of the journey took half-a-day to reach the highway and another six hours from the shield-gate. It was late afternoon when they arrived at Rhodes's ranch. Upon their parting with Tommy, Gwen collected in a small pouch a good handful of LDM crystals worth a thousand or so dollars for the jackaroo. He tried to decline the offer, but Gwen wouldn't have it. "You deserve it, Tommy," Gwen said sympathetically, hugging the jackaroo. "You did so much for us, and all we did was sour your relationship with your folks and put you in danger. More than anything, I should be apologising to you and asking for your forgiveness." "You are too good, Missus Boss," Tommy replied, his voice cracked from gratitude. "Come back and visit anytime, you know where Tommy is." "I will Tommy, take care of the horses!" Gwen gave Tommy a peck on the cheek, watching him return to the other drovers on the ranch and smiling as they punched him. Rhodes then took the girls home, asking them about the trip. The girls had nothing but praises for Tommy. "Yeah right, I reckon he was just scared shitless the whole time." Rhodes was more than pleased. "I'll let the boy know he'll be getting a raise, courtesy of you being his referee." Rhodes stopped for a chat with Surya before he left. The girls made their curtsies known to the old Enchanter and rushed for the showers, far too fatigued to remain for small talk. Gwen however, stayed with her grandfather, sharing her knowledge of the event. "Good grief." Surya swallowed uncertainly. "Turn around." Gwen turned, collecting her hair in one hand. Surya placed a finger on to the scale affixed to her skin and incanted a command for the item to loosen itself. It refused to budge. He pulled at it with his fingers, watching it tug at Gwen's skin. Gwen cried out when the discomfort became unbearable. "That's interesting." Surya scratched his beard. "I feel like the scale has fused with a part of your skin. I could remove it by force, but, it doesn't seem harmful in any way. I've only seen this in Legacy items." Gwen begged Surya for more details. "It's like this," Surya explained. "Very rarely, an item has been in the family bloodline, or passed down from generation to generation, or survived such cataclysmic magical ordeals, that they gain a special kind of bond with its users. The Japanese Mages had a specific term for them, which they call Tsukumogami, applicable to tools or enchanted heirlooms." "The effects differ, of course, but a common fact is that these items become more powerful as the user grows more powerful. They possess the ability to imbue boosted effects onto future generations of users." "Does this mean the scale will grow more powerful as I attain higher tiers of magic?" Gwen moved forward to the edge of her seat, her risen octave betraying her anticipation. "I don't see why not." Surya smiled, tapping the scale gently. When her Opa touched the scale again, Gwen moaned, feeling as though someone had poked her insides. "Oh dear—" Gwen moved a little distance away. "Thanks, Opa." "And your story." Surya scratched his white beard. "I wonder why the serpent attacked your friend Debora but no one else." Gwen raised a few points of hypothesis— One, Debora was from an old family of staunch Christians. There was such a thing as Faith Magic, and Debora did get Blessed by the Bishop. Two, Debora was the only one of them in possession of an elemental spirit. Three, Debora was somewhat hostile to the Indigenous folk they had met the entire way, barring Tommy, with whom she was already acquainted. Surya shook his head. None of these theories satisfied what Gwen had described. "Maybe it was just a coincidence?" Surya suggested, shrugging his bony shoulders. "I'd hardly imagine that a primordial spirit would care for a high school girl. Well, besides yourself. What was it like to channel its power?" "It was like energy was building up from the ambient mana of the earth and sky," Gwen described. "It didn't feel like a spell." Surya didn't have an answer to that either. So much knowledge about the Spirit Magic of the local tribes was censored, destroyed, their Walkers castigated by witch hunters and then butchered. He doubted that even the indigenous folk themselves had an answer for Gwen's circumstance. "Just concentrate on the road ahead," Surya advised, his voice mellow. "Sometimes, all a man can do is wait and see." "I know, Opa. Thanks." Gwen bid Surya goodnight, planting a wet sloppy kiss on her Opa's forehead. "I'll be gone first thing tomorrow morning. I'll see you at Kwan's estate in the avo or at night. Get some rest. It's going to be a busy day ahead. Remember to dress nicely! We're expecting guests!" When Gwen finally arrived at her room, the other girls were already asleep. She took another shower, a hot one this time, and felt the tension just melt from her weary bones. She didn't possess the same constitution as the others, and the horse riding had taken its toll. Towelling off, she fell into bed and was instantly asleep after forty-eight hours of wakefulness.

The girls bid one another goodbye the next day. Despite their reunion at Blackwattle within the week, tears were shed, and hugs dispensed. Gwen blamed it on the adolescent hormones. The girls were at an age where every emotion seemed magnified, every separation, no matter how brief, seemed touched by tragedy. Surya left with Gwen's girls, grinning sheepishly. Tess and Melissa had their duties for the day, so Gwen had until noon to get ready and embark on the five-hour journey to reach Kwan's Kirribilli manor. On the guest bed, she laid out her wardrobe on the bed. It was going to be a night of consequences. She wasn't just dressing to be beguiling; she was selecting a battle garb. What she needed was something vibrant, powerful - something that suggested willful independence. Mentally, she fancied the green curtain-gown Scarlet O'Hara had worn in Gone with the Wind. When Gwen had watched the scene in technicolour 4k, it had sent shivers down her spine. Unfortunately, she had to make do with branded dresses her dreaded 'other' mother had bought her. Chronologically, she laid out the loot from her junior years to her senior year. The collection was akin to an anthropological study of Helena's head, measured by the hem of her skirts and their narrowing waistlines. In both worlds, she was one of those girls who had hit puberty early, long before her mind was capable of comprehending the alchemical changes taking place. When the other girls were still mewling, adorable children, she had sprouted to five-feet like a new yew. When her friends reached their growth spurt, she was a six-foot crane amongst clucking hens. She wanted something that showed off her post-Almudj figure — not something sexual, but something elegant and aristocratic, arrogant even. Her eyes flowed over the selection, landing upon a porcelain white one-piece inlaid with lapis-blue china. She tried it on, doubting the dress could fit. To Gwen's surprise, it did; her unfortunate, Caliban-induced anorexia allowed the tapered waistline flawlessly. The hem was precariously short, but Gwen was prepared for that too. She'd earlier purchased a comfortable pair of white spats which would serve as safety, cropped high enough on her thighs to give the illusion that she was wearing nought but the dress itself. Pair with a pair of pumps, she inspected herself. With an additional fifteen or so centimetres from the pump, she was a veritable Brobdingnagian. To practice, she stalked through the compound to the stunned expression of NoM labourer. In Tess' bathroom, Gwen piled her hair this way and that, finally settling on a sweeping fringe framing her face. An application of eyeliners mascara finished the look. In the reflection, she appeared terrifyingly vivacious. By the time Gwen had stowed her wardrobe back into the Storage Ring, Mel had returned to take Gwen to the station. "Woa!" Mel covered her face dramatically. "That's your regalia, huh? Let me get a pic." She returned a moment later with a Lumen-recorder and snapped images of Gwen standing beside the water feature. "I could sell these for crystals, you know." Tess grinned. "Get em blown up and printed, put em in a magazine. What say we go halfsies?" "You're too much!" Gwen quipped, happy to be flattered. "Well, let's get going. Surya is going to be a happy man." They drove to the station, where Gwen caught the midday service out to the city. As the carriage filled, the passengers were surprised to find themselves in the presence of silver screen actress. From central, the Taxi driver stole glances at her, almost causing an accident. At Kwan's, the late afternoon sky remained a blazing ultramarine, the waters of Bateman's Bay a translucent teal. Against the bay, Gwen extended her legs perpendicular to the cab, her heels tapping the concrete. Instantly, a guard wearing a white shirt and dark tie attended her arrival. "Ms Song." the man bowed. "The family is within. Please follow me." Gwen told him to tip the driver for his service and the guard obliged, throwing a fifty into the cabbie's window. They were halfway up the stairs leading to the elevated foyer when Gwen heard the familiar voice of Richard coming down the stairs. "Gwen! My word, you look a million HDMs! I had been dreaming up compliments, but you've wiped them from my mind." The young man's eyes were smiling. Gwen left the guard for Richard, moving across the marble tiles with a tap of her needlepoint heels, drawing heads from all across the compound. In the flood-lit corridor, Gwen appeared larger than life. The cousins embraced; Gwen giving Richard a peck on the cheek. "Now that you're taller than me. I feel small and emasculated," Richard confessed, returning a peck on her cheek. "Can you not walk too close? I feel both intimated and questionably aroused." Gwen laughed and punched Richard in the arm, "You brute!" Richard remarked, sliding an arm around her to cup her waist. "Come, let me take you in. How high are those heels? I'll have to get the Transmuters to add another inch to my shoes." The manor was exactly as Gwen had left it the last time. Opulent and tasteless. It spoke loudly of how much money the inhabitants possessed and little of anything else. She clicked-clacked her way through the foyer and into the open living room. "Gwen! My beautiful niece!" A voice that could only belong to Uncle Kwan echoed across the vaulted ceiling. Unlike last time, Gwen was now prepared. This time, she had support. This time, she had a plan. "Uncle!" Gwen left Richard and embraced Kwan. This time, the bulbous man appeared diminished by Gwen's implausibly long-legged figure. "Have you gained weight?" Kwan lifted her, then allowed her to land. "No more than you, Uncle." It took a second for Kwan's ire to catch up. Gwen knew the man was conscious of his weight and hated having it mentioned. "Come see your aunty!" Kwan deflected, his tone no longer amused, leading Gwen towards Tali. "Did you have to say that, dear?" Tali met her a critical eye. "Has our baby bird has become a peacock?" "Eagle," Gwen corrected her, a smile upon her lips. "Sea eagle, preferably." Tali measured her with a sideways glance. "You look, lovely dear." She swallowed a little bitterly. "Too lovely in fact, who'd known the little girl who'd cry because she couldn't fit into her mummy's new present would be so stunning now?" "The dress I couldn't fit into?" Gwen spun, sensing the hem flutter and the conversation around them quieten. "This is that dress. It fits just fine now, thanks for asking." Tali chose to change the subject. "Dinner's a buffet, just help yourself to whatever." The woman paused. "Your mother's going to be here with her new husband and your brother. For Surya's big speech." "Good for them." Gwen controlled the tone of her voice. "I am starving already, guess I'll help myself." Her Aunt Tali retreated. Richard rejoined her. "I want to say nicely done, but that would make me a terrible son, so nicely done." He offered her a flute of bubbling champaign. "You're a great son." Gwen took the glass and clinked Richard's own. "Who could honestly say that they are a better son than you?" This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Oh, I won't be here for much longer, a few years at most. Prince's had my military training deferred, but I'd probably do it anyway once I get to London." Gwen raised an exquisite brow. "You're going to a Tier 1 city?" "Orders from above, from London, I mean. I was the dux of the School of Conjuration. It got me a one-way ticket to the real world." "That's amazing, Richard, congratulations. I am happy for you." Gwen squeezed his arm. "Which makes me a terrible son see, cause I can't take the old parents with me, not until I become a Magus or rack up enough Contribution Credits to open up a migration application." "I know some of those words," Gwen admitted. Tier 1 cities, the whole ordeal was like another world that was currently beyond her. "Nonsense, I bet you'll be moved to a Tier 1 city in no time. Which city do you fancy?" Gwen considered it. She always dreamed of going to England, but there was also Southern China, where her father's family supposedly originated. London was the seat of Old Magic, but the Shanghai of the 00s provided incredible economic opportunities. If Gwen wanted to use her talents from the old world, that was where she needed to be. "Shanghai, London maybe New York?" Gwen stated, unsure of her choices. "I would love it if my friends could come too." "Yue, probably. Elvia, not so much. I believe there was a Debora too, no? That girl could only dream of your potential." "Not Elvia?!" Gwen looked shocked. "Decent healers are a dime a dozen in the capital cities. Elvia is a cutie, but unfortunately, nothing too special in the real world. She doesn't even have a Spirit." Gwen was not happy to hear that. She wasn't happy at all. "Fear not, just get her imported over once you make Magus, rack up some CCs and you're good to go. Hell, you can keep her as your pet if you honestly felt like it." "I am not thrilled to hear that, Richard." "Sorry, I'll shut up now. You know how it is. I get excited." Richard took a sip. "How about we get some food, meet some people?" "Sure." Gwen took a deep breath and controlled the sense of unease rising from her chest. At the buffet, they met with familiar faces. "Ah, Patrick and… Derek, how lovely to see you." Patrick spun and clicked his heels. The young man looked different. He had just started his military service, and it seemed to buff him up, make a man out of him. "Ms Song. The greatest pleasure. You do look lovely." Gwen allowed Patrick to mime kissing her hand. She didn't curtsey but instead shook his hand afterwards, feeling the sweat in his clammy palms. Beside her, Derek's eyes had almost fallen out of his sockets. They were staring intently at Gwen's long, white legs. His face gave the expression of someone struggling to look away and failing. "Derek, Gwen is speaking to you. Don't be droll," Richard reprimanded, sounding like a dog had just shat on his front lawn. "Sorry, Richard." Derek's gaze returned to eye level. "Hi, I am Derek." "I know— it's good to see you again, Derek." Gwen shook his hand as well, watching the man's face burn a salmon pink. With the height afforded by her pumps, she towered over Derek and Patrick. "To your health." Richard tipped his glass towards them. The four of them clinked flutes. Derek mumbled an alibi and quickly excused himself, retreating somewhere with fewer eyes to brood over the unpleasant encounter. Patrick stayed on. This time, he was making a good impression of himself, making casual small talk about Prince's recent activities and some interesting tidbits of his military training. Thanks to his father's position at Suncorp and effort of his own, he will be conducting his military training in an Arial Mage Wing stationed near Barrington. Other young men and women came and joined them, offering congratulations to Richard to marvel at Gwen's svelte cousin. "How come you're not at Lilith's?" A peppy young woman with a permed blonde bob chirped, covetously measuring Gwen's sculpted face. "I was a late bloomer," Gwen replied jovially. "I came into my awakening late." "Still." The girl looked around conspiratorially. "You're Richard's cousin, and you're beautiful and talented, so how come we've never seen you around?" "Digging a little deep there, Piggy." Richard coughed. "Peggy." the girl puffed out her cheeks. "Petunia Wallace, pleased to meet you, Gwen." "Pleasure." Gwen shook her hand. "You're welcome at Lilith's anytime. I am on the SRC board, so I can show you around the grounds if you like." "I might just take you up on that offer someday soon, Petunia." Gwen flashed a winsome smile, watching her face light up with pleasure. Smalltalk followed. The girls hit it off nicely and exchanged details on their Message Devices. Halfway, Gwen noticed a perceptible dimming of the hall's conversation volume. Even Petunia stopped speaking when Gwen paused to stare at the entrance of the foyer. Her mother had arrived. At the entrance to the rear deck stood Helena Huang, the daughter of the House of Huang. It was the first time that Gwen had seen her in the company of her new husband— an older man, tall and mature and old fashioned. There was Percy too, next to them, cringingly dressed in an ivory tuxedo. Percy looked taller by at least an inch since Gwen last saw him half a year ago. She wanted to go and greet him immediately but refrained when her mother's eyes held her in place. The last time they had met was at the Principal's office, and she had fried her mother with a Shocking Grasp. Gwen's jaws clenched. Through force of will, she made her body relax, assuring herself that the night was long and Surya would soon be out to put an end to the matter. But her mother did not approach. For the next hour, Helena did not even look her way. Gwen felt butterflies. She fought down a bout of anxiety, annoyed at the immediate delay of her confrontation. Her mother's cult of personality was powerful, and she still wasn't immune. Gwen watched her mother kissing Kwan and Tali and then Richard. She watched her mother kiss an endless number of people, most of whom she did not know. "There's your daughter," Richard declared much too loudly for polite conversation. "Right over there, look. Lets me point her out to you. Hi Gwen!" Gwen waved back. Helena's facade was one of annoyance. A chortle escaped Gwen's nose. She had to turn and hide her mirth when Richard made a face. Kwan shot Richard a warning. Aunt Tali didn't care, in her eyes, Richard was her faultless first-born. He could burn the house down, and she would love him unconditionally. "So that's my step-daughter, the infamous Gwen Song." A deep and resonate voice rang out. Gwen's step-father appeared to be a man accustomed to having orders followed. Having saved his wife from awkwardness, Helena's husband made his way across the floor toward Gwen. The man was impressive, Gwen had to admit. He was a Clint-Eastwood type of bloke, broad in the shoulder, well-muscled for his age. She recalled that Morye once complained loudly and sulkily that her new step-father was a retired Colonel and an Earthen Enchanter. Presently, the man worked for Sydney's Frontier Militia as a consultant. Helena had met him at another one of Kwan's parties. Gwen found it remarkable that even with her statuesque attire, the man still stared down at her. But it made sense. Her mother was only a little shorter than herself. One of Helena's favourite gripes was that, when she had been married to Morye, she had been too embarrassed to overshadow her meter-seventy husband. "Tang Hu, but you can call me Mr Hu." Tang paused for effect, "Or Father, if you prefer." When she registered "Father" coming from the man's lips, Gwen almost spat her juice in Tang's face. Tang looked displeased, his stoic face contorted with scrutiny. He measured her with his eyes and shook his head. "Helena told me you were out of control, a wild child. Just look at what you're wearing. You're still a young girl, Gwen, act like one." Gwen wanted to throw the glass of sparkling juice in his face. This dress was bought and gifted by Helena! She had mocked her when she couldn't fit into it! Knowing or otherwise, the hypocrisy was astounding. Not only was this Tang taking possession of her; he was also sanctimonious! She had to deal with men like Tang before in McKinsey, men with big-dick, cock and bull attitudes. She knew how to deal with men like that. You had to castrate them from the get-go. "Oh, I would love to have a strong hand to guide me, sure." Gwen lowered her eyes demurely, seemingly taken aback. "I've been living by myself, after all, no discipline, no rules, doing whatever I wanted. Sometimes, I feel so lost." Her passivity seemed to have tickled Tang's expectations. He was a simple man when it came to it. There was little wonder Helena had him tied around her finger, playing him like a fiddle. "Mr Hu, I mean Tang, I heard that you are a remarkably powerful Enchanter, is that true?" "Indeed," Tang replied confidently. "I am tier 5 myself, tier 4 Abjuration as my supplementary, I am an armourer by trade." "Oh." Gwen made an expression of disappointment. "Just tier 5?" Tang furrowed his brows with vexation. "My Opa, he's kind enough to take me in at the moment, you know, I hope mother had told you. He's a tier 7 Enchanter, Tier 6 Transmuter, Fire specialisation. He only takes commissions from the Tower though, so I am sure he's not that famous." Tang's face darkened. "I have the utmost respect for Master Huang." He intoned flatly. "Then he would be rather upset if you wanted to be my father. A step-father who is only mid-tier. I mean, what would be the benefit?" A silken silence engendered. Somewhere, someone snickered. "You should watch your attitude, young lady." Tang was not used to back-talk, Gwen could see that. He was unused to someone who threw shade, much less, in his eyes, from a wee of a teenage girl. Why look at her, he could snap her in half with his bare hands. But Gwen also knew that Tang wasn't her enemy. He was being used by her mother, just as she had been. "Yes, you're right, Mr Hu. I am afraid we started on the wrong foot. My mother has that effect." Gwen extended a hand. "It's nice to meet you." The sudden change seemed to catch Tang off guard. He shook Gwen's hand, noting the firmness of her shake, the way her delicate fingers fitted into his calloused palm with confidence. "Nice to meet you, Gwen." Tang packed away his attitude. "No need, I am to blame entirely." Gwen leaned in and touched his forearm, flashing him a winning grin. "You learn to grow up fast when you live alone." "You're a strange young woman." "All women are strange, Mr Hu." Inwardly, Gwen breathed out. She had embarrassed people like Tang before, in public where they would lose their temper and make a fool of themselves. Tang deserved better. She observed her mother, who had been watching grimly from the living room. When Tang parted, her mother's face lost some of its lustre. Helena stilled possessed no desire to speak to Gwen. Likely, Gwen suspected, her mother was waiting to see what Surya had to say. "HELLO! HELLO! Everyone!" The crowd's attention turned towards the second floor. Surya stood against the bannister rail, surveying his domain like an old king. As regal as the old Mage looked, Gwen secretly knew the truth - Surya probably had just finished his later afternoon nap after a too hearty meal. The Huang family lifted their chins to regard their progenitor, each with expressions mixed with awe, wonder, paranoia and contempt. Surya Huang, Patriarch, Magus, Master Enchanter-Fabricator of the Tower Oceania, now addressed the crowd.

Surya coughed and cleared his throat. "Friends, thank you for coming tonight. I hope that you have all enjoyed yourselves. I know that in recent years, I have been somewhat reclusive, an old hermit hiding in my workshop, so before we begin. Let me apologise for my irresponsible absence." Scattered applause answered Surya's self-depreciative jest. Many of the guests were indeed interested in why the old Enchanter had emerged from his self-imposed exile half a decade ago. "For the young among you who are wondering who this old, talking scarecrow could be, I am the Master of the Huang Clan, its Patriarch, Surya." He turned his face to find his children within the crowd. "Kwan, Helena, come to me." Gwen watched her uncle and her mother walk from the crowd and stand underneath Surya, who lorded over them via the second-floor foyer that overlooked the open living room and afforded a magnificent view of the ocean. "My children, the fruit of my loins." "Father." Kwan bowed respectfully. "Dad." Helena curtsied, the side-slit of her dress splitting distractingly, drawing eyes from around the room. Surya nodded. Of the two, it was Helena whose life he lamented. His daughter's beauty, especially in her youth, had blatantly outshone every other facet of her life. It afforded her such convenience and advantage that it had consumed her. Only now that Helena's comeliness was inevitably waning with each passing year, she grew desperate and scornful. "You have done well for yourselves," Surya continued. "I applaud you for expanding the family fortune and allowing the clan to flourish." The crowd clapped, almost all of them were friends and associates of Kwan. The New Years party had been planned for months, but Kwan had only known about Surya's desire to be present a fortnight ago. That was why he was nervously smiling and golf-clapping along with the crowd. Where was this charade going? Kwan wondered. Why did Surya come out of his reclusive existence as an eccentric artist? "Yet," Surya continued. "Wealth, money, land, crystals, these are all but a means to an end." The crowd fell silent. "Look around you. Forget the canapés, forget the beverage in your hands, forget this mansion, forget the harbour view. Look - LOOK out there and see the reason why anything matters at all." The crowd turned. There was the dark pier, scintillating with lights that refracted off the softly sloshing sea. Beyond the harbour, there was a thin sliver of light upon the horizon - the Shield Barrier. "Survival! That is all!" Surya raised his voice. "That is the only thing that matters. None of this. Not this House, not the wine in your hands, not the expensive clothing on your back, not the money in your pockets— it is only our ability to carry on that matters." The crowd was now confused. Was this suitable for a New Years speech? They certainly didn't come here to listen to sermons. Was Kwan's father senile? "Survival." Surya bit the word with his teeth clenched. "Richard, Gwen, Percy, come." The children gathered behind their parents. Gwen could smell her mother's perfume rolling off her like a tide, triggering unpleasant memories deep within her consciousness. "The next generation, my pride and joy." "Grandfather." Richard bowed - legs slightly apart, his shoulders squared, a vestige of Prince's discipline. "Grandfather." Percy bowed casually, inclining his upper body. "Opa." Gwen curtsied, crossing a slender white leg over the other, arching herself gracefully. Gwen commanded the full attention of the crowd. Tall and majestic, her presence inspired a form of awe. Her natural grace was such that viewers were first overwhelmed, then overcome by a sense of disbelief that something so perfect could exist so close at hand. Looking at the crowd, Surya could read the faces of those below. Appreciation, jealousy, and outright desire, it was plain who was thinking what. "Survival," Surya repeated pointedly. "I am very pleased with my grandchildren. Kids, tell the guests about yourselves." The guests regarded one another. Richard was the clear winner, a Conjurer with unfathomable talent. Percy had yet to awaken, but he was most definitely going to be something special. Gwen was recently exposed as a Lightning Evoker, impressive in itself. Richard stepped up. "I, Richard Huang, have reached Tier 5 in Conjuration. I am currently progressing onto my Tier 1 Abjuration Sigil. My affinity with Water is currently 5." The crowd exploded. "He's almost a Magus!" "At Eighteen, no less!" "Richard, congratulations." "Kwan, you old dog! Your House is on the up and up!" "You're going places lad!" "Congratulations, Master Huang!" Surya settled the crowd. "Percy, how is your progress?" Percy looked at his mother, who nodded conspiratorially. "Grandfather, I am not yet fully awakened to my abilities, but I can inform you that I do possess a unique talent." "Oh?" Surya raised a bushy eyebrow. "Do tell, my grandchild." Percy sucked in his breath, making an expression that resembled someone anticipating a vicious blow. "I have this." Percy opened his hands and channelled mana through his body. His face paled. Percy's fingers grow frosty with ice. The crowd stepped closer. Percy's face paled even further, painfully groaning with each passing second. An older guest picked up a thimble full of the white crystalline material and rubbed it between his fingers. "Salt!" he uttered with a voice several octaves higher than his normal range. "Percy's a Salt Mage?!" Others also took pinches of the stuff as Percy gracelessly panted. The crowd tasted the Salt to test the validity of the man's claim; they crushed it with their fingers, feeling it dissipate as the mana diffused into the air. The resulting uproar was grander than Richard's. The guests instantly piled compliment upon compliment onto Kwan and Helena, toasting the family on their windfall. Percy too received endless praise from people in the room both young and old, envious and genuine, bathing in a moment of triumph. His pale cheeks flushed with a rose-pink of pleasure and vanity. He had been keeping the secret at his mother's behest for months, but it had been all worthwhile. Glancing at her brother, Gwen saw that Percy stole a look at her face. Gwen felt a chill as the implications of Salt flashed through her mind. Percy smirked. According to Gwen's Master, the element of Salt was the union of the Negative Plane and the Plane of Water. It was a versatile element, capable of creating barriers, projectiles, and at higher levels, debilitating desiccation. It was a peerless element against living creatures, especially against water-based beings. What Percy did not know was that his sister's worry wasn't for herself, but him. Even now, she was reeling with dread and horror. SALT was an element that, like her Void spells, fed on the life of the user. Percy was just a boy! How is it possible that a boy going through puberty was burning his vitality to perform a fucking show and tell? Gwen grit her teeth. She wanted to slap her mother across the face. She needed to warn Percy, then hug him to her chest. Gwen looked up at Surya, whose expression was ambivalent. "Sorry, Gwen. It looks like I need you to show off more than your Conjuration," her Opa whispered through a private Message spell. "Show them a potential, but reveal nothing concrete." Gwen nodded at Surya, affirming his advice. The small gesture did not escape Helena's hawk-eyes. Even now, she smirked with pleasure. She just knew the old codger was up to something, and that her son's unique talent had disrupted whatever the hell the old fool had planned. Yet, what could trump her son's unmatched ability? It took Surya several coughs and a resounding slap on the oakwood bannister to finally calm down the crowd. They were now all gathered beside Helena and Kwan, leaving Gwen isolated on the other side of the room. Kwan was less than thrilled that Helena's boy would one day outstrip his own, but Richard had his accomplishments in the present. Richard was going to a tier 1 city. Lord knows when Percy could do the same. The volume finally fell to a murmur. "Finally, we have a member of the family who may be a stranger to many of you. Here, is Gwen Song, my grandchild and Helena's first. Gwen, can you please tell us about your talented self." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Gwen turned to the crowd and gave them a dazzling smile. The crowd was now significantly less impressed with her exterior talents after the last two bouts of pleasant surprises. After all, if Gwen was merely going to say that she was a Lightning Evoker, she was still dead last in a trial of three contenders. "I am a Tier 3 Evoker." The crowd golf-clapped. The expectant crowd was then both confused and puzzled when Gwen began an invocation NOT from the School of Evocation. With relish, Richard recognised her Conjuration School of Magic, grinning as Gwen worked her sorcery. "Ariel!" A bolt of lightning struck the marble floor, materialising into a marten that gazed upon the crowd adorably. "Eee! Eeeee Eee!" With a jolt of mana, Ariel grew into its combat form, becoming the size of a large, electricity-clad mongoose that snarled and spat. The stunned audience felt their eyes bulging in their sockets, their hands covering their mouths in disbelief. "I am also Tier 3 in Conjuration." Gwen snapped her fingers, and a halo of electricity erupted from Ariel. "Tier 4 in Lightning." The crowd had gone silent. Gwen retracted Ariel, and the creature stepped back into the pocket dimension, fading from sight with a crack of localised thunder. "One last thing..." Gwen channelled a little magic to tease the guests' appetite. Gwen extended her hand. A whip of pure plasma erupted from her hand. She flailed it overhead effortlessly, allowing its length to writhe and crackle. "Though it is a work in progress, I have attained some control over the Sigil of Transmutation." "How is that possible?" A shrill voice blurted out. Gwen wasn't too pleased to see that it was Percy, her brother, who had made his doubts known. "It must be an illusion! Grandfather hired an illusionist!" Richard stepped up. "Any decent Mage worth their SALT could tell you that Gwen had just now manifested both Conjuration and Transmutation. Don't make yourself more idiotic than you already are, cousin. If you want to attend Prince's, you need to have class." Percy appeared as though someone had just caught him by the throat and choked him. Besides Percy, Helena's face was turning all kinds of colour, from a blanched white to a dark liver. Richard began to clap. Then Surya clapped. Clap, clap, clap, the sound of applause filled the living room. The guests joined in, first one, then a dozen. Soon all of them were clapping, even Kwan and Tali. Gwen blushed with overwhelming pleasure, her ego becoming well pampered. The family's guests were ecstatic. They were witnessing the rise of a Magister. An existence that numbered under thirty even in a nation as large as Australia. Considering Gwen's age, what if she becomes the Master of a Tower? A being whose policies decided whether they lived in poverty or prosperity, whose decisions dictated who lived and died to the Beast Tide. Besides his cousin, Richard felt such delight. He knew it! Richard couldn't wait for her to graduate so that they could go on some adventures together, test out their powers against forces unknown. With Gwen's versatility, he needed to do was to train his Abjuration Sigil. It would be glorious. They would be the dynamic Conjuring duo! Meeting her cousin's, Gwen flashed Richard a heart-warming smile. Surya banged on the bannisters again. "Alright, alright, settle down. As you can see, the House of Huang is going places." The crowd laughed, earnestly this time. Laughs and hoots and shrill whistling echoed across the vaulted living room. "Now that we are properly informed, here is my officious decision. The reason why I took this opportunity to speak to you." Surya took a deep breath. "As many of you may know, I am an artist first, and an Enchanter second. I have little interest in maintaining our clan. One of the sole reasons why I remain the Patriarch is that the head of a House must be at minimum a Magus of good reputation." "As such, I desire to retire from my role as Patriarch in the coming years, and I wish to confer my estate and my powers onto younger strengths so that I may spend my final decade, or two, doing the things I love." "My decision, therefore, is to choose Gwen—" "NO!" A voice shrieked across the hall, interrupting Surya's speech. It was Helena, Gwen's mother. She was trembling with rage. She could scarcely believe her ears. This had to be a joke! The clan, the estate, all of it was supposed to be Helena's! Tali had told her that Richard had been selected to transfer to London, to finish his education in a tier 1 university. It meant that eventually, Kwan would also leave for London with his wife. It implied that Helena would be the sole heir to the clan, the only one of her generation left in the country. So what that she wasn't a Magus? Who else was there take it from her? Her palms sweated. The House, and Surya's investments, the country estate, all of it should one day be hers. Now the old fool wanted to give it to Gwen? She saw the way he looked at Gwen. Percy? Fine, but not Gwen, not that little vixen! And in that case of what her? What of Percy? Gwen would receive all the resources of the Huangs. After all, the little harlot had three schools to train, and that meant exponential expenditures. She could just see it now, the old codger laughing behind her back, Gwen cackling like a hyena behind Helena's back. "You can't do this!" Helena's hazel eyes flashed with fire and fury. "It's not right! I'll serve you to the courts! I'll challenge you at the Tower! No patriarch can deny their children their rightful inheritance!" Besides his sister, Kwan agreed. Richard as heir? Fine, but how could Gwen come out of nowhere steal their resources? "You dare challenge my decision, Helena?" Surya intoned dangerously. "Perhaps I should disinherit you right now, but that would disqualify Percy. Would you like that?" By now, Percy's face had gone from ashen to deathly. How was he going to compete with a Magister in training? He wasn't even adequately Awakened. When he became a Mage, Gwen would be a Magus. When he became a Magus, Gwen would be a Magister! Looking at his sister, Percy realised the strange bitterness eating at his chest. He gave it a name, and it was jealousy. Unbidden, he wanted to lash out at her, to impale her through the chest with a pillar of crystalline Salt. Richard raised a hand. "I don't want the inheritance anyway. Well done, Gwen." "Richard!" Kwan called out in alarm. "Son!" Tali held a hand to her lips. "It's true." Richard turned to his parents. "I'll build my own legacy in London. It's far better for me that Gwen expends the wealth we have gathered here, then join me overseas. Think of it father, with Gwen and myself in London or Shanghai or New York, how could we fail?" Kwan knew that his son had a fair point. Did he honestly want to contest a future Magister over something as trivial as wealth? If Gwen or Richard were to come into their own, he would have power and influence, connections and business opportunities for days. "Richard, take it back…" Tali was still begging her son. "No," Kwan interrupted his wife. "The boy knows what he is doing." "But…" Tali felt cheated. "Come here." Kwan pulled his wife aside, signally their acceptance of Surya's decision. The crowd's attention shifted back towards Helena, who was still squaring off against Gwen. Her husband, Tang Hu, reached her side to calm her, but the woman was now livid. "I refuse to accept your frivolous judgement!" Helena snarled. "She's a Song! She'll never inherit your name. Richard should be the heir, or we could change Percy's surname, and he could be the heir!" Her hysterics only seemed to make Surya more determined. "Helena, silence. You cannot be the heir because you are useless!" Surya shouted the insult, striking his daughter like a blow. "You cannot survive what will come for us all! We are NOT safe in our enclaves, there're monsters out there, you dimwit! Only the best of us will survive!" "You're insane!" Helena screamed back at Surya. "You're senile! The Coral Sea War is over! We've had peace for two decades! We're not in the Eighties, old man! We live in new worlds!" Surya's brown skin grew purple with rage. "Opa!" Gwen's voice called out, her voice soft and mellow and full of care, a juxtaposition of her mother's dagger-sharp notes. "Please don't be so mad, you're getting much too excited." "You!" Helena turned to her daughter. She broke free from her husband and advanced on Gwen, striding towards her like an Arabian dervish, a storm of emotions fulminating fury. Gwen's heart rose to her throat. She fought down the bile threatening to spill from her oesophagus and faced her mother, channelling a calming flow of electric mana to give her eyes that distinct quality which had made her felt intimidating and in command. Her mother stopped an inch from Gwen. She was about to slap her daughter, but then realised she would be striking a future Magister. Suddenly paralysed with indecision, Gwen's mother waited for her husband to reach her side and restrain her. She would use another approach. "How could you!" Tears the size of marble gushed from Helena's eyes as though she was the one who was the Conjurer. "I gave you so much, Gwen! I gave you everything! I bought you the clothes on your back! I gave you that dress you're wearing right now!" The sudden change caught Gwen off balance. She'd been anticipating a fiery slap across the face. Now she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her mother was much too talented an actress for her good. Even in a situation like this, she wanted to guilt-trip her? Did she think Surya had just given an eleventh-hour speech on survival because of PTSD and dementia? It was like her mother lived in another reality. Tang's face was red too, touched by his wife's outpouring of emotion. His eyes begged Gwen to give them a reprieve, anything that will stop the pain of this public disgrace. Unfortunately, Gwen could no longer afford that generosity. She wasn't about to ruin her Opa's great plan by being soft and compassionate toward a woman she knew to be a snake in the grass, a Snake-kin wearing human skin. "I'll be sure to pay you back ten-fold, I promise. You'll have more ill-fitting dresses than you know what to do with," Gwen replied earnestly. "I'll still take care of you, mother. Like you said to me, you may not be worth much, but you won't starve to death." "You!" Helena collapsed into broken sobs, a wailing woman overcome with grief. The crowd murmured, their faces red from second-hand embarrassment. Gwen grit her teeth. Surya looked as though he was thinking of striking this daughter down here and now. "Enough!" a voice called out above them. The crowd had thought the utterance came from Surya, but Gwen knew that it had not. She knew that voice too well, too personally. Beside Surya, there was now another gentlemen, older looking, in a tweed jacket and a dark blue vest. Sufina the dryad leapt gracefully from the second-storey railing. It landed amidst the crowd, enveloping them with shivering, fallen leaves of autumn as her colour changed from crimson and ochre to a vivid, vibrant emerald. The gathered were amazed by the sight of a Demi-human woman with a dress of leaves and flowers who embraced Gwen, instantly smothering her with a dozen kisses. "Oh! I missed you so much!" Sufina rubbed her cheeks against Gwen, quivering with unadulterated joy. "That energy! Your vitality is stronger than before! Oh, I adore it." "I can't believe you made me wait in that room for a whole thirty minutes," the second speaker said to Surya. "I could have used a cuppa and a cucumber sandwich." "Sorry, things got a little out of hand," Surya apologised. He continued complaining in muted tones. "Who'd think my bloodlines have Water, Salt, lightning and void. What the hell is wrong with my bloodline? Am I old Prussian aristocracy?" The second speaker patted his friend on the shoulder, then approached the railing. "You all know who I am," he stated as a matter of fact. "I come to serve as the arbitrator for Master Huang, as a personal favour." The crowd knew who had addressed them, quivering with dizzying excitement. A Magister. A fabled War Hero. A Sovereign within these lands. He was Henry Kilroy, Magister and Master of the Ordo Arcanum Oceania, head of the Council of Ten. "After consultation with the patriarch of this house, I concur that Surya's decree as Patriarch is sacrosanct, I have thus taken the liberty to verified, then entered his request into the Tower's records." "Furthermore, from this moment onwards, the junior Mage known as Gwen Song is under my protection. Any information pertaining her talents is strictly classified Tower business." Henry's gaze inclined downwards upon the stunned Helena, whose mouth was still making an 'O' for horror. "If any of you have questions or would like to challenge my judgement, let it now be known, or hold your peace." There was silence, a silken silence immediately pursued by the synchronised sound of knees striking cold marble. In the next few seconds that transpired, the crowd, Kwan included, had fallen to one knee and made the ultimate gesture of supplication, their hand placed upon their hearts in a pledge of affirmation. Helena stood her ground, although by now she was a mess of flesh in her husband's hands, who also knelt respectfully. Though not in a military sense, Lord Kilroy was nonetheless his direct superior. "Then that is all," Henry intoned satisfactorily, his stoic voice of command taking up a lighter tone. _BANG! BAN-BANG!_ The sound Sydney's harbour fireworks erupted across the bay. In the next moment, the whole city came alive with music and cacophonic pyrotechnical displays. "Happy New Year," Henry said to them all, raising a hand to hail the kneeling guests. "May you all live long and prosper."

"Master!" Gwen bowed toward her Master as he took a breather on the second-floor living room. "I am glad for your presence, but why are you here? I imagine a Mage of your station would be far too busy." "When everyone thinks you're busy, you're surprisingly free." Henry laughed. "Come closer, Gwen, let's take a look at your progress. Surya tells me you have worked hard while on the estate." Gwen stood in front of Henry and concentrated on activating her Sigils one by one. Henry's eyes glowed with the scintillating hues of Divination, measuring the wavelengths of mana radiating off Gwen's Astral Body. "I see significant growth in your Abjuration Sigil," Henry intoned pleasingly. "Your Evocation and Conjuration are moving nicely as well, though there are many more months of training there yet." "And Tier 4 Lightning? Very impressive, Gwen. I can sense some growth in your Void affinity as well, though as always, I would act conservatively in its utility until you gain access to a source of replenishment." Her Master inclined his head satisfactorily. "Very good, Gwen, you have kept yourself busy." "Thank you, Master," Gwen replied respectfully. "I wish to run a hypothesis by you if that is at all possible." "Of course, child, go on." Gwen informed Henry of her encounter with Wanka, about her suspicions regarding Caliban's elemental consumption. She watched Henry rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "If this is true, Gwen, then I would venture to take you on some targeted 'Purges' in the next few months." "That would be lovely, Master," Gwen answered delicately. "On that note, I am unsure what to focus on in the coming three months, do you have any advice?" Sufina appeared beside Gwen again, caressing Gwen's hair greedily and coiling her tendrils around her waist. The dryad's leaves were now vibrant and glossy with the scent of spring. "Conjuration, of course!" Sufina uttered with that sultry voice of hers. She had taken on Gwen's likeness after intoxicating herself within the presence of the serpent's primal vitality. Gwen wordlessly watched her doppelgänger strut about the place, stomping about with two pointed stilts that made up her otherwise curvaceous and well-formed legs. The sight was alien, to say the least, disturbing and discerning all at once. Henry seemed used to Sufina's antics and simply allowed his Familiar to do as she pleased. "Yes," her Master answered after a few seconds of deliberation. "For combat against other Mages, there are few schools as powerful as Conjuration." "Can you elaborate, Master?" "Sufina, can you demonstrate?" "Of course, Henry." Sufina moved with a graceful leap, performing an aerial pirouette before gracefully landing on the seamless marble tiles. Henry concentrated on channelling mana into his familiar. "Minor Elemental." Henry incanted, and a half-dozen shrubs sprung into life and began to form into a line. They faced Gwen and saluted with their stiff limbs. "This is a useful spell, good for distractions and cannon fodder, but beware the next step." Henry fed his mana into the summons. Immediately, their cute, shrubbery form turned cruel with splinters and spikes, the limbs of the miniature trees grew barbs that gleamed with venom. "That took a significant fraction of mana," Henry noted. "Not an easy feat if your mana pool is low." He dismissed the trees with a wave. "Next, one of my favourites. Morden's Faithful Hound." Gwen's eyes gleamed as a wooden dog appeared on the floor where the spell had struck. It was huge, easily the size of a fully grown Mastiff. The dog stoically gazed over the surroundings, taking in all that it surveyed. "It can see in the dark, it can detect invisibility, and it can defend an area to its death." Henry waved his hand, and the dog launched itself at Gwen, stopping an inch before her face. It was so fast that she had barely time to react. "That's incredibly useful," Gwen declared, touching the wooden dog with her finger, patting its head. It even smelled nice. "Does it do much damage?" Henry chuckled. "It can defeat a tier 3 Magical Beast at your tier, at my tier, it can take on tier 5 to 6 creature. It's a useful utility spell." "Would I be able to summon, you know… a 'dark' dog?" Gwen asked carefully. Henry tried to imagine that. "What a terrifying suggestion." He shuddered at the thought. He had modelled his hound on the old hunting dogs they had in Hungary. What manner of exotic and nightmarish beings would emerge from Gwen's imagination? Her Master dismissed the dog. "Then there's this signature spell of the Transmutation school." Henry invoked the magic effortlessly. "Dimension Door!" Sufina blinked out of existence and appeared a few meters away, waving at Gwen. "Teleportation!" Gwen gushed with delight. Gods, she wanted access to teleportation as much as she wished to Fly. A Mage with both could only be endangered in combat if they were OOM. "Yes, but a complicated spell to learn. If you fail to materialise or end up inside a wall, expect to be bruised black and red for a month, inside and out." Gwen nodded solemnly, promising that she would learn the spell and not abuse its purpose. "Finally, though not the most tasteful of spells, this is one of the most useful, especially with Sufina's help." Henry pointed at the ceiling. "Eilard's Dark Tentacles!" Tendrils of barbed plants sprouted from the ceiling and began to search for targets. Not finding any hostiles, they coiled back, forming a hedge of lianas. "Can you guess what the great boon of this spell is?" "It can be cast on ceilings?" Gwen asked. "Of course, there's that." Henry chortled. "I can trap, slow or restrain, as well as disrupt other Mage's incantations. Unlike the dog, which cannot move far from the spot, the Tentacles can be summoned within thirty metres of the caster and has a reach equating your affinity." Gwen gushed. All the spells seemed so good! "No new Evocation?" Gwen asked just in case. "I wouldn't think so," Henry said. "Normal Mages do not train in multiple schools at once. My advice is to focus on Conjuration. The spells I have noted all possess excellent utility for offence, defence, and disruption." "I shall take on your advice, Master," Gwen replied. "I shall learn Faithful Hound, Dark Tentacles, and Dimension Door." Gwen also wanted the Minor Elemental spell, but she already had two familiars who consumed her mana and her vitality mercilessly. The hound was a persistent effect, and it could detect invisibility, implying that she would not be at the mercy of an invisible enemy like the last time at Elvia's manor. Dark Tentacles, meanwhile, just sounded as useful as it was nasty. Then a thought struck her. "Master…" Gwen asked. "Can I maintain two copies of each spell with my different elements? I have two familiars, after all." Henry paused, then his eyed widened. "Don't try it without supervision." Henry swallowed nervously. "I could access all four primary elements, but can only use one copy of the spell per invocation. You are special, though. As you possess two elemental gates, you may very well be able to summon two elemental effects." The door to the private living room opened. Surya entered, his face alive with celebration. "What'd I miss?" he inquired jovially. The old Magus had enjoyed a rare night of things going his way. The wayward daughter had been put in her place. His son, Kwan, actually showed support for his decisions for once. His three grandchildren were all doing exceptionally well. The future looked bright. "Good God, what's that!" There was a mass of writhing tentacles on the ceiling of the second-floor living room. Surya stared at Gwen, who flushed with excitement. He glanced at Sufina, who had taken on a scandalous version of Gwen's form and was flitting about the place. Surya's artistic mind felt a sudden inspiration for a new art piece. "Oh, just a demonstration." Henry snapped his fingers and the tentacles faded into the aether. "Gwen has chosen to specialise in Conjuration for now." "I wish she had found Enchantment." Surya sulked. "I have so much to teach you as well." Gwen forced herself to smile. She wasn't sure that she could stomach Caliban eating any other Mages while they were alive and kicking. That was a road that, once taken, was a path of no return. Elizabeth was the pariah that had taught them all that lesson. "How are things down below?" "Dying down," Surya replied. "You should be down there as well. The young folks are all clamouring for you." "I will, thanks, Opa." Gwen hugged her Opa, then relocated downstairs. From the lounge, the duo watched her go. As soon as Gwen was gone, Sufina instantly reached Henry's side, nursing him a cup of her Golden Mead. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Thanks for coming out. I appreciate it." Surya expressed his gratitude. "It's nothing. That girl is going to be terrifying in a few years. I only hope she can remain as pure and incorruptible as she is now." "Ain't it about time you retired, old man? I just announced my retirement, after all. Give Gwen a few years, and she'll be running this place. Just gotta hold the fort until she's ready." "Are giving up on the Salt child?" "Yes, unless his mother gives up first. You saw what he's like out there. She's got her teeth well sunk into his neck. I wonder what the hell his father is doing. Bloody useless Abjurer that he is." "Indeed," Henry replied drily. "How curious that Gwen would emerge from an otherwise mundane union. How fortuitous." "Speak for yourself," Surya joked. Henry smiled a wane smile and sipped his mead. "I should be getting back. Tell Gwen I'll see her at the grot for Conjuration training every Saturday and Sunday in addition to her group work. I'll send over the Abjurer once their school starts next week." "Thanks again," Surya noted. "Take care, mate." Henry waved. There was a silver flash of Conjuration as the beacon at the Tower locked on, and he was gone. "Hey! She's back!" Someone called out excitedly. "Gwen!" "Miss Song!" A dozen voices called out as Gwen descended the circular stairs that led down to the living room. She appeared even more striking now that her abilities were out in the open. Many who had thought Gwen merely an uncommonly talented sorceress now openly vied for her favour. "Cousin." Richard sidled up to Gwen, drink in hand, passing her a flute of sparkling juice. "Thanks, Richard, but you didn't have to give up your inheritance," Gwen said seriously. "Nonsense! Do you think I could concentrate on being a legendary Conjurer if I had to deal with house politics and business deals? You ever wonder why Kwan was such a terrible Transmuter?" "Well, if you put it like that," Gwen chided Richard mirthfully. "Are you hoping that I'd waste all my time dealing with the politics so you could remain top-dog?" "The business of a Magister runs itself," Richard answered effortlessly. "People would fall over themselves to do business with a Tower Master." "How could I possess a Tower?" Gwen asked. A base of her own was something that was still too distant to even imagine. "I am not even a Magus— I don't even have a single School in the middle-tier!" "Bah, a matter of time." Richard raised his glass, and many of those listening to their conversation did the same. "To Gwen and her Tower. May I occupy the level below the Master Suite!" Glasses clinked, waves of laughter passed through the guests. "How many schools of Magic do you know anyhow?" Richard tested the waters, activating a subtle earring and its glyph. "Why, who wants to know?" Gwen's eyes narrowed, Richard was using a private Message spell. "Just the two and a half." "Not two and Transmutation, and Abjuration?" Richard lowered his voice, compressing it somehow so that it took on a conspiratorial air. "Of course not, don't be absurd!" Gwen replied quietly, but she couldn't use private Messages spells yet nor possessed a Magical item to do so like Richard, so she had to lean in closer to his ears. The intimate act drew envious looks from those who had been hoping for a closer interaction with the duo. "Fine, at least tell me if your Opa is the giving you all the crystals to feed your familiars, I don't see you generating currency at all." Gwen blushed. She had been using her Opa as a kind of a limitless credit card. Richard was right though, Gwen needed to disembark the Opa Sugar Train ASAP if she ever wanted to strike out on her own. "It's a secret!" She playfully punched Richard in the ribs. Richard's face blossomed into happiness. Gwen felt her skin crawl. Maybe he liked getting beat up? Did Richard have that kind of inclination? After all, nobody could be completely perfect, and Richard was no exception. What Gwen didn't know, was that in her moment of celebration, she hadn't noted the little word game in Richard's line of logic. She had just experienced a moment of triumph which offered relief from her demonic mother. Her Master had shown her a fabulous future, and Opa had virtually proclaimed her as his heir. She was drunk on victory. It was in moments like these that men and women were often at their weakest. Beside her, Richard was beyond thrilled. He had finally confirmed that Gwen had more than one familiar. It could only mean one of two things. Either Gwen had surpassed the constraints of existing magical theory and had developed an original spell to gain two Lightning familiars - or she simply had two distinct elements. His eyes measured the ebullient girl beside him, scanning her remarkable physiology for clues. The blue glow that Gwen now maintained in her eyes was the effect of the Quasi-elemental Lightning, but other than that, she merely appeared paler than he recalled. Was it Air? Or Ice? He was dying to find out, but Gwen was accosted by a dozen people who surrounded her like supplicants around an altar of knowledge. Richard felt a yawn coming on. Typically, the guests would be long gone, but thanks to the events of the night, they had chosen to stay on, far extending the hospitality of his father. Would Gwen stay overnight then? He wanted to know more about her as well, about her power, her past, her life growing up. These facts had all been denied by Gwen's spiteful mother, who had kept her removed from the family. Curiously, he regarded his cousin, who flitted about the men and women effortlessly. She seemed so in her element, picking up conversations from here and there. Where did she acquire that kind of skill? Richard wondered. As far as he knew, Gwen had been gloomy and quiet, at least according to Helena. "Thank you all for coming, friends! Happy New Year!" Richard's father was likewise growing irritated with the guests who insisted on staying. His household staff were all stifling yawns and straining to keep awake. Surya had informed him that Lord Henry had gone, so there was no more reason to be polite within his own home. "Next time, friend!" he called out to them and began to make the rounds, shaking their hands and ushering them toward the door. For the first time in her life, as a team of four - Kwan, Tali, Richard and herself, Gwen and her family shook hands and well-wished the guests at the door. "Visit me at Lil's!" Petunia Wallace hugged Gwen before making her way out. "Transfer if you can!" Once the guest was gone, the living room grew cold. Gwen shivered, her dress didn't offer much protection, and the harbour air was frigid when blowing in from the Tasman Sea. Richard pulled a coat from his Storage Ring and placed it over her shoulders, catching her looking at him strangely. "They teach you that in Prince's?" Gwen returned winsomely. "Are you staying over? Surya is using one of the guest rooms. I'll get the servants to set up another for you." "Please." Now that the public was gone, the tension drained from Gwen's body. "My feet... beautiful is pain." Richard nodded and led his cousin into the house, where the housekeeper was already working way overtime. "Thanks, Nam." He nodded approvingly to the middle-aged NoM woman. "After you're done, go get some shut-eye. I'll let Dad know that everyone can get a day off tomorrow, fully paid." "Glad to be of service, sir." The housekeeper bowed and left the room. Bypassing Richard, Gwen rushed into the bathroom and wiped away her mascara-laden lashes, her foundation and her bronzers. "I'll be back." Richard left Gwen to her labour. He returned half an hour later, changing out of his suit into comfortable shorts and a tight white-tee with a jug a mug on a tray. "Gwen, are you decent?" He knocked. "Come in!" Richard came in, Gwen was likewise in shorts and a white singlet. They even had the same pastel shorts. Richard laughed and placed the cup and jug down beside Gwen on the nightstand. "What's your plan from here on out?" Richard inquired. "Training, lots of training," Gwen replied happily. She couldn't wait to tap into those Conjuration spells at the higher tier. "Then group training with my team for the Inter-High, we're supposed to be getting a new member as well." "What of all your secrets? Could this new member handle the likes of yourself and Yue?" Richard asked casually, leaning back against his chair. "What secrets?" Gwen asked innocently, now that she was au naturel, her skin glowed. "Oh you know, the fact that you have multiple schools," Richard pointed out. "People know that already though." "What about your second element? When are you revealing that?" Gwen stared at her cousin. Richard leaned in so that they were face to face. "I want you to trust me, Gwen," he intoned carefully. "I am your ally, I proposed to give up the inheritance for you, and I've done just that. I merely ask that you don't keep me out of your life." Gwen blushed. This Richard, what a thing to say. "Is that a proposition?" She inquired coyly, lowering her voice, hoping to tease him a little. "Are you offering?" He countered, his face not moving a muscle, his demeanour cool as a cucumber. "Fine." Gwen relented. Somehow, she simply felt that this cousin, who did not exist in her world, was truthworthy. It was a gut feeling, but one toward which she held a strong opinion. "But no telling your mates at Prince's, Lord knows I have to square off against your school's elite team." "I can tell you their stats if you like," Richard offered. "If you can keep a secret yourself." Gwen considered the offer, all's fair in love and war, right? "I do have a second element. It's— Void." Richard drew in a shuddering breath. "Can… can I see?" He instantly caught his transgression. "No, no, never mind. The cost of using a Negative element. Sorry, no need to show me. I believe you." Gwen hadn't wanted to show Richard either, but she felt smitten. Richard had always seemed a curious creature to her. Sometimes, he felt akin to an esoteric monk. Richard often remarked on her beauty, but more in the manner of a man appreciating the gentle curves of a Bonzai. He was a gifted Mage - but didn't seem to crave magical power for the sake of power itself. Likewise, the way he blustered through one faux pas after another, was more so an act to push everything and everyone away— including his parents. "It's okay, I want to show you," Gwen returned earnestly. "It's just an unempowered summon. I'll be right as rain after a good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast." She gathered her wits and invoked the Conjuration Sigil. "Caliban," she called out. The netherworld worm slithered through time and space and made itself known in the guest bedroom. "Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban sidled up to Gwen and nuzzled her lovingly. Richard gripped the handrails of the tub chair with such ferocity that his nails dug through the leather. Gwen's cousin sat and regulated his breathing for a few seconds until his heart rate fell within acceptable parameters for polite conversation. "That is a Void Beast." His voice shook. "They shouldn't exist. The academy has never found a specimen, living or dead." "You know about them?" Gwen was surprised. "I know of them," Richard replied. "Can I… touch it?" Gwen willed Caliban to face her cousin. The translucent body of the obsidian servant wiggled its way towards Richard. "Shaa! Shaa!" It showed off its best side, opening up a crack in is carapace to make the gurgling hissing noise which issued from its lamprey's mouth. To Gwen's surprise, Richard placed a hand upon Caliban without a second thought. "You're beautiful," he said, his voice suddenly cracking with emotion. "I feel... amazed." Richard picked up Caliban in the manner of a sausage dog. Gwen could hardly comprehend what she was seeing. No one had ever picked up Caliban. SHE hadn't picked up Caliban herself. Caliban seemed to enjoy Richard's touch. It writhed in her cousin's hands, coiling around his arm. "Shaa! Shaa!" It joyous cooed. Caliban, being coy?! Gwen felt that everything she had known about her Familiar had turned upside down. Caliban was trying to rub up against Richard like a cat! It was covering his hands with that viscus goo which leaked from its mouth. Oh, Gods! Gwen realised with a shudder. It's licking his hand! A Lovecraftian kitten? Was that even possible? "Let me show you something as well, as a sign of our trust," Richard said, putting down Caliban to slither back towards Gwen. "Lea, come out and meet my cousin." At his command, a sudden outpouring of Elemental Water that filled the room, upping the humidity ten-fold. A female figure rose from behind Richard. Gwen saw a transparent face that was beautifully sculpted, with deeply set eyes and a high ridge-line nose. The hair, assuming she had hair, was a cascade of tiny waterfalls that fell from her scalp in eddies and swirls. Her upper body was lithe and likewise crystal clear, with well-formed breasts underneath a silk dress of aquamarine. With unblinking eyes without eyelids, the "girl" gazed at Gwen through two ultramarine opals. "You… you have a Spirit?" Gwen's eyes concurrently glowed with excitement. She had only ever seen Henry's familiar, Sufina. Richard was the only other example of a humanoid Spirit she had seen to date. "Picked up her on my Field Trip. Lea is an Undine. A high-tier Spirit." It was now Gwen's turn to suck in her breath. An Undine! A water Spirit, a river ghost, a legendary creature that seduced and drowned unwary travellers. They were said to be intelligent to the point of being human. Like Sufina, Lea could take independent action, think for itself, and perform complex tasks. "How can there be an Undine in Australia?!" Gwen asked naively. "Prince's takes yearly Field Trips around the world," Richard explained patiently. "I found Lea in Scotland during our highland survivalist training." The Undine then seemed to notice something about Gwen. It drifted across the bed. She touched's Gwen's cheeks. Her hands were cold but felt refreshing upon her skin. "I like her, Richard!" Lea suddenly spoke, her annunciation achieved by the vibration of liquid particles. "She's got a wonderful aura!" IT TALKS? Gwen swallowed. Not even Alesia's Caracal could talk. Lea left Richard entirely and splashed into Gwen, drenching her upper body as it swirled and flowed excitedly, pasting Gwen's hair to her face in paintbrush streaks. "What is this scent?" Lea kept asking. "It's so nice. I feel like I am somewhere else, somewhere older." Richard had no idea what was happening either. He looked at Gwen expectantly. Gwen however, had noted more pressing matters. She wasn't wearing a bra, and now she was offering Richard a free show. "Lea!" Richard commanded awkwardly. "Don't be so rude to our guest, pick up after yourself." The water on her clothes and the mattress collated at once into a ball. Lea winked, then returned to her pocket dimension. Unfortunately, clammy clothes didn't help either. Gwen made it known that she desired to change into a fresh set of sleeping clothes. "Sorry." Richard's face was as stoic as ever. "And that's all. Good night!" "Good night." Gwen tugged on Richard's sleeves. "And Richard?" "Yes, Gwen?" "Thanks for looking out for me." The grin Richard returned was full of teeth. "No, Miss Song. I hope you'll be the one looking after me."

The combined effort of conjuring Caliban and the thrilling triumph of last night ensured that Gwen slept like the dead until midday, awakening only when her hunger caused her stomach to contract. There was a brief moment of disorientation when she opened her eyes and found herself yet again in an unfamiliar bedroom. The return of pleasant, yesteryear memories, thankfully, returned her to the embrace of expensive linen. Another snooze later, Gwen dressed. The servants had retired for the day, so she helped herself to the fridge and made herself a cold sandwich of leftover roasts. Being famished, Gwen polished off the rest of the ham, washing meat down with glasses of cranberry juice. When she finished, she found a note left for her by the kitchen counter. "Gwen, I am heading back to Prince's. Good luck with the training. Kwan and Tali are going over to Surya's. Gramps told me to let you sleep. We'll catch up for luncheons." \- Richard Ding! Just as Gwen considered whether she should call Richard or Surya, a Message spell bloomed beside her ear. It was Alesia. Gwen took the Message on her device. "Hey, Tiger! I just spoke to Master. Well done, sister! I can't believe I was away when all these terrible things happened! Are you free to catch up today?" "Allie!" Gwen gushed. "Yes! I am free!" "Awesome, I am dying to meet up. Also, I have your new team member with me, do you mind if I bring him?" "A guy?" Gwen paused for a moment. She hadn't heard that their new member was going to be a guy. Wouldn't another girl give a better vibe? After all, a well-spiced team naturally included Posh, Ginger, Sporty, Baby, and Misc No.5. "What's he like?" "Ha, curious? He's incredibly handsome, dashing and dreamy. A real melt-your-heart kind of heartthrob." Gwen laughed, Alesia was much too young at heart. "He sounds like a magazine model," Gwen retorted. "Do you think he's the right fit for our group?" "You'll have to come and see," Alesia replied mysteriously. "He's trustworthy. Completely clean. The Auckland Tower's Master owes Henry a big one and so loaned us his protege. You girls will have to play nice while he's on exchange for the next six months." "Oh?" Gwen was very much interested now. An exchange student from another city, another country! "I'll be along shortly, where do you want to have our luncheon?" "What do you feel like?" "Sushi?" Gwen said the first thing that came to her mind. She had already eaten the better quarter of a leftover ham but was confident seafood should be no obstacle to her starved body. After all, meat digested in one stomach, seafood in another, dessert sat in the appendix, which serves as a reserve stomach for teenage girls. Everybody knew this. "Great, see you at Pyrmont, we'll meet at Sokio's. I'll get us a table." Alesia hung up, and Gwen was impressed. Even she had heard of the most expensive sashimi bar in Sydney. Gwen had vague memories of eating there once, courtesy of her mother, but only recalled eating the cheap stuff, such as the Tamago rolls. From memory, she recalled that Sokio's was booked out weeks in advance, how is Alesia hoping for a three on the first day of the New Year? Gwen looked herself over in the mirror of the kitchen splashback. She was in no mind to change her outfit, but Alesia never showed up anywhere without dressing up. The clock showed eleven. Gwen changed into an unbranded long sleeves dress she had found in the country town. The fabric was coarse, but the cut was trim and minimalist, it was only forty buckaroos, but Gwen was confident she wore it like couture. From Kirribilli, she crossed the bay via the ferry, mindful of the public. This time, thanks to the NoMs keeping their distance, the journey was completed without incident. It was the aura she now carried; something Henry said Senior Mages acquired after years of devotion to their craft. As the caster's Astral Soul attuned to their element, they assumed the quirks and qualities of said element, becoming akin to Demi-humans. When in public and especially among NoMs, non-magical humans innately understood that here was a being capable of crushing them like vermin. Which suited Gwen fine; if someone groped her tooshie again, the ferry might just sink. Some distance away, Gwen was glad to find that Pyrmont Wharf had remained unchanged from her old world. It was still a series of gentrified warehouses converted into fancy restaurants with impressively high ceilings. As it was the first day of the new year and a Friday, Alesia's preferred fine-dining establishment had patrons spilling on to the sidewalk. Gingerly, Gwen approached the maitre d', watching the woman's eyes scanning her from cotton dress to leather sandal. "Hello, I have a booking under Be Botton?" The madam browsed her notebook. "I have no appointments under a Miss de Botton." The maitre d's ruby red lips had a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Also, I am afraid we're booked out for lunch entirely." Gwen blinked. No booking? Retreating, Gwen found a comfortable position under a shade-cloth and waited. The cork heels of her sandals bite into her ankles uncomfortably. Cheap was cheap, Gwen sighed. Magical shoes weren't something she could currently afford. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long for Alesia. In retina-searing red, Gwen saw a figure cutting through the crowd. Alesia de Botton was radiant as always; her striking appearance made more so alluring by her dark makeup. Presently, she wore a flowing red maxi that wrapped around her peerless figure. As she walked, her dark auburn hair bounced and bobbed, her tanned legs peeping in between sheets of scarlet chiffon. Beside Alesia, stomped an iron giant. Gwen did not use the word giant lightly, for the young man beside her could only be described as Brobdingnagian. The Mage was a Maori; his cultural roots made evident by the ta moko across his nose and cheeks. A block of green jade hung from his muscular neck, dangling from a length of twine. Around his torso, a tight black t-shirt barely constrained the man's well-defined chest and shoulders. Ye Gods! Gwen heard herself say. That boy has brawn for days. As the duo approached, the crowd parted as though the Red Sea before the Magi Moses. "Gwennie!" Alesia ran the last few steps toward her, enveloping Gwen with the full momentum of her body. Gwen likewise wrapped her arms around Alesia, sinking into the soft folds of her beautiful dress. "Gods, it feels like a lifetime since I last saw you." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "It does, doesn't it." Alesia hugged Gwen with the fierceness of a mother hen folding her wings over a long lost chick. Finally, Alesia stepped back and introduced the seven-foot giant. "This is Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga, your new Abjurer. Whetu, say hello to Gwen Song, the youngest future Magister this side of the Coral Sea." "Kia ora, Gwen Song!" Whetu greeted her. To Gwen's surprise, the young man had a voice that was gentle and pleasant. "It's lovely to meet you, Whē-tú am I saying that right?" "Ay, you've got it down pat." Whetu's dark eyes scanned his teammate. "Youse fully beeutiful Gwen, I amejened some when very pretty, but yew blue all egg-specations." "Aww, that's sweet, thank you, Whetu," Gwen answered. The young man was well mannered; his eyes had not wandered at all. They shook, his hands swallowing her white fingers. "You... understood what he's saying?" Alesia had a shocked expression. "Whetu, are you using the stone? I can't understand a word you're saying." "Gimme a phew sex, Miss." Whetu fiddled with a jade earring. "How's this?" "Much better!" Alesia patted him on the shoulder. "Let's not have that pug sandwich incident again, shall we?" Gwen laughed, did people here not understand the Kiwi accent? Was it because the cities were so geographically and socially isolated? "On the trip over, Whtu asked for 'sex fush cockies', then 'sucks pack of hot weens'. We almost got chased out by the old lady at the ferry's canteen." "No!" Gwen was beside herself. "It's not that bad! He asked for six fish cocktails, then a pack of hot chicken wings." "You understood all of that?" Alesia's blue eyes were the size of almonds. "You're not wearing a Translator Ioun Stone, are you?" "You can't?" Gwen asked in surprise. "The Kiwi's are a part of the Mageocracy; they speak English!" "That's derogatory, Miss Gwen," Whetu declared, "The ki-wee is a sacrid and benevolent spirit of the land, and many of our tribes see them as owners of the land. I am from one of these clans, and we always speak of them with respect." "Sorry, Whetu," Gwen apologised sweetly. "Assuming Allie can get us in there, it'll be my shout. Have you had sashimi before?" "Not much for raw fush me-self, Miss, but I'll take you up on your company." Across the walkway, Alesia flowed towards the maitre d' who'd been keeping an eye on the conspicuously eye-catching trio. "Seat for three," Alesia demanded in a tone that indicated the sky was blue. "Window area." The maitre d' visibly began to sweat. Alesia was a powerful Mage, perhaps one of the top Combat Mages in Sydney. Even if she didn't declare herself, the aura she exuded was palpable. Thankfully, a passing floor manager knew his VIP list well enough to recognise the auburn air and flaming dress, if not Alesia's face. "Magus de Botton!" He leapt down the stairs in twos and threes, sprinting across the lobby toward the podium. "Thank you for humbling our establishment." The maitre d' gazed at her manager with careful inquisitiveness. "Sophie's new. We're so sorry," The manager mirthfully scolded the junior manager. "Sophie— apologise to Miss de Botton and take them to the third floor, harbour view suite." Sophie bowed smartly, lowering herself. "Please accept my apologies, Miss De Botton. Please, come this way." Alesia motioned for the other two to join her. The crowd waiting in the long line said nothing. Gwen felt ambivalent. The whole differential treatment of those who were privileged remained a bit of a stickler in her throat. Presumably, she could also receive the same regard once she was famous enough, but the mere thought of doing what Alesia had done make her scalp crawl. The three of them were seated in a spacious private room. Outside was a view of the harbour, with seagulls battling the dizzying heat of Sydney's summer. It was getting hotter year by year; the News had said, resulting in increased Mermen activity along the coast. " _Anata no tanoshimi no tame ni—_ ," said the Japanese chef with a heavy accent. The chef retrieved a struggling red snapper from its salt-water tank, pinning it to the chopping board. Gulping air, its mouth silently screamed. The fish was rare, or so the chef assured them as he filleted its still-living flesh. Once plated, its crystalline flesh laid like white jade over a bed of enchanted ice. "This is an aboom-a-nation." Whetu uttered unhappily. "Wot are they doing to this poor fush? Why is it still moving?" "It's to keep the flesh fresh and its mana intact." Alesia stabbed a chopstick into a slice and dipped it gingerly into the ponzu sauce. "Oh my, it's as good as I recall. Beautiful." Gwen likewise skewered a chunk. Knowing that the fish didn't register pain the same way as humans soothed her conscience. Watching the girls eat, Whetu finally tried a piece. "Tastes like see." He sighed. "Poor fush." When finally the fish ceased its death throes, Whetu's nostrils flared. Sensing the big man's unease, Gwen ventured to ask him some questions. "So Whetu, can you tell me a bit about yourself?" "Shure thin Miss." He made himself comfortable as possible on the tiny stool. "Please, Whetu, just Gwen is fine." "Alright, Gwen, what do you want to know?" "Where are you from?" "Auckland, east coast of the north island. My people originated from the hot springs to the south, near Turangi. Mermen raided Rotorua. Dad moved us out of the hills and into the city, where I attended high school." "I am sorry to hear that. Are your family safe?" Gwen asked compassionately, giving him a pat on the knee. "Most of us lived, that's good enough." Whetu shrugged stoically, shaking one leg reflexively. "We were two thousand odd when we left Rotorua, about three-quarters made it." "How old are you, Whetu?" "Sex-teen on sivven-teen, same as you." "You are very tall!" Gwen marvelled. "Are all your people so stout?" "Me brother's taller." Whetu smiled, his tattoos moving and shifting accordingly. "How many siblings do you have?" "Had four, three now," he replied. "Oh, I am sorry to hear that." Gwen was taken aback by his frankness. If Sydney, with millions of souls, was considered by the tier one cities to be a frontier, she couldn't imagine how Wellington or Auckland was surviving the Demi-human incursions. The chef reappeared with a glass tank full of writhing squid. Gwen watched with fascinated horror as he splayed a multicoloured cephalopod across the chopping board. With one deft swish, the chef degloved the creature, extracting its single bone plate. As a finishing touch, the still-living squid was placed atop a small bowl of delicate-looking rice, painting it rainbow as it danced and oozed. "Beautiful, look at that," Alesia cooed. "I love this dish, Rainbow Dancing Squid." Gwen and Whetu silently watched two more bowls of rainbow squid receive their carcasses. Once the performance was done, he pointed to a small teaspoon of wasabi-laced soy sauce and made the motion of pouring it over the squid. " _Tanoshinde kudasai!_ " "Here we go!" Alesia uttered with anticipation and delight. She took the teaspoon carefully and poured it over the squid. Where the rainbow had previously faded, it now burst into multicoloured hues, misting the air with an incandescent spray of colour before beginning to "dance". "These are four HDM crystal per serve, you know," Alesia looked like she was having the time of her life. She waited until her squid had spent its last motes of vitality before mixing it in with the rice and tasting it with a look of heavenly pleasure. Gwen looked over at Whetu, whose face was both ashen and disturbed. "I guess we better dig in, Whetu, that's someone's weekly wage, it'd be more disrespectful to let it suffer all that for no reason." Whetu nodded and sloshed the squid into his mouth, swallowing it without chewing. Gwen mixed the squid into the bowl before adding the enchanting sauce, feeling no love for the macabre display. The taste was so-so, but the vitality she felt contained within was unlike anything she had never experienced. The squid bowl was akin to a mouthful of Sufina's mead. Food like this was why wealthy Mages had better health and bigger mana pools. With mixed feelings, Gwen and Whetu sat through the rest of the meal, watching the same chef butcher a Spiny Octopus, a jewel-like Abalone, then a live scampi the size of her arm. Whetu protested each dish by shoving each serving the food into his mouth, swallowing without tasting. Alesia appeared a regular, savouring each dish. Gwen ate in silence, guiltily absorbing the vitality. She ended up eating Whetu's portion when a live Eel was grilled on hot coals, citing that torturing a Sacred River God was profane. Alesia loved the eel. As for Gwen, she was too afraid to confess that she had picked sushi. "So, what are your abilities like, Whetu?" Gwen changed the topic. "I am a tear 3 Abjurer." Whetu pointed a hand at the greenstone necklace that hung heavily from his neck. "I specialise in dis." Gwen leaned in closer. The block of greenstone glowed. When Whetu activated his innate talent, the stone changed into a stylised fishhook. "Whoa!" Gwen did a double-take. "Is that mineral or stone?" "It's the Pounamu their people worship, a kind of jade," Alesia butted into the conversation. "Its got above average physical and elemental resistance. With Whetu here, your team is sure to rise in the ranks." "I'll be sure to thank the man later." Gwen grinned confidently. If Alesia was impressed with Whetu's element, then it meant he was something special. The Japanese chef once again returned. He thanked the diners one by one for their patronage and presented them with a gift from the restaurant for the new year, a slice of imported Shizuoka muskmelon, its redolent flesh dripping with flavour and mana. The three of them savoured the moment, crushing the crisp melon in their mouths, feeling its energy infusing their bodies. "Dis amazing. I feel like a verjun again," Whetu said. "I am pretty sure you're still a virgin, Tiger, at least from what your Master told me." Alesia snickered. "Plenty of opportunities, though, your new team are all girls - beautiful, pretty, unattached girls." "Sweet ass." Whetu swallowed his melon and gave them a thumbs up. The tattoo about his mouth somewhat resembled an impressive beard in the atmospheric lighting of the restaurant, making him look far older than his tender years. "Gwen, you wanna take him back to the dorm?" "Sure, are we're resuming training from the school?" "Of course, Tiger, you can't represent Blackwattle without training at its facilities. Once you pass the prelims, the school will also serve as your home base. You guys are going to have to have home ground matches there, and away matches at the other schools." "What about the stadium match?" Gwen asked. The notes her Master gave spoke of an arena. "That's for the regional Top 8. Are we feeling ambitious now that Whetu is here?" "Ah, right." Gwen made a note to do more homework as soon as possible. In a world without Google, how did anyone know anything about anything?!

The day had begun to wane when Gwen and Whetu finally made it back to the dorm. To Gwen's surprise, the young man didn't yet receive his Storage Ring, so Gwen had Alesia transfer over Whetu's luggage into her's. "Whoa, big spender. A medium Ring!" Alesia whistled. "Nice work, Tiger!" "It was a gift from Opa and the big man," Gwen answered euphemistically. "Lucky you, I had to maim a Magus for mine," Alesia said nostalgically. "I suppose that's why they banned honour duels to the death these days. The war was a great time for picking up bric-a-brac trinkets from rivals." Sweating, Gwen and Whetu ignored Alesia's explosive revelation. "Gwen, do you think we can stop over some shops? I need to purchase some supplies," Whetu requested. "Of course, Whetu, we'll get right on it." They arrived at the dorm a few hours later, Whetu having purchased all the necessary supplies for living in a new home. "It keeps the colour fresh and the lines clean," Whetu introduced Gwen to the finer points of tattoo maintenance. "The creme also keeps my skin smooth like a babe's." Gwen gave her approval, then helped Whetu settle into his room before returning to her own. The shared loft was as the trio had left it. From the looks of the undisturbed furniture, neither Yue nor Elvia had returned. Gwen called Debora. Debs answered within a second. "Hey Debs, I am back at the dorm, how about yourself? Are you back?" "Yep, can't wait to get started on the sweaty training, where are you now?" "I'll meet you down at the canteen, got our new Abjurer with us." "Oh nice, what's she like?" "It's a guy, and he's super cute." Debora grew silent. Gwen hung up and placed her luggage and clothing back in the wardrobe. She then bushed her hair to straighten out the salty tangles from the harbour. When she met up with Whetu again, they were both starved for supper. "Very nice building," Whetu remarked. "This is luxurious?" Gwen asked, puzzled. "It's sweet-ass." Whetu placed a hand on the aluminium handrail of the elevator. "In my old dorm, the lift is for cargo, the doors, they close like dis." He made a motion with his hands like two parts of a jaw enclosing. "Youse can get stuck in there. Ooo it can cut your head off." The young Maori was so expressive that Gwen couldn't help but giggle. Whetu was a funny guy, and his easy manners helped her relax. Arriving just as dinner was being served, Whetu rubbed both hands together expansively. "I love it already, Gwen. Free food?!" Gwen nodded, saying a prayer for the cook. She watched the big man polish off a whole BBQ chicken by himself with a side serving of a dozen dinner rolls and a small mountain of mash. The rest of the canteen marvelled at Whetu as well, wondering who this giant was and why he was eating enough for three grown men. Mid-meal, the lift opened and revealed Debora in a tight singlet and bell-bottom shorts that rode high onto her buttocks. "Gwen!" She ran across the foyer and into the dining, wrapping her arms around Gwen's neck, kissing her on the cheek. "Hey Debs, meet Whetu. Whetu, this is Debora Jones, our transmuter." Debora had no intention of removing herself from Gwen's neck, so she arched her back and shifted her weight instead, extending a hand towards the gigantic Maori. Whetu looked up from his half-chewed chicken, embarrassed, his mitts glistening with grease. "Finish up, no rush." Debora retracted her hand, moving it over Gwen's waist. "What's wrong, Gwen? You're so tense!" Gwen endured. "So what did you do for New Years?" "More church, plus stuff with the family, I heard you went back home?" Unlike Yue and Elvia, Debora was never privy to some of Gwen's more personal affairs, especially those involving her family. Debora had only a vague idea that Gwen had a bad relationship with her parents, something involving a messy divorce. "Nothing, in particular. Sorted out some drama with the fam. I am free from mum for a while." "Awesome." Debora's hands were wandering a little too north from her wait. Politely, Gwen arrested her friend's wandering hands. Debora hugged Gwen from behind, then suddenly withdrew herself. "You're still using that scale?" Debora accused Gwen cattily. "Yeah, why?" "It's dangerous. You don't know what's gone into it. You should get rid of it." "Sorry, no can do, Debs. My grandfather crafted it for me." Debora removed herself with a huff, then sat crossing her legs. Gwen couldn't help but notice that Debs was sporting the traditional Aussie flip-flop, her toenails painted a dark cherry. "Do you like the colour?" Debora asked, changing the subject. "Yeah, they suit your skin tone well," Gwen remarked. "I wish I had your paleness." Debora placed a hand on Gwen's knee. "If I get anymore tanned, I am going to look like a rock." "I heard that folks use Polymorph for cosmetic effects, though only temporary," Gwen assured her. "You're only two tiers away." "But it won't be natural" Her fingers moved up from Gwen's knee. Gwen spanking Debora's increasingly adventurous hand with a flick from her fingers. "Whetu, are you done?" "YES!" Whetu eyes flittered between Gwen and Debora. "You chucks dating?" "No," Gwen refuted, much to Debora's chagrin. "We're friends though, and I trust Debora." Debora's mood lightened up. "Dobra Jones." She extended her hand toward Whetu. "Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga." Her friend shook Whetu's bear-sized mitts without a single kink in her brow. Confused, she wondered if the Indigenous folk specifically triggered Debora. But then again, that hypothesis didn't hold water either - Debs was chill with Tommy; it must be something to do with the Spirit Magic. The three of them made small talk, mostly regarding the monsters of New Zealand. "No way," Debora uttered in surprise. "You guys have Halflings?" "Ay." Whetu shrugged. "Had em for years, they came over with the Brits during the colonial error." "Hobbits?" Gwen inquired with great interest. "What are Hobbits?" Whetu questioned. The big man informed the girls that halflings were a humanoid sapient species common on the Island of the Long Cloud. In a place as rich in mana as New Zealand sapient demi-human species such as Halflings, Dwarves, and even the occasional Elf could be seen in the human cities. The caveat was that demi-citizens had to be especially warded against the barrier's repulsion effects through Abjuration offsets. "They're good farmers. Great with growing food, bad at fighting. We buy their vegetables on the regular. They cost quite a pretty crystal." "What do they do with human currency?" Gwen asked, surprised by the cosmopolitan nature of it all; Sydney was strictly human. "Some of them send it home to Europe, for their families there who don't do so well," Whetu replied. "Others barter for materials." "Wow, Wellington and Auckland sound like a treat." Gwen marvelled. "Gwen!" Yue and Elvia popped into the cafeteria, having returned from New Years at the Lindholm's. Gwen could just about imagine Yue's mother spending the entire night on wobbly legs, speaking to high and mightly Mages that came and went. "Everyone!" Whetu watched the girls hug, studying the foursome that was to be his teammates. "Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga," he introduced himself. "Aim your Abjurer." "Elvia Lindholm" "Yue Bai." "Pleased to meet you." "Likewise." "Alrighty!" Gwen had the girls all sit so that they were five around a circular table. "The crew's all here. Let's get some dessert and introduce ourselves to Whetu." The kitchen staff brought out five serves of custard pudding. "I'll start den." Whetu straightened himself. "Aim an Abjurer, and my element is Pounamu." "What's pounamu?" Yue asked, imagining a jackfruit or a durian. "Dis is ponamu," Whetu replied, placing a slab of greenstone on the table. The girls felt a pulse of Abjuration mana emanate from the Kiwi. The chunk of stone came alive, forming into a dome. "It's beautiful." Yue reached out and touched the conjured dome of jade-like substance. "Is it strong?" "Very strong," Whetu promised. "Resist water, fire and cold. Good against physical attics too. The only drawback is that Pounamu is extremely dense." The girls nodded approvingly, looking at Whetu's biceps. Whetu's muscles were very larger than life; his biceps have a personality all of their own. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. As the mana faded, the dome crumbled into motes of diffusing mana. "Okay, me next," Yue announced. "I am half-arsed tier four Evoker, tier five fire. My best spell is Fire Ball, and my best record is six consecutive casts before I am OOM." "Coor! Impressive." Whetu resoundingly applauded. "I bet you kick ess in a head-on fight!" "Ha, thanks, Whetu, I'll be counting on you." Yue turned to her diminutive partner. "Elvia, you're up!" "Hi," Elvia announced demurely, her face reddening. "I am a tier 3 healer, hybrid Conjuration-Evocation. I can do Cure Minor Wounds and Healing Word, Remove Diseases and Minor Restoration, as well as some simple vitality buffs." "A healer!" Whetu reached out and grasped her hand. "You're my number one priority." Elvia blushed ever more adorably, and Gwen felt her heart sing songs of worship. She reached out and enveloped Elvia, pulling the struggling girl against her chest. That Positive Energy! Evee's soft blonde hair, her boneless body! Snuggling with Elvia was heaven incarnate. Debora looked on saltily. "As you already know, Whetu, I am Debora Jones. I am a tier 3 Transmuter, Tier FIVE Earth element. I have a spirit of sand which allows me to control grains of elemental earth and mould them as I see fit." "Very impressive!" Whetu was genuinely impressed. "Then there's me." Gwen awkwardly coughed. "Can we bring our heads a little closer?" The team made a huddle. "So er… I am tier 4 Lightning, and tier 3 the 'V-word'. Tier 3 Evocation and Tier 3 Conjuration." Gwen whispered lowly. soundedNo matter how many times Yue had heard Gwen's talents, it still sounded like a bald-faced lie. The numbers were just too absurd, not to mention she also knew that Gwen had other untapped potentials. "I am working on reaching tier 4 Conjuration for this competition," Gwen added. Whetu visibly shivered. He had read the data which Henry had sent over to his Master in Auckland. "I'll show you everything when we have some privacy," Gwen suggested, then caught her faux pas. "WHOA-HO!" Yue clapped. "Nice!" Gwen blinked, then caught her faux pas. "Spells, Yue. I'll show Whetu my SPELLS." Elvia blushed in Gwen's arms. "For now, let's get some rest because tomorrow is the beginning of a long three months!" The oddly shaped group retreated from the communal dining. There was some time before their Inter-High training begun. Debora leaned in for a kiss, received one on the cheek, then called it a night. "Let's head up," Gwen announced. "Big day ahead." Midway, Whetu disembarked for his suite while the girls returned to their long vacated home. "Uhh~ Home sweet home!" Yue bounced onto her bed, instantly ruining the efforts of the housekeeper. Elvia meticulously checked through her closet, replacing her linens, changing into something more comfortable. Gwen went into the bathroom and materialised her toiletries, preparing herself for a shower and a brush down. The girls convened for another meeting before they slept in their PJs, where Gwen revealed to them the developments with Surya, Henry, and her mother. "Yes!" Yue shouted jubilantly, ignoring the shushing from the other two girls. "Good on ya, Gwen!" "I am happy for you." Elvia hugged her friend endearingly. "Yep, with that episode is behind us at last. Let's focus on the days ahead! For Inter-High victory!" The two girls bumped fists against Gwen's own. The lights dimmed. Tomorrow was a long day. "UP! UP! UP!" Gwen shot out of bed, gasping for air. What the hell was happening, and what is that racket? The racket was Alesia, and she was slapping Yue across the chest in the manner of a man playing a pair of bongos. "Arrg!" Yue slapped away at her Master with futility. "Let me sleep!" Elvia was already up, timidly dressing in the corner. "Training starts at 7 AM! Didn't you read the memo?" Alesia asked incredulously, her face full of mirthful sadism. "No?" Gwen replied, confused as hell and still groggy. "What memo?" Alesia looked at Gwen blankly. She materialised a thick, leather-bound notepad, which dropped at Gwen's bedside table. "This memo!" Alesia patted the book. "I forgot— hahaha... Fine. Just for today, you get thirty more minutes!" Hell began. The five of them had stamina training in the morning, followed by the inspiriting vision of watching Whetu devour enough breakfast for five. Then they had individual training with Alesia, joined by an assortment of tutors sent over from the Tower. Lunch was mana-rich, vitality-filled food by the tableful. Following lunch came meditation and mana management. The afternoon involved more physical training, followed by dinner at six, where once again, they ate the town. After dinner, the girls had individual theory lessons with their various tutors. Every second day was group training, fighting mock battles and working on cooperative strategies. The girls had Saturday and Sunday off for personal training and reflection. Gwen took each opportunity to visit her Master in the Tower, where Henry personally taught her the nuances of her new spells - Dimension Door, Morden's Faithful Hound, and Eilard's Dark Tentacles. "Morden's a Mage's Mage," Henry explained. "Truly the best of us. He was a nineteenth-century Scot, a Highlander, originally from the Greyhawk Citadels in Suilven. He invented numerous spells as a Conjurer supreme. A born genius, the Mage built a Tower alliance before such concepts existed - eight obsidian towers across Scotland known as the Circle of Eight. Unfortunately, not all the towers had Mages as rulers; some were local lords, one of which was the King of Scotland at the time. Inevitably, the mixed-company meant that the coalition failed at keeping out the Britannic Mageocracy. Morden blamed it on the rulers lacking equal skill and talent. He believed very strongly that only men of intellect and sorcerous skill, whose primary interests were more than material, could keep Scotland free and magic pure." "Sounds like he was an amazing Magi," Gwen marvelled, fantasising if she too, was destined to be like this fabled Morden. "His apprentice was another legend, you know, I am sure you've heard of him." Henry made the motion of opening and closing his fingers. "Bilby's Hand is a highly utilitarian spell." Sufina manifested a mass of tendrils that became a humongous hand. The overall appearance was green and friendly until Gwen noted the barbed thorns covering its surface. Gwen observed the fist sail through the air, opening, closing, and grasping at nothing. "Imagine that, with Lightning or Void." Henry laughed. "Ah— Gwen, what I'd give to see you mature. Though I'd dare say this combination of both Evocation and Conjuration would significantly drain your vitality—" Henry coughed violently. While Gwen practised, Sufina saw her Master through his fits via a steady stream of Golden Mead. The first few time it had happened, Gwen had rushed to her Master, but Henry had told her that it was an old wound acting up, that all he needed was rest. After all, he stated, Sufina was supplying him with raw life-force channelled from the heartland of an island paradise, there was nought for Gwen to do but wait for the episode to pass. As their training progressed, Gwen realised she was once again the recipient of a rare privilege. Usually, students worked through theory, but she needn't worry about the usual, slow-going process. Henry instead opted for brutal efficiency, putting Gwen in the Greater Cognisance Chamber to directly demonstrate how the conduit of mana and the invocation of Sigils should take place. Under her Master's peerless guidance, thus, what was a complex system of calculations and conjurations left no secret unexposed to Gwen's cognisance. As a result, it took Gwen only a few hours to learn Faithful Hound, even though she couldn't cast the spell with combat efficiency nor guarantee a fully functional manifest, she could invoke the dog into the material plane without issue. "Master, this feels like cheating," Gwen announced after observing her stoic hound, a mass of flickering electricity that was all but invisible to the caster and his allies. "I am learning this too quickly. Learning a tier 4 spell is meant to take months. My progress doesn't feel concrete." "Can you afford the time?" Henry asked in turn. "One month is to learn to cast the spell, not use it in combat and under duress! You, my dear Gwen, need to master the spell! What use is Dimension Door if you cannot escape from your enemies in the split-second a Fire Blast or a Sleet Storm struck?" "This feels so surreal," Gwen confessed. "I can't believe I just cast a spell I've never seen before in less than five hours. Those other kids at the private academies, wouldn't they have access to this method too?" "Well," Henry smirked proudly, twirling his moustache in delight. "I have the only Greater Cognisance Chamber in Sydney. A standard chamber is incapable of sustaining a live broadcast of phenomena. You don't think your Master is only as good as someone which can be purchased with crystals, do you?" "Master!" Gwen realised the extent to which Henry was providing for her. He was monopolising a precious resource of the Tower just to give her an edge, how could she ever repay her Master's kindness and generosity? "Focus, Gwen, it would make me happier than you know to see you succeed in three months. If you wish to repay me, show the world that the Void element can be controlled!" "I will, Master," Gwen promised. She turned to the wallless space of the chamber and began practising her spells again. First with Lightning, then with Void, fuelled by Sufina's generous vitality. "Gather-round!" Gunther Shultz, Paladin of Sydney, shouted over the sound of explosions ringing out in the training field. Bartlett had not only allowed them the privilege of using the arena exclusively; the principal also had set up a privacy screen. He too wanted a team that excelled in the Inter-High, for it would bring incredible boons for the public school, maybe even propelling them into the status of a Selective High School should they best the private academies. "Magus Shultz!" Whetu left the field and ran towards his idol. Gunther Shultz! Even in New Zealand, Gunther was a Mage of legend. "Whetu, good work." "Sah!" Whetu saluted. The girls came down one by one. Gunther's lips twitched. "Alright! Listen up!" Gunther told his students. "We're going to play a little game." The girls were already exhausted, but Whetu was keen for more. "It's called 'Beat Whetu'." Yue sniggered. "Wot?" Whetu spluttered out. "Why me?" "The aim is to Break Whetu's barrier. You get a Ten-second countdown. At five, you get rice. At six, you get Salads. At seven, you get mains. At eight, you get dessert." Paladin Shultz waited for the horror to sink in. "I once played this game with Alesia. She lost five kilos by the end of our month-long training. Instructor De Botton swears by it as a crash diet." The girls regarded one another. They turned to Whetu. "Do we get more than one go?" Debora asked. "Best of three." "How do I do this?" Elvia leapt up and down, waving her hand. "I can't attack!" "The punishment or reward is collective," Gunther pointed out. "Though Gwen, I would advise against using your Void element, if you know what's good for you." "How come?" Gwen asked, curiously narrowing her eyes. "Mr Tikitiki O Taranga isn't so easily defeated." Gunther grinned. The girls turned to the punamu Mage. "One sec gills, lemme get ready!" Whetu took a deep breath. "Shield Wall!" A semicircle dome of punamu instantly formed around Whetu, creating a protective barrier of jade. "Shape Stone!" The surface of the Punamu grew geometric, forming into little hexagonal shapes that bulged from the once smooth exterior. A lattice fabrication! Gwen felt impressed. An application of physics in the magical world? Who could have come up with such an idea? Was there someone, somewhere that practised material science through magic? Gunther noted Gwen's dismay. "That's Magister Hildenbrandt's signature Shield," Gunther revealed conspiratorially. "Don't think of trying to learn it from Whetu though, his Master was inspired by watching honey-bees build hives in her Tower's garden. Only her registered Apprentices can use the spell." "Resist Elements!" Whetu finished. "Alright, come at me bro," Whetu shouted from behind the barrier, his voice muffled by the layer of protection. "Give me everything you got." The girls looked at one another. "Alright, who goes first?" Debora asked. "Fireball!" Yue flicked a spot of flame towards the shield before Debora could finish, it struck the outer layer and erupted into a blossom of heat and death. In the next moment, fire dissipated, revealing a scorched shield that was flaked but otherwise undamaged. "Fuck, for real?" Yue marvelled at the shield. "A dent only?" There was then the sound of stones clinking into place. The shield was repairing itself. "Fuck!" Yue shrieked, firing off another four blasts of Scorching Ray. Without the kinetic force of the Fireball, the strikes did less than nothing, piercing only the surface layer of Whetu's punamu barrier. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen gestured with her finger, a beam of lighting shot toward Whetu, skidding across the stone and grounding itself. "Well, fudge." "My turn!" Debora summoned her Spirit and clad herself in sandstone. "Enhanced Strength! Magical Weapon! Haste! Jump!" Using a successive burst of self-buffs, Debra launched a flying kick. Upon striking the shield, she felt the satisfying crunch of the punamu below. She kicked again, feeling another layer collapse. Then, Debora used both hands as a hammer, hardening her fists before crushing the shield with the impressive force of a cyclopean hammer. Splinters of the stuff went everywhere, but still, she couldn't penetrate the shield. From outside the action, the others saw the shield rapidly replenish itself by shifting stones from the parts which remained undamaged. "Fuck!" Dobra cursed. Haste was a skill that required incredible physical capabilities. Having now exhausted her mana, Debora puffed her bronzed skin slick with sweat. "Well, that's about a minute and a half. You girls want to try again?" "Elvia, get ready, I am going to need a double dose after this," Gwen warned her battery pack. "Okay!" Elvia took a deep breath and readied herself to channel positive energy into her friend. "Whetu, I am going to use it, the thing I showed you before! Are you ready?" "Let me live!" Whetu shouted. "Void Bolt!" Gwen felt the vitality leaving her body as the corrosive energy surged through her conduits. A second later, a dark bolt struck Whetu's shield and bit into the hardened outer layer. There was a sound of shifting matter— then nothing. After only three of six layers of Pounamu, her bolt was spent. Gunther laughed heartily. "We have the same problem, Gwen! Our spells possess increasingly diminishing returns on subsequent targets. Against a multi-layer barrier, our mana cost is exponential! I hope you're learning from this!" "Cheeky Whetu!" Gwen turned to the girls. "Hit em with everything at once! Debora, rapid-fire Catapult! Yue! Swarm tactics for your basic Explosive Bolts! Elvia! Magic Missiles!" Whetu groaned. It took their combined power to whittle Whetu down. "Two seconds left." Gunther tsk-tsked with his tongue. "Guess no lunch, hmm?" The girls glared at Whetu. "No free passes." Gunther pointed out to Whetu. "Your very best. If you don't last five seconds, no lunch for you." Whetu moaned despairingly. "Shield!" The barrage continued. In the end, the girls managed to down Whetu after five seconds. The girls ate their meagre meals, Whetu ate his three courses meal while the girls received their just desserts. They stared at the plain, colourless rice balls. At least they had salt. "Whetu," Yue said innocently to their Abjurer. "Next time, prepare to die."

The blurring of days took on a life of its own. During the weekday, the girls worked their craft until their brains throbbed. On the weekend, when the party went their separate ways, Gwen visited the Tower. She was a regular now, a welcome distraction for the guards, who would snatch a few minutes of polite conversation with her. As a result, her reputation among the staff was excellent, and many enjoyed the company of an uncommonly pretty young lady visiting the Tower Master. The levitation platform stopped when it reached Henry's chamber. "See you guys next time." Gwen flashed the guards a sunny grin. Gwen parted, stepping into the Grot with the effortless grace of a dancer. "Mate." A guard felt his chest constrict. "I reckon she's into me." "…" His companion punched his mate in the arm. "Get back to work, stop day-dreaming, and work on your Fire Bolt." Gwen's lesson of the day was Dimension Door. Her primary objective was mastering spatial transfer. Her first exercise was to conjure a set of markers in a location Henry designated, marked by cute little shrubs where her body would theoretically manifest. Each "tag" consisted of a glowing crystal, and her job was to translocate four markers, forming a grid around Sufina's shrub. It had taken Gwen a few weekends to competently envelope the exact location of Sufina's designations with her Conjuration markers. Her progress, her Master had explained was aided by the fact that lightning spells operated on the same concept of spatial targeting. Next was the invocation of the door itself. Unlike volatile Evocation magic, Conjuration was a delicate operation. Any miscasts or lapse in manifesting the arcane phenomena would distort, then bruise the caster's a physical body coming through the immaterial. At best, she'd be bedridden for days; at worst, she could lose a limb. The maximum range of the Dimension Door was determined by the caster's Elemental Affinity, a trait that likewise affected casting speed, cost, and stability. "Could I try a Void Dimension door?" Gwen asked out of curiosity. "I have no idea." Henry sounded uncomfortable with the idea. "I am not sure how that would work, and I would not venture to experiment with your life on the line. Dimension Door works perfectly fine without elemental mana. Your Lightning merely lubricates the process by manifesting quickly and violently at the point of arrival." "What do you propose, Master?" Henry scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I knew a Salt Mage, like your brother, once," he replied. "His Dimension Door enabled a blast of Salt upon arrival, which acted as both defence and offence. That's what you're learning, and your Void would perhaps work in the same manner. Still, fleeing from certain doom and imminent harm, I would hardly advise on spending vitality and weakening yourself on arrival, not when you have a perfectly suitable element to spare." Gwen agreed, though she secretly wondered if she should experiment in private one day, especially with Elvia on hand to provide a layer of insurance. As the days went by, Gwen found herself increasingly proficient in achieving the efficiency and fluency of incantations necessary for combat teleportation. All that was left was to test out the spell under live fire and discover if she could maintain the same efficacy under the shadow of death. A few weeks later, the girls had finally managed to get Whetu's shield to collapsed before the four-second mark. Though they'd made up for their failures with large breakfasts and big dinners, a light lunch was nonetheless undesirable. Through the process, Gwen had tested several theories against the lattice shielding, finding that Whetu's unique skill responded exceptionally well to a wide-area barrage. Instead, the girls needed to concentrate on attacking the same area at a controlled cadence. "Yue, your incantation Blast Bolts takes four seconds, Debbie— your Catapult takes two seconds, I can time my Lighting Bolt to fire in conjunction per three seconds. Likewise, I can get Ariel to guide the Call Storm from the cloud into the same area, which can be followed immediately by my lightning bolt. Elvia, I want you to open up with a Magic Missile, fire one set per five seconds." "Right!" The girls affirmed. "Resist element!" Whetu refreshed his buff, looking worried. "Magic Missile!" From Elvia, a swarm of invisible missiles rocked the surface of the punamu shielding, splintering its surface. A Catapult followed, smashing into the shield and entering the second layer. Straightaway, the stone began to repair itself but was interrupted when an electric bolt lit the interior like a bulb. A spray of electricity-fuelled darts from a snarling Ariel further guided Gwen's Lightning Bolt into the crack, breaking the Pounamu apart. "Aarrgh!" Whetu leapt out of the way. "Shield Break! Shield Break!" The shield splintered, the energy contained from within shattering its outer crust and sending bits of greenstone splintering all over. The girls dived for cover, hiding behind their barriers as a wave of green fragments flew through the air. "Three and a bit, improving, but you need to work on a tighter formation, consider how well your spells synergise," Gunther advised. He called for their attention and began to lecture them. "Gwen's lightning has the least travel time and incredible penetration against unshielded targets, an absolute God-send against monsters, but for Mages, there are many ways to ward against electricity." "Earth and Water just happen to be two of the most common Mage Shields, and they both dissipate Lightning well. As such, Gwen, you need to focus on timing your spells. If you can get a single spell through a shield, it's all over. Either your enemies will deplete their raw mana shield, or they will be paralysed." Gunther then turned to Yue. "On the other hand, Yue, your fire is the most balanced element, good against both Monsters and Mages. The force of the blast, the heat of the flame, the AOE, all of it performs exceptionally well against critters and humans." "Fire Evocation's weakness, however— is travel time and trajectory. A throwaway shield can easily stop your blasts, or even do something like this— Whetu, perform a back-burn Shield on Yue's next spell." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Sure tin, boss." Whetu turned to Yue. "Do a Fire Blast. I show you buck-burn technique." Yue threw a Blast Bolt toward Whetu. Just as the flame left her fingers, a small semi-circle dome of Pounamu materialised. Yue's bolt caught the shield and erupted, sending out fragments of greenstone all over. Yue herself suffered the blast and fell on her buttocks, shielding her face while her hair singed. "Shit!" Yue screamed out, her mana shield springing to life and deflecting the fragments. "My hair!" "That," Gunther affirmed. "Is the back-burn method. Only Abjurers with an extreme affinity and large mana pools can cast a shield so far away from their own astral body. As you can see, it is a hard counter for you Evokers who like to AOE the battlefield carelessly." Elvia rushed over and dropped a Healing Word. Just as she was about to heal Yue however, a Shield of Pounamu sprung to life around Yue, cutting off Elvia's access to her touch spell. "Wha?!" Elvia likewise stumbled back, shocked by the sudden appearance of the barrier. "That is called a counter-shield," Gunther commented. "For the confident Abjurer who believes they can protect their teammates with spells to spare, "offensive" shields exist for battlefield control." He turned to his youngest sister-in-craft. "Gwen, what's the counter for such a thing?" Gwen considered the scene before her, her mind racing through a dozen scenarios. "Nail the Abjurer?" "Good!" Gunther applauded. "Only the Abjurer's "individual" shield can be extended in this way, which means if they send their barrier away, they become without protection. Of course, there is only one element here fast enough to catch them before they can retract the shield - Lightning." Gunther observed their faces. "Which is why many specialist Abjurers at the Magus level choose to further specialise in Conjuration or Illusion, giving them many more options for defence." Gwen felt understanding dawn upon her like a god ray piercing through the clouds. So that's why Richard was so keen on becoming a Conjurer-Abjurer. She considered the possibilities. As Ol'Dicky partnered with the alluring Lea, the possibilities he could create with Abjuration's suite of defensive skills was numberless. For instance, Undines are virtually immune to physical damage - what if Richard empowered her to use his spells so that he used his shield offensively, while Lea protected him? Such utility! An unstoppable, self-regenerating, sapient spirit of water that could disrupt incantations and dispel magical buffs; attack physically as well as discharge water bolts. Gwen smacked her lips. If Richard can do that, what of herself? She could shelter herself in a double-layered shield, while externally, Caliban, Ariel, the Faithful Hound, as well as a set of Dark Tentacles, took care of business. Perhaps she should invest in Summon Elementals as well, and once her beasties were out and about, she could also use Lightning Bolt. Her mana would be drained in under a minute, but she could engender an orgasmic orgy of destruction and mayhem! Gunther watched as Gwen chuckled to herself. "Gwen?" Gunther appeared worried when Gwen grin idiotically to herself. "Do you need to rest?" "I am fine!" She shook herself from her fantasies. "You were saying?" Gunther shook his head. "Looks like you're all tired. We'll try again tomorrow— Now. Go and get lunch." To break the monotony of training, Gwen took the opportunity to pass on some of her insights. "So, you compress the two sides of the Shielding, then fill the gap with motes of loose mana, like so," Gwen was explaining the non-newtonian shield technique to Yue and Elvia, but her friend could not comprehend the physics aspect. She was just considering if she should go down to the dorm kitchen and ask for potato starch and a container when Elvia slumped on her shoulder. Gwen stared. Evee's petite, pink lips twitched as she mumbled softly, an adorable rosebud against her ivory skin, as fragile as porcelain. "Aww, Evee got so bored of your theory-craft she fell asleep." Yue giggled, ebullient and mischevious. Gwen slowly cupped her arms around the petite girl, whose form was limp like a ragdoll's. "So cute!" Gwen brushed a finger across Elvia's cheek, parting the tiny slivers of invisible, silver-blonde hair. "She smells nice, too." Yue crawled into Gwen's bed and made herself comfortable. "Let's sleep like this," Yue suggested mischievously. "I heard that if you hug a positive element Mage at night, it revitalises your skin." "Really?" Gwen cooed. "Only one way to find out.' Yue grinned. The two girls sandwiched their healer in the middle and laid down to sleep on the cramped bed. "Good night." Yue yawned, then was gone from the world. "Yue?" Gwen demanded of the empty air. "Seriously?" Gwen allowed her breathing to slow, welcoming a restful night of sleep. With the extension of summer came the mornings bright and early. Gwen left Yue and Elvia to their beauty sleep and jogged out for a brisk morning run. Guiltily, Gwen had wondered if she should have called Debora - but ultimately chose her privacy over having company. When she had returned from the uphill slope, she became surrounded by gawking students, as though a Gwen shaped displacer beast had found being found in the inner-city. Students, hundreds of them, gawked at Gwen in her sweat-stained sportswear, engendering a riot of noise and jubilation. The school term. THE BLOODY SCHOOL TERM STARTS TODAY! "Oh, my God!" Having risen so early to jog up Ascension hill— a steep incline high enough to make a runner wish for death. She had run smack bang into the returning students. "Oh. My. God. It's Gwen Song!" someone called out. Gwen burned with embarrassment. "Goodness, she is tall." "She's the Lightning Mage right?" "I heard she's training for the Inter-High!" "Our shitty school is eligible?" "Someone said she's dating Debora?" "I heard it was Yue." "She's two-timing." "Ice Queen." "Bitch." "Whore!" It was time to go. "Expeditious Retreat," Gwen muttered under her breath, then tore through the crowd as a blur, leaving behind nought but a few wayward sparks. The crowd stared. "Wasn't that a Transmutation spell?" Someone asked the general assembly. "Isn't she an Evoker?" Despite the false start, training continued, heedless of the academic term. "Here it comes!" Alesia incanted, her spell forming faster than Gwen could see. "Fire Ball!" "Dimension Door!" Gwen teleported behind Alesia just as the blossom of fire erupted on the field. "Wall of Fire!" Alesia following through; flowing from one spell to another without seemingly any effort nor delay. "Dimension Door!" Gwen gritted her teeth and teleported again, consecutively casting the spell was a significant drain on her mind. "Spell Fatigue" it was called, overtaxing one's brain caused dizziness and at worst, mana burn. "Flaming Hands!" Alesia spun without looking, letting loose a gout of flame a dozen meters in length, about three times the average range of a Flaming Hand spell. "Shield!" Gwen couldn't manage another Dimension Door immediately, so she switched to a defensive barrier. Against Alesia, her barrier instantly dissolved. "Dimension Door!" Her mental cooldown was over. Gwen reappeared some twenty meters away, then hurled her breakfast. "Looks like three's ya limit, Tiger." Alesia rested a hand on her hip. "Wish I was a Conjurer. Such convenience." "You have your Djinn form, and you can fly," Gwen pointed out. "Give it a few years, and you'll be able to fly and teleport," Alesia returned. "You better remember how hard I trained you when that day comes. Tell the Press and the world that without Alesia de Botton, there would be no Gwen Song, Magister of all Magic." Gwen laughed, feeling her mental stress diffuse. "Alright, I think I am good, shall we go again?" "Whoa?" Alesia raised a flawless brow. "Already? It's been what, a minute? You sure?" "Yeah, I am sure." Gwen felt no particular fatigue from the consecutive incantations. "Master did a good job teaching me." "Hmm…" Alesia thought about it, but she didn't relish the mental strain of thinking too deeply about something that was probably beyond her ken. "If you're confident, then try to dodge this— Flame Strike!" "Dimension Door!" Three months may seem like a long time on the calendar, but time had a way of fleeing from one's notice. More than once, Gwen would awake with confidence that it was Monday, only to find that it was Thursday. Then, as sudden as it was unexpected, the training was done. The preliminaries for the Inter-High were upon them. Yet, there was no news of an invitation. Gwen's Team had heard nothing about their enrollment in the Inter-High. When questioned by her other team members, Gwen instantly suspected Alesia. "Alesia, I need to ask you something," Gwen Messaged Alesia, her voice full of wary suspicion. "Have you submitted our application to the Inter-High competition board?" "The what?" Alesia replied, her voice full of puzzlement. "What application? When I participated, I just showed up!" Gwen's blood suddenly ran cold. "Alesia... no!"

"Alesia, we don't have a participation slot, we're qualifying for one," Gwen explained carefully. "The big man even told us so, you are our instructor, and we can't apply without your written consent and appeal." "I thought Gunther was taking care of that?" Alesia asked innocently. "He usually does." "Alright, wait up, I'll call Gunther." Gwen closed her Message Spell and inputted the glyph for Gunther, citing an emergency. "Gwen, you shouldn't be calling me inside work hours." "Alesia forgot to apply for the special provision entry." "Impossible, I made sure she did, I had her sign the form. All she had to do was send it out to the committee." "She said we just had to show up." There was the silence on the other side of the Message spell, followed by a deep sigh like someone was pondering the meaning of life and had found it wanting. "I'll call Alesia, hold on." Gwen waited, twiddling her thumbs and dangling her long legs back and forth to offset her anxiety. Ding! "Gwen, are you there?" "Gunther! So what's the deal?" "Alesia, you tell 'em." Alesia cut into the conversation. "Sorry Gwen," her sister-in-craft sounded like a puppy who's just been told off for shitting on the lawn. "I'll make it up to you guys! I'll fix it! I know a way for you guys to get an invitation." "It's alright, Alesia." Gwen tried to sound untroubled, but she was just as annoyed as Gunther. Alesia's a grown woman for God's sake. She's almost thirty! If Alesia weren't an engine of destruction, she would probably be taken advantage of, a lot. "So, there's an old rule we can exploit," Alesia continued with a more hopeful tone. "I am pretty sure that's how I got in last time. What you need to do is challenge a school that had a team in the top 8 last year, and if you can defeat them in the 1v1, 3v3 and 5v5— best out of three, you can take their seeded position in the tournament." "Gunther?" Gwen asked. It seemed a rather dubious scenario. "It's an old custom, and Alesia was the only one who had exploited it in the last two decades. It was implemented as a boast by the Greater Public Schools. They wanted to show the commoners that they were superior to any government-funded school." "What's the likelihood that someone would accept this challenge? Can they decline?" Gwen inquired. "They can, and therein lies in the problem," Gunther replied. "You have to make them an offer they can't refuse." "Crystals? Spells? Favours?" Gwen asked, thinking of the scale on the back of her neck. "Rare Magical items?" "Perhaps, but unlikely. These schools have deep pockets. I am talking something more concrete." "Like?" Gwen asked quizzically, premonition tinging her spine. She was getting very good at detecting trouble when it came to herself. "Like a sixteen-year-old girl who can tap into three schools of magic," Alesia interjected. "We need to offer you up, Gwen. If we lose, you join that school and become their show pony." "I'll have to leave Blackwattle?" Gwen apprehensively measured the scenario. "No way." "At worst." Gunther's voice was emotionless and rational. "At worst you might be compelled to be apprenticed to a Magus of the School. Of course, our Master won't let that happen, but it'll be a messy settlement. After all, who would willingly let you go?" "She just has to win, easy peasy," Alesia said with a nonchalance that rivalled an invitation to coffee. "Just?" Gwen's tone was such that even half a city away, Gunther could imagine her rolling her eyes. "Pick a school Gwen can crush, Gunther." "Hmm…" Gunther hummed. "Well, our Master's Rival, Magister Ferris, is the sponsor for Rosebay. If you're going to make an enemy out of a whole school of well-connected Mages, you may as well dig deeper into a hole that we'd dug already." "Wouldn't that piss off this Magister Ferris?" Gwen sounded suspicious and sceptical. "Oh yes, gloriously." Alesia could be heard clapping. "That woman's a real prickly pear." "Gunther, translation please," Gwen implored her brother-in-craft. "Ferris is from the grey faction, the ones who believe that we should be mingling with the Magical Races, trading with them, learning from them. She's one of the Ten who supports 'organ' trading for Magical components, like cores, spirits, 'unicorn horn,' you know the type." "Since Alesia disgraced Magister Walken in the past, our Factions have always shared an antagonistic relationship." "Antagonism?" "Yes. The Greys believe, wrongly of course, that the future lies in the Wildlands, that we should abandon the whole idea of human enclaves and join the sapient humanoids who live in the Zones." "Wow." Gwen puzzled her head. Was co-existence so bad? "Almost a crazy idea, I mean, sure, most of the Mages survive. Then what? We leave billions of NoMs, each potentially the progenitor of one more magical bloodline, to die? To be eaten by the monsters? Hell, where would you be, Gwen? You'd be dead or sold off before you even awakened." Gwen recalled that her Master had indeed spoken sometimes in the past of his frustration with the so-called Grey Faction, whose operations included the Grey Markets. After her incident, Gwen recalled hearing from Gunther that Blackheath was likely a supply point for the Greys. "Right, so we go to Rosebay, and?" "Alesia will set it up," Gunther replied confidently. "If she's good for one thing, it's stirring up a hornet's nest." "Hey!" Alesia uttered sulkily. "Don't screw this up, Allie," Gunther warned her. "If you do, Master would have to use the Tower's influence to sponsor Gwen's team directly. That would be a significant detour to our intended goal." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. "Alright, alright. Sheesh." Alesia closed her Message spell. "Keep an eye on her, Gwen. I trust you more than Alesia." Gunther likewise terminated his Message spell. Gwen bit her lips. Offer her up as a prize for a bet? She supposed it wasn't any worse than their original scenario. After all, she couldn't afford to lose a single battle. While waiting on Alesia's negotiation abilities, Gwen mediated for the rest of the afternoon. The more she knew about this world, the more she resented its dystopian roots. As a sterling example, her courses entirely omitted information about tier 1 cities. Instead, "capitals" were noted offhandedly as unattainable paradises. Additionally, Richard had mentioned something called Contribution Credits, a merit system that operated as magical currency in the Tier 1 cities, but her textbooks appeared wholly uninterested in such a thing. It was in consulting with her Master that she knew a whole system of merit existed with the Commonwealth's Towers. Alesia's call came through two hours later. "I'll pick you up in the Firebird. We're going to Rosebay to see the Headmistress, dress up." Alesia abruptly hung up, as rash and fiery as ever. Was it the influence of her fire affinity? Gwen wondered. The bestiary had stated that the flame Djinn was indeed proud, arrogant, easily driven by impulse. Gwen didn't like the detour, but she did prefer the issue resolved between themselves than ask her Master to throw his influence around. Gwen dug through her outfits for something that would go well with her Mary-Janes. She dug through her mother's stockpile. She felt a little guilty for still using them, but waste not, want not— if anything she couldn't afford to splurge on luxury goods right now. To her surprise, she did find something that was serendipitously appropriate. Soon, she re-emerged in a pleated-cady minidress, a long-sleeved white blouse, and a ribbon to tie together the formality. Gwen examined herself in the wardrobe mirror. White blouse, black mini, dark, polished shoes, she looked the very picture of a blue-blooded young lady. Gwen ventured below, delighting fellow students with a vision of class and grace. They came to greet her, some bravely asking her questions about the Lightning element while others gawked. VROOOM! A sudden thrum in the air signalled the arrival of Alesia's Firebird, so red it hurt one's eyes. Vaucluse was twenty-minutes away. "We're going to have a meet and greet with Mildred Stone, the Headmistress of Rosebay." Alesia stepped on the gas and weaved through the traffic. "I am sorry about this, Gwen, I was careless." "I am sure it'll work out in the end," Gwen comforted her friend and sister-in-craft. "Just as you said, I just have to win, right? That was the plan from the very beginning anyway." "True that." Alesia blasted past a truck. The lorry driver honked. Past the bridge, the girls turned into the coastal road and watched the scintillating blue sea beyond the headland. It stretched magnificently, kissing a shimmering glow on the horizon that was the Shield Barriers. "Beautiful, hey?" Alesia asked. "Murderous mermen aside, of course." "Yeah," Gwen replied, her eyes buffeted by the wind. The breeze, the salty scent, the brine— she was reminded of her old life, of lazy Sundays by the sea. "Rosebay isn't the best in terms of the qualities of its Spellcraft, but it has a long and established history of being an incubator for elites. Magister Irene Ferris herself was a graduate of the school and once served as its Dean. She still sits on the school's board, despite occupying one of the ten seats on the Tower Council." "I see." "When we see the Mistress, you'll need to demonstrate Conjuration, Evocation and Transmutation. We're keeping Void under wraps. Let's not get them too excited." Gwen nodded. She knew. The ocean view persisted until they reached Rosebay. Rosebay Private Girl's Catholic School perched atop a cliffside moulded by Transmuters into a three-tier escarpment overlooking a two-seventy degree view of the ocean. The primary structure of the school itself was a cathedral with twin spires that rose into the dying sky like lances. On top, twin pinions fluttered through the wind, decorated with a scarlet rose on an ultramarine backdrop. Alesia's Firebird coupe turned into the entrance and slowed. The powerful engine-cores thrummed as they drifted towards the interior. "Your business?" A greying security guard inquired respectfully. "De Botton, here for Headmistress Stone." "Of course, one second." The guard fired off a Message spell. They watched him receiving his orders, nodding and bowing toward thin air. "I'll let you through now. There'll be someone waiting for you at the church." Alesia swung the car toward the cathedral. It was even more impressive close-up, towering above the duo with its soaring gothic visage, its architraves shaped with arcane patterns of warding. A nun awaited them at the side entrance, a skinny, older woman with a face like a skull, covered from head to toe in a penguin habit. She looked at Alesia's flaming red dress distastefully, lingering on her cleavage with a twist of her lips. Toward Gwen, her attitude was kinder. Though Gwen's dress was short, it was couture and matt black. "I am Sister Teresa. You may come with me. The Headmistress awaits you in her study." She immediately turned and began to move, expecting the two to follow without question. The trio climbed the revolving stairs, with Gwen noting that the cathedral was rebuilt into four levels, split into a stratum of classrooms, prayer rooms, staff rooms, and offices. From the fourth floor, they looked out through enchanted windows that appeared as stained motifs of the Christian Saints from the outside, but served as unobstructed windows from within, giving them a breath-taking ocean and the barrier beyond. "In here." The Mother Superior knocked twice and opened the door for them. Alesia entered without a word. Within, they met the unfriendly eye of a thin, gaunt-faced woman with silver-grey iris. "Magus de Botton, always a pleasure." "Magus Stone, likewise a pleasure." The two of them exchanged praises and pleasantries. "So, this is the prize student that you speak of, the promised protege. Gwen Song, is it?" Stone motioned a hand toward Gwen casually. "Stand up, honey, let us take a look at you." Gwen stood and walked before the heavy mahogany table. Magus Stone put on a pair of spectacles. Gwen noted that they were faintly glowing with motes of Divination magic. "Take a turn. Let's see what you're made of." She felt like she was a prized Bullock put up for sale, now being inspected for quality and pedigree. She spun slowly, gracefully, keeping her hands by her sides to tuck in her hem. "My, you are certainly a lovely young thing." Magus Stone tapped her fountain pen against some parchments on the table. "Please manifest if you are able." Gwen began with Evocation, opening the Sigil and producing an orb of lightning. "Tier 4 Lightning! Impressive," Stone commented. Gwen then conjured a Warding Bolt orb, which hovered as a glowing orb that orbited around Gwen before eventually dissipating. "There's Conjuration, beautiful." The woman's voice ran dry. Gwen extended a hand and produced the whip of lightning. She cracked it against the air, sending out a shower of sparks. "And Transmutationm" Stone uttered, her voice full of wonder and awe. "I must apologise, Alesia, when you'd told me, I'd assumed you were up to your old tricks." Gwen curtsied. "So, what's the catch?" Stone asked Alesia suddenly. "She's one in a million. I've never even heard of this level of talent. Why offer her to us for something as trivial as the Inter-High? It isn't the International University challenge, you know. It's just a regional competition for the kids." "There is no catch. We want your seeded invitation to the Inter-high." Alesia shrugged innocently, her big blue eyes glinting with earnestness. "That's all. Alternatively, you can give it to us, and Gwen shall remember you kindly a few decades down the track." "OR— Give me the girl, and I'll sign it over right now," Stone offered. "No can do." Alesia smirked, "that would be beside the point, we've got a team and a school already anyway." "What if I said no? We're not having a contest?" "Nothing. There's absolutely nothing I can do. Except maybe ask Lilith's, or Lakeview, or any other girl's academies or co-ed schools with a seeded position. Hell, why not ask a selective school? There's three in the top 8 after all. One was even champion one year." "That was your year, no?" Stone breathed out harshly from her nostrils, her voice full of disdain. "I'd hardly call that a fair contest. A battle veteran from the Coral Sea Campaign against school children? I still have no idea why you qualified." "Heehee." Alesia chuckled. Magus Stone measured Alesia, trying to read her face. "Is Gwen connected to your employer? Magister Kilroy?" "Gwen, you tell her." Alesia gave Gwen a nudge in the gut. "Yes, the Magister has been kind to me," Gwen spoke the half-truth. "Hmm." Stone paused. "Master Kilroy is alright if Master Ferris wanted to Apprentice Gwen?" "No," Alesia spoke truly. "He would be beyond livid." Stone smiled. "Alright, we agree to your terms." Stone signed the agreement in front of her, then turned it over, and slid the page across the table. Alesia signed, then finally Gwen also signed. Their signatures glowed golden for a split second. "That's submitted to the Tower now, no cooling off period." Stone cunningly smirked. "I hope you don't mind that I was a little hasty in affirming our contractual obligations." "Not at all." Alesia stood from her chair; her grin split from ear to ear. "I heard that Rosebay has one of the best medical facilities in the area, is that true?" "Indeed," Stone affirmed. "Good." Alesia motioned for Gwen to follow. She stopped at the door, her own blue eyes coldly meeting Stone's steel-grey orbs. "I'd make sure your best Clerics are on hand in two days. Gwen?" "Yes, Alesia?" "We're going."

Good Morning, neophytes ~ I am your instructor, the one and only Magus Alesia de Botton! _[blows kiss]_ Today, we are going to go over the basic aspects of Magic and Spellcraft. First, the schools of Magic courtesy of D20 Open gaming and the Open Gaming License:: **Evocation** is a school that manipulate energy. **IT IS THE BEST.** It is also the most commonly awakened school of Spellcraft. Due to this fact, we become the mainstay of the citizen-soldiers, wielding spells of fire, earth, water, and more exotic elements such as lightning or radiance. As Evokers grow, we become more specialised in their elemental affinity, taking up specialist equipment and enchantments, attunement and contracts. In the popular eye, the Evoker is the archetype Mage, the spell slinging, fireball blasting Sorcerer of yore, tapping into and drawing limitless power from the elemental planes. _Yea for Evokers!_ Next are **Abjuration** casters. These guys weave spells that protect, block or banish. An Abjurer is a common but highly sought after profession. They were the mainstay of the protective barrier shells that shielded Human cities. An Abjurer possesses the special ability to also utilises restoration spells and a number of AOE combat buffs. Specialists in this field typically contracted elementals of earth, ice, and water, with exceptional individuals possessing more exotic quasi-elementals. **Conjuration** is a school that materialises creatures or materials for the Mage, also called a Summoner. A Conjurer is a one-man army when trained to a sufficient tier of proficiency. Through contracting magical creatures, Conjurers gain life-long companions that grow with the Summoner in power. Due to this advantage, it is not uncommon for Summoners to become several magnitudes more powerful than Mages of equal tier. The disadvantage of Conjuration is the persistent mana drain caused by most of its sustained effect spells. Certain Conjurers choose to focus upon the summoning of items or beings. These valuable individuals are responsible for the Teleportation Circles around the cities. **Divination** is a school that reveals information, highly prized for their cognisant abilities in detection and foretelling. Many diviners go on to become telecommunication specialists, becoming key intelligence and strategist operatives that served a number of roles. Other schools of Divination focused on disaster deterrence, by reading the threads of time and fate. Despite their lack of offensive capabilities, it is said that the most influential Magi on the U.N Security Council is the Oracle of the Acropolis. Though the Divination school has no preference for elemental afflictions, it is a school that synergies well with subsequent studies of other schools. Many Diviners go on to become Magus or Magister. Remember, if you are caught using Divination for nefarious purposes like spying on girl's showers, you'll go to prison and get assaulted! The school of **Enchantment** remains the most difficult and expensive to train of all schools. Capable of imbuing items and buildings with protection, strengthening items and imbuing persist phenomena - enchanters are essential to humanity’s existence. The world's most successful manufatoriums are all operated by skilled Enchanters. Unlike regular Mages, enchanters seek specifically the mastering of additional schools such as Transmutation or Abjuration for the creation of magical items. A dangerous school within-a-school of Enchanters are those whose abilities allow them to control, manipulate, and glamour the minds of others. These Mages are closely watched by government forces, and the misuse of mind-altering effects on others could lead to stasis imprisonment or banishment. **Illusion** is the school of Mirage, the altering of perceptions to create false visions. Many Illusionists go on to become involved in espionage if they choose the path of the militant. Many others, however, have chosen to be involved in the media, creating spectacles for adoring audiences, crafting impossible scenarios, and even becoming superstars in their own right for their creativity and passion. Illusion spells which deal damage attack the mind directly, creating what is known as psychic attacks. Likewise, aftereffects vary by spell and intent. **Transmutation** is an unusual school in that it changes the caster and the objects they touch, manipulating the properties in powerful ways. Yours truly is a Transmuter herself. In the greater world, Transmuters become builders, architects and creators, working hand-in-glove with Enchanters. In combat, some transmuters choose to specialise in manipulating life itself, changing plants, creatures, and even themselves to become deadly and proficient in the art of war. It is said that Transmuters posses the most versatile school of all, and enjoyed the most lauded status after that of Evokers. As I am both a Transmuter and an Evoker, my Fire spells enjoy the benefit of being shaped! Whilst my Transmutation spells have the power of my Evocation blasts! _Huzzah!_ Then we have Necromancy. _[Shudders]_ The dreaded School of **Necromancy** was banned after WWI following the Geneva Convention. Currently, the school is studied only by sects that are authorised by the U.N, having proven that the study of souls and the afterlife is intimately connected to beliefs of faith, culture, and religion. The irony of the matter is that Necromancy is most likely the most ancient school of magic that exists. Dating back to the Egyptian Pharaohs, in an age when man first uncovered magic. As such, it is more specific to say that the summoning, raising, and animation of the death is strictly forbidden, as much of the world was turned into ash and cinder following The Great War with the No-Life Kings of Middle Europe. So remember kids! Stay away from Necromancy! Life Drain, not even once! Finally, other schools of magic likely exist but were out of reach of the common man. These include various forms of item deification, ancestral worship, old world shamanism, naturalism, animalism, and so forth. By the same measure, rumours about of humans learning the magic of monsters, magical beings, and demi-humanoids. These are seldom taught or learned in Frontier Human cities though. Now, let's look at where all your mana goes to get super charged into spells. After activation by one's Sigils, the pure mana taps into the Elemental Gates within your body - everybody has one - to manifest the phenomenon. Usually, everyone has just one element, certainly, this is true for 99% of the Mages out there, but you never know what you'll run into out there in the wild, wide world. Hence - the elements: The **Primary Elements** of the Material Plane are what astrologists suggest the material plane is made from. It is the very stuff of existence itself, existing in perfect harmony. It is suggested that when a Mage is attuned to a certain element, it is because that element is present within their body. To be perfectly honest, we in the tier 2 cities don't have too much interest in that kind of existential theory - we're busy just trying to survive. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Oh, what's that? Am I from a tier 1 city? Of course not, who am I, Gunther Shultz? What's that? Did I go to university? Yeah, I did. I went to University of hard knocks called the Coral Sea War! How's that for a graduation? Look, stop interrupting me, let me continue. _[Pouts sulkily, plays with hair before flitting it backwards with a flourish]_ The **Positive** Plane is obviously a place of life, it is where the healers draw their power to heal and mend your broken bodies. The undead is afraid of this energy, and we should be too. Too much positive power without the ability to channel it and you know what you get? Strange mutations, cancer, weird tumours, its a pretty dangerous element. There's always danger in having too much of a good thing, just like foie gras. **Negative** Energy is the other side of the coin, where positive is life, negative is death. The Undead are closely tethered to this plane, drawing their undead lifeforce from this domain. When creatures with life use energy from this plane, they suffer what we call negative drain - or just straight up loss of lifeforce and vitality. In the old days, the Mage world saw this as just another source of power. After WWI, we knew better. There are no elements with a worse rep. Trust me. The next four are common so I shall take the liberty of glossing over them. **Earth** is one of the most useful and common elements seen in Human Mages, it is the element responsible for most of our industry, mining for Mana Crystals, building our cities, and so on. The **Air** element is as it suggests, a place of air, space, the stuff we breathe. **Fire** is another common element Mages manifest in. After all, is it not said that Fire was stolen from the Gods themselves? Well, I certainly felt like I stole something from the Gods. With fire, man has created many useful tools and beaten back the tides of monstrous creatures. Finally, **Water** is just as important as Air, after all, did not the Magi John Baptiste proclaim the Waters of Life in Revelations 21:6? Of the four core elements, Earth and Fire are most common, whilst Air is the rarest of primary elements. Water is exceptionally common among coastal communities. Next, we have the Parallel Elements of Nature, also know as Para-elementals. Of these, the most common element is **Ice,** a useful element that creates immense drops in temperature - being a combination of Air and Water. Ice is capable of slowing your enemies, as well as providing good defence and offence capabilities. It's pretty much useless against someone like me so I don't really know what it really does, that's what they tell me anyway. **Ooze** is a stranger element, exceptionally rare and virtually non-existent outside of, especially isolated bloodlines. Ooze Mages are specialists, pending on their school, with spells that focus on entrapment, debilitation, poison, and other strange and mysterious effects. A speciality of the Ooze Conjurer is the ability to summon the creatures that exist within that element plane - oozes. It is said that some oozes are virtually indestructible except by Mages tiers above their summoner's levels. Ooze, if you were wondering, is the combination of Water and Earth. I had to fight an ooze Mage once and let me tell you, Oozes, people, you get 'em hot enough and they boil all the same. The **Magma** Mage is truly unique indeed, being a rare combination of Fire and Earth. Exceptionally rare, these Mages are typically found where there are volcanic islands or fjords. We still know very little about this class of Mages, but sufficient to say, their power combines the physical prowess of the Earth Mage, with the damage potential of the Fire Mage. Truly a power that is frightening to the extreme. Man, what I'd give to be a Magma Mage, the best of both worlds! Finally, we have **Smoke,** the marriage of Air and Fire. This is an element that is said to only exist in legend. In fact, in all my years, I have only known a single Smoke Mage. We really don't know what they specialise in. One can assume that whatever they do, we'll know cuz they vape. Now, let us discuss the stranger elements of what occurs when the Positive and Negative elements interfere with the Primary Elements. These are the rarest and most coveted abilities of sorcery and Spellcraft. One element with has rarety on par with Magma is the quasi-element of **Mineral.** This is a distinct source of power that takes its capabilities from the form of mineral that the caster is attuned to. As such, it creates extremely distinct abilities that differ from Mage to Mage. A Mage capable of summoning volcanic stones, for instance, would create obsidian barriers which are brittle and fragile, but by the Gods, their offensive power is nothing to scoff at, capable of shredding General class magical creatures to shreds. What's that? You over there, what did you say? Alesia, have you ever seen, you know, a Diamond Mage? I am fairly sure they don't exist, but if they do, they would be my best friend. Then we have the power of Zeus himself, the mainstay of Thorian Priests of Norway fame. **Lightning!** The power to harness the most concentrated force in nature. Existing between the Air and Positive Elemental planes, Lighting is the most penetrative of all element due to its electrical nature. It can cause stun and paralysis as well, in addition to the power to manifest instantly and deliver its payload in a fraction of a second. Lightning Mages are preferably Evokers, Conjurers or Transmuters for it is truly wasted on the other schools. Likewise, when Positive and Water meet, you get **Steam.** This is a rare element. Beyond rare. In fact, only a handful of Mages were recorded as having tapped into a Goldilocks' zone where two elements can meet in harmony. What does it do? I must confess that I have no bloody idea. There are worse ways to die than by scalding water so hot that it melts the flesh. Trust me, you can ask Yue the in the front row what happened to the Murlocs. Finally, we have the element that belongs to Mr Shultz, the **Radiant** power of Fire and Positive energy. To be frank, this is the power of Light. In theory, it should be useless, too weak to be used offensively, to dispersed to be used defensively. It takes a special Mage, therefore, to change something so immaterial into a powerful projection of power. For my husband to be, he has found a way to concentrate it's power using a combination of Schools, refracting it's power a hundred times over. What's the spell called? That's a secret, the ones who'd see it are all dead now. You there, what did you say? Gunther ain't my husband? Well, you want to repeat that? Those who had are all dead now too. Alright, alright, take a joke. Sheesh. Finally, there are the big Negative Quasi-elementals. **Ash,** a power of fire that rains corrosive ash and dark flames. The most destructive element which exists of all the powers. Ash Mage rarely live long. They are said to be bred especially through sorcery and magic, tortured beings whose every summons of the powers of Ash wreck their bodies with unbelievable pain. We've never seen them amongst humanity. The Demi-humans however, such as the orcs occasionally throw up a rare-spawn that has this power. If you see one, run. Which brings us to **Dust,** a strange element indeed. Dust is probably the most stable of the Negative Quasi-elements, next to Salt. It doesn't have any offensive capabilities of its own but enjoys the same corrosive ability drain as Ash. The most annoying part of fighting a Dust Mage is their ability to mute all your elemental damage. It consumes fire, water, air, lightning, even ash. It is said to be the most powerful Abjuration skill next to Mineral Mages. **Salt** is likewise a very stable Negative element, with the additional ability to form into a range of crystalline shapes. It's capable of dealing extreme damage to Slimes and Oozes, as well as an assortment of creatures composed mostly of water - which includes us. The desiccation caused by the Salt Mage direction draws out elemental water from the bodies of its enemies. For a full-sized human? A few direct hits and its all over. Lastly, we have the rarest and strangest of all elements. **Void.** Truly, I have never seen it myself, only ever heard it in history lessons by my master. What does it represent? Think of it as a place of vast, unending darkness, where strange, forgotten things lurk in the spaces that are darker than black, always hungering, hungering - there's no good, no evil, no light, just a place of nothingness that desires to be made manifest in the material plane, to not be so... empty. Well, that's about all we have time for. Next time, we can hopefully pick up our sociology lesson on the dynamics of the Mage world and the NoM world. _[Winks, pulls back hair senusously]_ Class dismissed!

"Wap! Wap! Wap!" A kookaburra slammed a lizard into the gum-bark, snapping its spine and tenderising its flesh before swallowing. A breeze followed, casting dappled shadows that swayed rhythmically to the thrill of cicadas. The occasional bird of paradise hopped from wattle to wattle, stripping the brushes of their sweet nectar between the walled sanctuary of the native garden. Abruptly, the sound of wheels crunching loose gravel silenced the serenity. The kookaburra looked up from its search for skinks to see a young man in a wheelchair, pushed by an uncommonly pretty maid and accompanied by another. "Kooo-kuku-ku-ku-kua-aaaah!" the butcher bird thrilled, then took flight into the blue. The chair-bound young man shot the bird a look of annoyance. A tendril of near-invisible dust lashed out, snaring the panicked kookaburra. Its feathers instantly moulted and fell, leaving behind a skeletal frame that fell hopping, obscene and naked, to the ground. The young man chuckled. The pretty maid who pushed the wheelchair sighed, then placed a hand upon the young's shoulder. A surge of positive energy flowed between them. "You should control yourself, Young Master." "Why?" The Young Master coughed to clear this throat. "That's why you're here, ain'tcha?" "Indeed, but as a favour to the Mistress, and only to the Mistress." "Bah!" the Young Master scoffed. "You're such a prude, take me in, it's almost time for our conference." A few turns throughout the native garden and the landscape changed to that of blue lawns overshadowed by a colonial manor that soared, white and dazzling against a vista of Sydney's tablelands. "Sir." A guard, grey-haired and severe in his black suit even in the Australian summer, bowed his head smartly as the wheelchair approached. His eyes lingered upon the Young Master, feeling such resentment at the young man's suffering that his moustache shook. Almost nine months ago, the young Master had teleported into the Manor, mortally wounded, missing both his right limbs and a portion of his face. Even the best healers the Master called up was unable to restore the lost flesh, coax the stump to regrow its appendage. It was as though the essence of the Young Master's limbs had ceased to exist— or that they had never existed in the first place. The young Master himself, likewise, had become a recluse; no longer the sunny, wonderful boy that the old guard had raised - a young man who joked and laughed and hunted when the mood caught him. Now he seemed a husk of the man he used to be. They had begged the young Master for knowledge of what had occurred, but all his attempts were rebuffed. It was all so strange. "Going to the chamber, Sir?" "Yes, Burham, get me fitted before we go in. I need to appear my very best before the Mistress." "Sir.' Burham reached in gently and picked up the young man from the wheelchair as though he were a babe, cradling the young Master in his arms. In a moment, his eyes moistened. The Young Master, a Dust Mage, a rare bloodline, the scion of a peerless lineage - now reduced to this. Who could have done such a thing? Who could dare? He wanted more than anything to find out, to give his Young Master satisfaction. "No need to be so sentimental, Burham." the Young Master comforted his servant. "Of course not, Young Master." Burham straightened his back and took the young man toward the armoury. There was a long oaken table there, atop which was a set of prosthetic arm and leg, both right-handed and footed. Burham placed the young man upon the table and buckled on the arm and leg, wrapping the soft leather straps around his waist and shoulders. He then pulled open a hidden draw set within the table, retrieving mana stones the size of duck-eggs, each worth at minimum four thousand HDM crystals. The cores clinked into place, and the limbs whirled into life. The Young Master sat on the table and moved his new Dwarf-forged mithril-limbs. They possessed no sensation, of course, they were not his own, but at least he would regain mobility. Slowly, he felt the mana from the stones mingle with that of his own body, the limbs becoming more responsive as the lag between command and movement synchronised. "Dress me," he commanded. Burham materialised a Mage's robe stitched in the archaic style and pulled it carefully over the Young Master. A belt and a few adjustments later, the young man was once again a handsomely representative of the arcane brotherhood in its glorious yesteryears. How like his great-grandfather he seemed, like the very painting come to life. "Let's go." They exited the chamber and were joined by the two maids, making for the basement level. Upon reaching the heavily warded bronze door, they paused. The Young Master placed his hand upon the surface and incanted some indistinct commands, simultaneously drawing secrete glyphs upon its surface. The door yawned open ponderously, revealing the soft glow of arcane lights within. The group moved forward, but one of the maids stopped at the entrance. It was the youngest one, the one who'd stayed silent the whole while. "Young Master," she begged, her voice choking. "Please, I can't. I am not allowed." "Nonsense!" the Young Master said kindly. "You're as much a part of this as any of us." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Please," the girl begged, her eyes wild with panic. "I don't want to. I— just— Pl-Please let me serve you in other ways." The older maid, the one who had spoken earlier with such disdain for the Young Master, impatiently pushed her into the room. The doors boomed close behind them. The young maid shivered and could say nothing. She followed silently. "Thank you, Nephres." "The Mistress is a busy woman," Nephres replied with a voice short on patience. Nephres ventured into the room and activated the conjuration portal. The silver conjuration glyphs of the chamber glowed with a fierce light. A dark hole formed within the centre of the magical formation, spewing out a thrashing volume of strange, eel-like vermin. Half serpentine, half insect, wholly faceless and utterly alien, the strange creatures piled upon one another until they formed into the shapely form of a cowled, female Mage. From underneath the low hanging cowl, all they could see were a pair of shallow red lips on pale white skin, so pale it gave the impression of fresh snow painted with a dash of sanguine blood. There was a sensuality about it all that made their audience hold their breath. An aura unique to Void flooded the chambers. Burham felt his old blood pumping, and Edgar felt his young body engorge and broil with strange desires. Nephres moaned. "I commend you on the recovery of the Shielding Core, Edgar." Her voice was distant and echoing, giving the impression that she was speaking from somewhere otherworldly. "As you wish, Mistress, I live to serve." "How fare you with my gifts? Have the artificers performed their duty to satisfaction?" "They have, my Lady, I feel as good as a new man with his limbs wholly intact." The female figure seemed satisfied with that response. "You have grown, Edgar. I was looking forward to chiding you for exacting zealous revenge and endangering our designs, but it appears you have unexpectedly heeded my advice." She turned to the older, more comely maid. "Nephres, how is his condition?" "Adequate, my Lady. His affinity has improved, in fact," Nephres admitted sulkily. The Mistress was showing too much deference for the boy. "I am pleased with both of you then." Both Nephres and Edgar felt overwhelmed with motherly affection. "We live to serve." They both bowed. "How is our other wayward child, the one without a face of his own?" Edgar tensed. He could feel cold sweat beginning to drench his back. The Lady had asked for information on Faceless as well three months ago, but Edgar had achieved nothing of note. It was as though his partner had evaporated into thin air. "I fear we have no news," Edgar confessed, awaiting the inevitable admonishment. "No matter, he... is alive," the Lady answered nonchalantly. "Children will return to the fold, in time. They always do." "Nephres," the Lady was unexpectedly kind. "How proceeds our negotiation with the Mermen?" "As if they had a choice in the first place, your Grace," Nephres smirked arrogantly, chuckling to herself. "Did you know they use your Grace's name to silence their misbehaving children? One mention of your exploits and even the rowdiest school of fingerlings would hide in their coral caves." "True enough, but I want assurances," The woman in black intoned. "No more unforeseen circumstances like last time. Right, Edgar?" Edgar fell to his knees and knocked his forehead against the pavement. He performed the kowtowing supplication three times until he was dizzy and bleeding. "Nephres, heal him." Nephres grumbled and shot Edgar a beam of green, nourishing energy. "There will be no failure." The Lady commanded. "Until next time." Edgar watched the sigils fade, feeling his wounds heal. He felt so pent up, so unfulfilled, so filled to the brim with emotions that tore at his rational mind and stroked something dark and malignant within. "You, come here," He commanded the younger maid, who shook her head, her small face white with fear and dripping terror. She had believed the rumuors. She should have. "Please, young master Edgar. Please. I just wanted to work here. I am not from anywhere great. I'll be useful to you. I'll do anything, just spare me, please…" Despite the presence of Burham and Nephres, the girl tore at her maid's uniform, revealing her still developing breasts, two gentle swells that glowed palely in the dim light of the spent conjuration ritual. Burham looked away. Poor young Master— reduced to this. Nephres' eyes glowered with sick pleasure. "Come here. Now." "Please, no…" The maid dropped to her knees and supplicated, as Edgar had done, smashing her head against the pavement. The skin on her forehead split, splattering blood all over and ruining her good looks. It was a gamble, she knew, maybe the Young Master would lose his interest if she was ugly, no longer the beautiful girl hand-picked by Mr Burham. If she was foul, what would be the sport? "You think I am interested in your body?" Edgar almost choked on a fit of passion. Instead, he began a riotous explosion of laughter. Edgar fought the tightness in his pants, constrained by the prosthetic limb's leather bands and understood the misunderstanding. It was pretty funny, Edgar had to admit. "Nothing of the sort, little bird." "Dusty!" he commanded. A whirling Dust elemental materialised, its comical name betrayed by the horrific vision of a malignant dark shape looming over the girl. "No! Anything! I'll do anything!" Her cry went unheeded. Dusty was upon her in an instant. The bleating maid's flesh instantly rendered, and her blood flowed freely. The pressure of Dusty's powerful grasp wrung her body; her fluids drained and mingled with the swirling Devil until it became a whirl of crimson. Edgar felt his mana pool grow just ever so slightly. "That was an excellent choice, Burham," he commended his manservant. "Where did you dig her out from?" "Near the Hills District." "I would like a few more of the same quality. If you are able, I feel stronger already." "Of course.' Burham bowed. The Master would not approve, but if the lives of these worthless NoM-turned Mages meant that the Young Master could regain his health, then so be it. Edgar meanwhile, continued to drain the poor maid until all of her Essences ceased to be, leaving behind a corpse of dusty death where a lively young woman had once existed. His mind, however, could barely register the final, whimpering moments of the victim whose life force nourished him. At this moment, Edgar's consciousness was elsewhere, dreaming of another time, another place. He dreamt of a pair of lithe, long legs trembling in the firelight, eyes speckled with emerald-on-amber, dilated with fear and trembling with unspeakable loathing. Edgar was again tasting the girl's mind, her astral soul, split in twain, light and dark, separate and yet whole, like the yolk and the egg white. He had been so close. Edgar recalls it as if it were happening still, himself towering over the staggering girl, her mind caught in his dark web, strands upon strands of Enchantment woven into illusions, overpowering her mind. Her nape caught in his rough-hewn palm, his hands had caressed the shy, white skin of her shoulders, brushing away the dust and sweat to reveal the pallid flesh below. She had pushed him away, but how could her terrified, vague fingers resist? He had touched her, entered her in a way that no one else ever would. He could feel her resistance failing, the unclenching of her loosening thighs— his ultimate victory. Edgar felt a sudden shudder engender in the loins. Nephres, who'd been watching the whole ordeal distastefully, choked on her saliva. Even Burham was embarrassed by Edgar's unexpected passion. The guard instantly materialised a new robe. "Would the Young Master perhaps consider drawing a bath?" he noted without altering his tone, suppressing a dash of dire redness flashing across his old face. "Please." Edgar smoothed out his robe, his face likewise glowering with renewed vitality. "Do clean up here as well." _Wait for me._ Edgar promised himself with untold vehemence, inexpertly fighting his impulses with trembling limbs that jangled. _I am coming._

“So that’s how it is.” Gwen finished explaining the situation to her gathered compatriots at the cafeteria while Alesia stood sheepishly beside her, nursing a cup of hot Milo. “So,” Yue rapped her fingers on the table. “You telling me that we get to skip all the boring stuff? That sounds alright to me.” “I am afraid it’s sink or swim, all the way," Gwen reminded everyone, just in case they had yet to understand the scope of their new deal. “I don’t see a problem with that,” Yue grinned confidently. “Boom, straight to the Top 8! You're here to make a big splash, right? What could be bigger than that?” “Reckless, but I agree.” Debora nodded beside Yue. “I want to show off my abilities, a real showcase, and that can only be achieved by challenging the best.” “It’s all choice to me, bro.” Whetu made his opinions known. “Nuffin's getting by my punamu in a hurry.” “I’ll do my best!” Elvia uttered cutely, joining the circle of affirmation. “Alright!” Gwen extended her hand and place it on the table. "We're cool then?" "Cool," "Good." "Yep." "Let's do it!" Gwen took a deep breath, she'd been waiting for this moment. “All for one!” “Together!” “As one!” “For us!” “Team Blackwattle!” The group cheered. Gwen felt profoundly sad that this world had no Alexander Dumas. So many missed opportunities! She’d really have to tell the story to the girls someday, convert the Musketeers into the Three Magus, or something. “So, when do we bring the pain?” Yue inquired. “Thursday noon, the Rosebay Private Girl’s Academy,” Gwen affirmed. “Public exhibition match for the seeded position in the top 8. There’s going to be a sizeable audience, I am lead to believe.” “At the very least, Magister Kilroy and Ferris will be there,” Alesia butted in. “Two of the highest powers in the land. There's no better audience than this! There will be a number of high ranking Magus attending too, but they're mostly the Magister's entourage.” “Oh,” Elvia's small face turned paler than her bedsheets. “So many powerful and famous people. Master Kilroy is the leader of the Tower! Master Ferris is very famous as well for her Divination and Illusion!” Debora’s eyes glowed with anticipation. “So, how are we doing the matches?” Yue asked. “I know we’re doing a 5v5, but who's doing the 1v1 and the 3v3?” “Gwen will be fronting the 1v1,” Alesia stated. “That was a part of the agreement.” “Wouldn’t they just buff their Mages with Lightning Resistance?” Debora noted. “That’s what I would do.” “Not with Master Kilroy there. No pre-match buffs. No way to gain an unfair advantage.” “What if she had to fight an Abjurer who's specialised in Earth? That's a terrible matchup for Gwen. What if they're an illusionist and Gwen makes a mistake or misfires a spell?” Alesia shot Debora an exhaustive look. “That's for Gwen to overcome. Out there in the real world, you don't get favourable match-ups. Your enemies will try to counter you at every turn. How we play the hand we're dealt with is the mainstay of what differentiates a skilled mage from a bad one. Not to mention that out of all the people here, Gwen has the least problem with flexibility.” Alesia intoned from personal inexperience, her voice unusually solemn and stern. "If Gwen couldn’t even overcome that, she’d have no place fighting for top dog at the apex of the Inter-high pyramid." “Ma'am," Debora acquiesced. "How about the 3v3?” she pivoted the topic and proposed instead. Alesia grinned ominously. “We only need to win best of three, so I was thinking of having ya-self, Yue and Whetu standing in for the three-man. After all, I dare say that chance of Gwen having to blow her 'ability' is pretty high if Rosebay takes this seriously.” The Debora and Yue regarded one another with surprise. “I am game.” Debora declared instantly. “So long as she’s capable of controlling her friendly fire.” “I am game too,” Yue replied. “So long as she’s capable of not walking into my Fireballs.” “Ah~ Youth.” Alesia shook her head wisely, giving, the impression of an all-knowing zen master. “You girls will be spending tomorrow with me on the Training Field. You better not embarrass Gwen out there, she’s counting on you!” “Yes, Master!” Yue saluted. “Ma’am!” Debora inclined her head affirmatively. "If there's nothing else, go and get some rest." Alesia brushed her hair back luxuriously. "Dismissed! We'll gather here first thing Thursday morning. I'll have transportation sorted out by then." The rest of the crew affirmed the order and went their separate ways. Gwen and the girls returned to their dorm room. "How do you feel about all this, Gwen?" Yue inquired, landing on her bed with an expression of gaiety. "What must come, will come, the readiness is all," Gwen replied confidently, it was a saying she was truly taking to heart these days. Her confidence wasn't unfounded either, for she had theory-crafted many scenarios and outcomes with Alesia, the vast majority of which demonstrated that victory for Gwen was assured. "So, what happens now?" Elvia asked carefully. “Does this mean we win and then we’re in the competition?” “Yep, pretty much. First stop, Rosebay, next stop, Stadium Australis.” “Eeep! I thought as much!” Elvia hugged her pillow and rolled around her bed, messing up her sheets. “All those eyes watching! I’ve never shown my spells in front of so many people, you guys! What if I miss a healing spell? What if I embarrass everyone?” “Oh, Evee,” Yue hastened over to the adjacent bed and pushed Elvia toward her bosoms. “If anything, it's that exhibitionist Debby who’s going to embarrass us.” “Has Debs got her element imbued clothing yet?” Gwen asked. Debora's used Blink a dozen times in training but had always ended up in a gross state of undress. Alesia had said that it took exceptional expertise to Blink without damaging one's attire, and Debora was still working on her tier 3 foundations. “Master said she’ll source it by Thursday,” Yue replied confidently. “We have our own uniforms too. They’re supposed to be resistant to spell-force, dirt, heat and cold.” “Nice,” Gwen wondered what they’d look like, imagining the green and gold uniforms that classic Australian Olympians used for international competitions. Something in that style would be wonderful. “Well, good night,” Yue said. She wiggled under her summer blankets, closed her eyes, and was instantly asleep. “That amazes me every time,” Gwen noted in a suppressed voice. Gwen tried to sleep for over an hour, but the scenarios of the competition kept playing over and over again in her head. “Gwen,” Elvia whispered softly in the darkness. “Yeah?” “I can’t sleep at all,” Elvia paused nervously. “Do you think…” Gwen opened her blankets. “Come on over, plenty of room for a cute little Evee.” She felt Elvia’s soft, boneless body slid under her thin sheets. The petite blonde girl was wearing pyjamas, but Gwen just had on a singlet and her cotton shorts. With Elvia's entry, her sheets were instantly filled with that scent of life which suffused the healer at all times. “You smell so nice.” Gwen breathed in deeply. Elvia giggled, but her mirthful immaturity quickly metamorphosed into a voice that was trembling with uncertainty. “I didn’t want to say in front of the others, Gwen, but I am awfully nervous.” Elvia crawled a little closer and whispered into Gwen’s ticklish ear. “I am so scared right now. What if I can’t heal you guys? What if someone stops me? What if I am too slow and one of you gets seriously injured?” “You’ll do fine, Evee, you always have. When have you ever failed us?” Gwen hugged the little girl closer, feeling her soft breath against her neck. She felt so nice, like holding a little kitten in-between one’s arms. Her oxytocins must be going crazy at the moment. “Please don’t let this be the time I screw up.” Elvia prayed to the empty room. “It won’t, Evee. I promise you.” Gwen affirmed. She lowered her lips and kissed Elvia on the forehead. “Can I stay?” Elvia begged, it was still the summer and the room had no cooling unit, but Elvia’s hands and feet were ice cold. “Of course, Evee, I’ll warm you up.” Gwen cuddled her. Elvia sheltered in the warmth that permeated from Gwen, whilst Gwen herself was half-drunk on Elvia's intoxicating scent of life. The two of them laid side by side and were soon fast counting kookaburras on the old gum tree. Gwen wasn’t sure what to make of Wednesday. At Alesia’s behest, the group didn’t have class, but Yue and Debora were both absent due to their 3v3 training with Whetu. Elvia likewise, had gone to see her uncle, wondering if Hans, who had served as a combat medic, had anymore last minute wisdom to part. Gwen didn’t want to spend the day alone. Having spent three-months constantly surrounded by people had established a feeling of collectivism which made her momentary isolation more pronounced than it really was. So after some deliberation, Gwen called Richard. “Oh hey!” his voice answered from the other side of her Message device. “Am I free? Not yet, but I can be. One sec.” “Richard! No! This was wholly unplanned, I don’t want to bother you if you are busy!” From a distance, Gwen could hear Richard announce with certainty that was he leaving. “Okay, I am free. Where do you want to meet?” "Richard! Really! I don't want to inconvenience you." “I am not inconvenienced at all. My schedule is clear for the rest of the day.” “…” “City or something quieter? I know a new place that was just built, lovely Wildland ingredients. Want to try?” “Sure, I want to ask you some stuff about Rosebay, if you have any idea.” “Of course, I’ll tell you what I can.” “See ya.” The address which Richard had given was too far from the station and so Gwen had to take a Taxi. She kept her casual attire of jeans and a white-tee, keeping a minimum profile as she ventured into Alexandria. When she’d arrived, she was surprised to find that an industrial area had been converted into some sort of a farm-house cafe. It was as though someone had taken an old warehouse and gentrified it with aged oak and industrial-chic. Business was booming when Gwen stepped in, but she quickly found Richard in the crowd. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. “Gwen.” “Richard.” They exchanged cheeks, drawing eyes from the passerby. “Let’s head in.” Gwen was surprised that Richard had already booked a seat. “It’s so busy, Richard, how did you get a table so quickly?” “My brother-in-craft’s family at Prince’s owns the place.” Richard laughed, tapping his storage ring. “I got a VIP insignia. They reserve a few tables for friends and family of the place at all times.” The waitress as cute and her skirt was short. She cast a few doe-eyed glances at Richard before taking their order. Coffee was first to arrive. Richard had his cold-dripped, a classy choice. Gwen stuck to her pedestrian iced coffee drenched with condensed milk. Gwen told Richard what she’d already see at Rosebay, as well as Alesia’s dossier on who she thinks might bet Gwen’s challenger. Richard shook his head. “Not that Alesia is wrong, but Rosebay is hardly going to face you with students that you already know. Most schools have a few students that they reserve for events just like your one. These kids are typically ones who go on to become core members of the school's alumni, typically, they're talented scholarship students without big backings from their own clan, so their loyalty is foremost to the school itself." “How do you know this, Richard?” Gwen asked out of interest. It was highly unusual that Alesia hadn’t mentioned any of this, she had been meticulous with the details of the top students in Rosebay. “Because I am one of them.” Richard smiled and sipped his coffee carefully, letting the robust flavour roll over his tongue. “Even though I am ranked no.1 in the school of Conjuration, I have never participated in public matches for Prince’s. My position as a Prefect also comes with the role of Praetorian, someone who sets the record straight if an overwhelming force comes to challenge the school. I am not surprised Alesia is unaware of this, as she’s neither involved in Spellcraft competitions nor the private school scene.” “Isn't this a big secret then?” Gwen asked, a little surprised. “And you just told me, just like that?” “Just like that,” Richard tapped the table with his nails. “What’s a few secrets amongst chums like us.” “I am very grateful then,” Gwen said seriously. “Call it a favour then.” “What do you recommend I do? I’d have no idea what to expect then?” “Well, there’s a method which you could try, if you’re willing to put some faith in me.” “Shot,” Gwen affirmed. “I’ll tell you what I can.” “I need your spell list.” “…” Gwen wasn’t sure about that. To give away her spell list would mean that Richard knew exactly what she could be capable of. What if he leaked it to Prince's? “Trust me.” Richard reached out and took Gwen’s hand. “I’ll never betray you. Not in this lifetime.” It was at this moment that the waitress arrived with their food: Wildland pheasant in cranberry reduction, and South Atlantic bluefin tartare in lime-pine ponzu. The waitress eyed their hand-holding wordlessly and carefully laid down their plates before retreating with a defeated expression. Gwen felt defeated. Perhaps it was the look in his eye. Perhaps it was their shared experiences so far, but Gwen wanted to believe in Richard. “Okay, I trust you.” “Wait up, let me set up a private Message.” Gwen meticulously told Richard of her spell list, but only her Conjuration, Evocation and Transmutation. Richard’s hand shook a little when sipping his coffee. “Gwen, how are you learning tier 4 spells so quickly?” “Not my secret to give. Sorry, Richard.” “Of course. Forget I asked.” Richard analysed Gwen’s spell list. “Wow, to think you have access to that already. I think... I would recommend this…” After another night of cuddling a nervous Elvia, the girls were awakened by Alesia banging a pot-lid of some kind. Where did she even get a pot-lid? The woman doesn’t cook! They stared bleary-eyed at the dark-haired beauty, who then materialised individual bundles of clothes atop their beds. “Ta-da! I had the order rush-made. Cost me half a bag of crystals! Damage resistant, self-mending battle dresses! I’ve given Debora and Whetu theirs, and these are your own. All in Blackwattle colours.” “Aww yeah!” Yue leapt from her bed and tore through her package. The paper wrapping pulled apart easily to reveal a smart looking short sleeve blouse in white, with the right breast pocket blazoned with Blackwattle’s Heraldry. The skirt was pleated and chequered, with a silver-grey tartan crisscrossed in black and white. There was a blazer as well, but only the blouse and the skirt were enchanted to cut costs. They were still a government school after all. Even with Alesia’s string pulling, the school couldn’t afford to give five students a full regalia of gear. Gwen had asked her grandfather if he was willing to contribute, but Surya had told her that competitive items were limited to specific types, such as those that preserved life. Her elemental-absorption scale, for example, could only be triggered when she received damage, but most matched ended with the breaking of a Mage’s mana shield, signifying that a Mage was OOM or no longer capable of self-defence. His other reason was far simpler. Magic items weren’t cabbages! You can’t just ask for five sets in three months from an artisan! It would take a major fabrication division months to weave the self-mending fabric necessary to craft a damage resistant suit. Each strand had to be transmuted individually and then woven together. Surya wasn't a tailor, he was a trinket maker. The girls suited up. They looked smart and preppy in their pleated skirts. They had their existing school-shoes, which were polished pairs of oxfords. Gwen opted for her 'glamoured' Mary-Janes, whose black leather befitted the outfit and had the added benefit of matching the damage and dust resistance of her new uniform. A simple tie finished the accessory department, creating a cute bow from their finger-width, silver-trimmed ties. “Hey!” Yue uttered with surprise, stretching her chest out and bending her elbows. “The shirt! It shapes itself!” “That it does,” Alesia gave her pupil a thumbs up. In certain departments, Yue was peerless. “Not a fan of these?” Gwen questioned Alesia, seeking a confirmation to a question she’d had for some time. “Your Djinn form shreds everything you wear.” “I could, but then I’d have to wear the same outfit all the time.” Alesia nodded her head sagely. “Where would be the fun in that?” The rest of the team met in the elevator lobby. It was interesting how their uniforms had subtle differences. Elvia's blouse had long sleeves for better protection. Debora's shirt was sleeveless, her skirt was shorter, allowing her to perform more acrobatic movements as well as accentuating the toned curvature of her athletic legs. Whetu's shirt was like a second skin against the hilly terrain of his pectorals. His personal uniform had a tie which he wore loose, it's black material matching his long pants, which had been converted into a straight-cut pair of regular-fits. They noted that Whetu wore instead heavy, steel-toed leather boots with an impressive array of metallic studs. When the members had finished inspecting one another's new uniforms, they were greeted with the unexpected sight of the academy's staff waiting for them in the atrium. Principal Bartlett was waiting for them, along with their tutors and instructors. The morning students all gathered to gawk at the spectacle as the team of five emerged into the atrium in their new attire. “Gwen! Elvia, Yue, Debora, and Mr. Taranga. I bid you fair tidings for the journey ahead. It brings me much joy to know that despite what little contribution the school could provide, you are now going out there to challenge the world in our name." Gwen bowed low and the others followed. A murmur broke out amongst the student. The fact that Blackwattle would be challenging a top 8 academy had yet to be spread amongst the students. Gwen and company had kept it amongst themselves. “That is not true, Sir. We owe so much of what we have today to you, Sir and Madams, whatever the outcome of this competition, we shall not forget all that you have done for us.” Gwen replied formally without a second thought, bringing broad smiles to the instructor’s faces. Before the other students, teacher and student clasped hands with firm shakes. Mr Rawson even made a rare appearance with a Lumen recorder, taking an account of this sacred moment when Blackwattle, a government high school without a rank, is going to challenge one of the top 8 schools in the state. How would history remember this moment? If the girls succeed, would they become a Selective School? What of the students here? Would they receive the necessary training and funding to become the elites of the Mageocracy? “Alesia, take care of them!” Bartlett intoned emotionally to Alesia. He still recalled the first time that he’d called upon Alesia to help Gwen. The girl had been taken hostage by her family, ready to be showcased and sold off to join some private school. Bartlett was at his wits’ end and had called in all the favours he could, including an old associate of the war, Henry Kilroy. Unexpectedly, Kilroy had responded, and after series of escalating events, Gwen had become something that exceeded his wildest expectations. What would people say in the future when Gwen had her own Tower? Would they say, ‘Ah, she came from Blackwattle, the Selective School who was headed by the late Principal, Edward Bartlett?’ How would history remember him if Gwen were to become a Mage that opened up more living space for mankind? Would they muse, ’Oh, did you know that it was Bartlett who first recognised her talent and gave the legendary Magister her first taste of privilege and power?’ “Oh, they’ll return safe and sound! Else there wouldn’t be a single brick left standing in Rosebay!” Alesia laughed and the instructors followed awkwardly. They weren’t sure if the Magus was kidding or she was serious. With Alesia, anything she said could be taken either way. "You guys ready to head out?" A familiar voice called out. "Paul!" Gwen waved excitedly. It was Alesia's Conjuration specialist who had appeared at the door. "Hey Gwen, looking mighty fine there! You eighteen yet?" "Soon, Paul," Gwen smirked winsomely. "Not old enough to be dating, but old enough to killing," Paul lamented a cardinal truth of their cruel world. "Well, if you ladies are just about finished, I got the Rosebay Tele-Circle fired up and waiting." Motes of Conjuration mana drifted through the air, falling like dandruff onto the student’s new uniforms. Alesia coughed. “God! What is with this archaic incantation! That efficiency! My God, when did they build this thing?” “Looks like something they did when the school was constructed, feels like the 70s,” Paul the Conjurer answered. “We get this a lot in the older institutions.” The rest of the teleported crowd gawked at the soaring Cathedral before them. The sea! The cliff! The open sky! Yet more impressive was the scene before them. Their gaze fell from the impressive building toward an ocean of blue pleated skirts and dark penguin habits that faced them. “Welcome to Rosebay!” Mistress Stone greeted them with open arms. “WELCOME TO ROSEBAY!” The crowd of girls behind them announced at once. There was a muffled explosion in the sky and Yue ducked out of instinct, causing a few laughs to break out amongst the crowd of younger girls. Debora shot Yue a look of consternation and mockery, which was returned by a 'hmmph!' Above Gwen and the others, a cascade of rose petals began to fall, conjured by an incredibly useless but highly aesthetic signature spell. “Cor Unum!” Stone commanded in archaic latin. “HEARTS AND MINDS!” The girls answered, their sweet voices filling the courtyard. Just as the Blackwattle crew had thought the show of force was over, the younger girls began to sing, their angelic voices divining joining the falling of the petals. They were soon joined by the older girls in the chorus. " _Alleluia Alleluia,_ _For our Lord God Almighty reigns_ _Alleluia Alleluia,_ _For our Load God Almighty reigns_ _Alleluia,_ _Holy holy,_ _Are You Lord God Almighty!_ _Worthy is the Lamb,_ _Worthy is the Lamb!"_ Gwen and the crew felt frozen to the spot. What kind of reception was this! It was the grandest, most impressive thing they had ever experienced in their lives! How do they even begin to respond to this? Then Gwen became distracted by the layout of the training field behind the girls. She saw silhouetted upon the VIP platform, two austere, seated figures. One sported the familiar tweed jacket and vest, attended to by the slim figure of a woman with bark-like skin and autumn leafs for a head of air. Beside him, was a middle-aged woman with two streaks of white hair running through her crowned hair, piled atop her head into a kind of high-piled braid. She had a severe look about her that radiated power and competence - this would unmistakably be Magister Ferris, one of the ten and the patron of Rosebay. The choir fell away, and Magus Stone opened a path for them. “I am looking forward to working with you, Gwen Song. Magister Ferris is very interested in you herself. When you rise in the world, please remember my humble service.” She spoke as Gwen passed, walking in front of them. Gwen thanked the mistress but said nothing more. Exposing the bet would only make her companions unnaturally nervous. The stakes were plenty high already. Besides, she wasn't sure if Debora or someone might see her 'deal' as some kind of betrayal. Afterall, anyone would probably be incredibly pleased if they were scholarshiped in a school like Rosebay - full of a promising future, potentially averting the disastrous Military Service. The Blackwattle crew felt like a trope of exotic beasts, watched with fascination by four hundred girls all dressed in blue habits tipped with emblazoned red roses. “Oh my goodness, look at that girl’s skirt! It so short I could see her knickers!” “The leading one is so pretty! Master Stone seems to have taken a liking to her.” “Oh my, look at that one, she’s so solid! Those muscles! Is she a wrestler?” “Who knows, I heard that regular students have to do manual labour to pay for tuition!" “Eek, how dreadful!” “Hold up! Look at the short Asian one.” “Who cares, she’s just some migrant, I want to know about the tall one.” “No! Look closely!” “Holy hell, her… bust! Is it real?” “It’s padded! Padded I tell you!” “Woa! What’s that thing?” “The big guy? Maybe he’s a manservant.” “He’s so big.” “I think he’s kind of dreamy.” "No way! What is on his face? A tattoo?" “Look at his feet! It’s bigger than both my feet.” “You know what they say about men with big feet, fufufu.” “What do they say?” “They say…” “Shush! Mother Superior is coming.” “… that they need really big shoes!” They were escorted into the courtyard and placed before the audience. The duelling platform itself was a generous field about a hundred by fifth metres, halved in the middle by a dividing line. The exterior of the platform was lined with enchanted blocks of magic dampeners and portable shields which prevented the battle from spilling onto the observing audience. Gwen noted that the ground itself has been additionally inscribed with Conjuration and Transmutation glyphs, indication that it could be repaired or transformed at the whim of the administrator into different landscapes. On the oppositional side, a team of girls shuffled in. They were all so indistinct, virtually all wearing identical blue habits with the red rose chest pin. Gwen could only tell them apart by their height as well as the mana that radiated from them. “Detect Magic.” She muttered under her breath. There were motes of Divination magic on the other side as well. The teams were getting an edge by checking one another out. Gwen measured the mana emerging from the other side. Fire Evoker. Ice Conjurer. Earthen Abjurer Air Diviner A positive energy healer. Another Evoker, Earth again. Then there was a girl clearly different from the rest, whose elements were a strange mix of fire and earth, and whose school appeared indistinct. This must be a member of the reserves, the so-called Praetorian of the school's fortunes. Gwen knew what that meant - much like herself, whose sigils gave off a chaotic confusion of mana, the girl was likely a Magus-in-training, capable of tapping into at least two schools. At any rate, the other team had both regular members and reserve members. Gwen's team had only five. They could not afford to lose a single member, nor expose too much of their abilities before the 5v5. Richard's advice resounded in Gwen's mind. She had a decision to make. The teams gathered before Kilroy and Ferris, who nodded affirmatively as they all made the supplicating gesture of deeply bowing before the superior Mage. After all that hubbub at the teleportation gate, the rest of the contest seemed rather spartan on ceremony. Inspections were carried out by Alesia and Stone on oppositional team members, satisfying the requirement that the students did not carry contraband items. Their Storage Rings were confiscated for the time being as well, in addition to any portable devices, as well as healing, buffing, or mana potions. Stone had paused when she saw Gwen’s scale but said nothing as Ferris herself chose to remain silent. When all was stated and done, the two Magus, Stone and Alesia, presented themselves below the Magisters and announced that they were ready to proceed. "Transmute Terrain!" Some form of a lottery must have taken place, for the field transformed in the next instant into small crested hills and wild grasses that looked fully capable of tangling an unwary traveller. Magus Stone turned from the platform towards the two teams. “Gwen Song, Blackwattle Bay! Versus Julia Fiore Muller! Rosebay!” Gwen stepped into the field and watched her opponent do the same. It was the tall girl with a para-element and two schools. Julia removed her habit-like outer uniform to reveal a form-fitting bodysuit in blue and red, skin-tight against her athletic form. She looked well muscled, giving the impression of a Debora who spent far too much time in the Gym. Her hair was cropped short, leading Gwen to suspect that she likely had a full-body effect. Gwen breathed in and out, calming her quickening heart. She had one shot at this. She had faith in Richard. She had faith in herself. Above, the command to initiate was given. “May the best Mage win the day!” “Commence!”

Julia was supremely confident she could defeat a Lightning Mage no matter how skilled or talented they were. There were just too much of a difference in their elemental compatibilities. First of all, a Lightning Mage had little to no protection against her Magma attacks, for Magma were the perfect combination of all-consuming heat betrothed with the force and power of the earth. Her basic catapults pulverised even an Earthen Abjurer's shielding. Combined with Transmutation, she could Jump, she could Blink, she could throw small meteors of devastating destruction. During Rosebay's Field Trip, Julia single-handedly took down a two hundred green-skinned Goblinoids. She even wrestled an Ogre and had beaten it into the ground. _If so, how the hell did she lose?_ Her defence was impeccable! Her instructor had attuned her Magma-Skin Transmutation so that it warded against electrical attacks. Additionally, she had prepared Resist Lightning, Absorb Lightning, and an assortment of effects designed negate Gwen Song's abilities. Julia tried to think, attempting to recall the last ten seconds. Her opponent had first-strike— that had been assured. After all, Gwen was a Lightning Mage, possessing the fastest acting element next to Radiance, while Julia was as slow as Ooze. So long as Julia endured Gwen's first spell, however, it was over - for Julia knew that it was nigh-impossible for the mana expenditure of an offensive caster to match the efficacy of a defender. Either through defeat by becoming OOM, or by submission, Julia was sure that the Lightning Mage would fail her challenge. _If so, why was she the one lying on the ground?_ Julia propped herself up on her right arm, looking around the duelling field for an answer. Her chest hurt. Her whole body hurt. She was thunderstruck, but how had Gwen Song penetrated her defence? Around the arena, the Rosebay cohort was full of bewilderment, disbelief, and confusion, all mashed into a single moment of dismay. Julia looked up, feeling anger and resentment rising in her throat. Did Gwen Song cheat? Was she an illusionist? An illusion? Julia's brow broke out in cold sweat. Was she trapped in an Illusory Phantasm? Julia concentrated her mana, feeling the lingering Magma on her skin boil and crackle, turning red and liquid. "Julia!" The one and only Magister Irene Ferris, Master of her Master, called out. "Stand down!" She didn't want to, but the voice was like an iron whip against her mind. The Magma Skin fell from her body and sizzled the turf. The transmuted landscape faded, returning to the grey-dark concrete of the unglamoured training field. "Ma'am." Julia croaked. She was in disbelief. She wanted to tell the Magus that Gwen Song had cheated somehow. "This is no illusion," Irene said kindly. "You were simply outmatched." Julia shuddered. Bested?! Outmatched?! She turned to look at Magus Stone, who was frantically waving at Julia, commanding her to return. What else could she do? The Magister had spoken. She lost. Irene Ferris didn't much like the man next to her. Deathless Henry, they called him— Henry Kilroy, the Master of the Ten. She didn't like that moniker one bit. No man was a master of Irene Ferris, especially not an old relic from bygone wars. There were other reasons why Irene didn't like Henry, but those were more pragmatic. As a Diviner, her auguries had often told of impending opportunities and wayward risks that the Tower faced. Sometimes, Henry heeded her words; other times, he ignored them. The man seemed to operate on a level that the other nine couldn't question, and she didn't like that one bit either. Was it because Henry Kilroy was a part of the Great Generation? The folks that initiated the Tower system, aiding the Great Reclamation? Sure, the once August Kilroy had lowered himself to govern a Tier 2 Tower, but it didn't mean that he should be above the Rule of Law, right? As the Tower's Oracle and Diviner, surely she had more say in the matter of defence. Yet, the old man persisted in his "Middle Path" of isolation. Develop the human cities, suppress the Demi-humanoids. Lockdown all inter-species trading and control the level of contact between the races. How could Sydney progress if its ruler enforced stagnation? Herself, Walken, and Lin, they were all like-minded in their belief that Mages and Men were quickly drifting apart, that the NoM would inevitably bury the Mage in an avalanche of incompetence. She was inclined to believe that Mages, so steeped in mana and magic, had more in common with the magical demi-humanoid races. In that case, why not open up trade with the Mermen? Get to know about their culture and language? Why not do as the Europeans do, and create envoys to and from sapient races like the fabled Elves and the Dwarves? Who's to say that Orcs and Hobs were only useful for their Creature Cores? Ferris knew the dangers of opening Human cities and its civilisation to the malevolent races but also knew that they had much to learn from the ancient elementals. The Elder Races, such as the so-called High-Elves or their cousins, the Dark-Elves, all possessed Spellcraft surpassing humanity's own. Even the Dwarves, so isolated in their unseen, underground cities, had contributed the art of Golem making. But Kilroy would have none of that. Over his dead body, he'd say. So imagine Ferris' surprise when her protege told her that Kilroy's dog, Alesia de Botton, had come with a proposal— — one by the name of Gwen Song. Ferris had known about Gwen Song since de Botton had brought the girl to the Tower to see Kilroy. During the fated encounter with Walken's guards, Ferris had watched from her chamber until Gunther Shultz had arrived to diffuse the heat. She hadn't kept much stock in the girl until Gwen began to show up on the regular three months ago. Then both Walken and herself decided to keep an eye on the girl. Irene could Scry the girl if she wanted, of course, but Kilroy would know, and that would trigger a level of insubordination Irene was ill-prepared to face. As far as she could tell, Gwen was Henry's new pet project. The man had done the same with Gunther Shultz, long rumoured to be his apprentice, and then again in the late-80s with the unlikely firebrand Alesia de Botton. Now, he was working on a third. She knew that Gwen was a Lightning Mage, and she had heard from secretive sources that she might be a talented, prematurely awakened Magus as well. That was impressive, of course, but not good enough for Irene to contest Deathless Henry. Why was Henry so keen on the girl? That was the question to which she wanted answers. Now she knew. She really should have risked that Scry. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. When it'd happened, Ferris had thought herself caught in a glamour— an impossible affair, as a master of the School like herself was virtually immune to illusionary effects. Yet Ferris nonetheless just witnessed something she'd only heard about in the old war stories. A flash of darkness that consumed all light. An eruption of sickening mana that gave all who bore witness to its monstrous birth a feeling of sickening vertigo. She felt the distinct distortion of space itself, a lurch of the stomach, a split second of terror that came from the bone. A blast of Lightning followed. Then it was over. Gwen knew she was well and truly in the pits the moment she ran a focused Detect Magic over Julia. They had a bad elemental match-up. Even with an alpha strike from all her conjuration spells and evocation spells, it was likely that Julia could survive. As a Magma Mage, Julia's heat resistance reduced Lightning's impact, and her earthen body dissipated its paralytic effects, nullifying the best components of Gwen's spells. When she stood upon that field, Gwen could further feel the resonating effects of the girl's Transmutation magic, far more powerful and practised than Debora's. There was something else there as well, hidden inside the girl's mana signature. If she had to take a guess, then Gwen's Divining bones would venture that it was Abjuration. Only a school that directly countered her Evocation could give her such a hair-raising, ominous sense of foreboding. Richard was right. Rosebay had sent out their Praetorian, supreme in the confidence that they had countered her every move. She had no choice but to use her Void abilities; her only recourse was to minimise exposure while achieving maximum effect. "Commence!" There was no more time to think. Now, she must act. "Molten Armour!" Julia incanted, and her skin began to boil with flowing motes of fire and earthen mana, forming into a hardened carapace. If given the few seconds it took for the spell to mature, Gwen knew her opponent would be unstoppable. "Dimension Door!" To the surprise of all, Gwen vanished from where she stood. She re-appeared in the next second, violently barging into the unsuspecting Julia, a semi-circle splash of dense darkness flickering for a fraction of a second. Her opponent couldn't see nor sense Gwen teleporting within a few centimetres of her. It was an absurd move, insane even. The temperature that surrounded Julia was almost several hundred degrees! It was enough to set Gwen's uniform aflame. Yet none of that happened. The girl who suddenly appeared in Julia's vicinity flickered, then Julia went tumbling into the dirt. Gwen felt her offensive Dimension Door connect, with her Void mana instantly eating into the Magma Mage's still-forming Molten Armour. She immediately felt her vitals drop like a stone, but kept up at attack for a fraction more, feeling it crunch through the Magma and touch on the raw mana below. As Julia tumbled, falling onto her back foot, the central plating of the Molten Armour scattered; the spell overloading and dispelling, causing unformed sheets of smoking stone to fall from her body. Gwen then thrust both hands toward Julia's; one upon her shoulder, while the other struck Julia's solar plexus, forcing the air from her lungs. Gwen's inner metronome counted seconds until her mind was ready for its next incantation. "Lightning Bolt!" Before Julia even landed, Gwen materialised a bolt of electrical plasma from her lower hand and shot it toward Julia's chest, feeling the satisfying shunt of the energy conducting violently through the Magma Mage's body. Julia's Earthen constitution absorbed much of Gwen's spell, but enough of it had passed through Julia's torso to paralyse her opponent. When Julia finally landed, it was with a limpid thump. The crowd was stilling waiting for something to happen when the fight was already over. "What happened?" Someone asked. "Where's the Molten Armour?" "Why's Julia on the ground?" "Why's the Lightning Mage standing over Julia?" Their voices soon turned frantic, anxious, filled with questions and emotions to which no one had no answers. Gwen turned to examine Kilroy and Ferris. Master Henry had a grin that was beyond entertained; his old face screwed up into a mask of untamed mirth. Ferris herself had made an 'O' with her lips so round she could fit a quail egg. The murmuring of the crowd below grew in intensity, then suddenly Julia sat, bolting upright from her horizontal position. By then, she had already lost consciousness for a good five to six seconds. Gwen turned, then bowed. Julia dejectedly returned to her corner of the field, still staggering with disbelief. How did she lose? She didn't even get her armour up! Surely if she could get her armour up, then she had a chance. Somehow, Gwen Song had used some sorcery to penetrate her impenetrable armour, but why did Master Ferris say nothing. "Mistress Stone," Julia protested. "Shush!" Magus Stone shot her a stern warning with her eyes of cold steel. She was taking a private Message from Magister Ferris and had no time to deal with her student's unexpected failure. "… I suspect this Gwen Song may be tapping into the element of the Void or at least something like it." Ferris warned her protege. "It's an element that is said to be hugely prohibitive due to its cost in life force, which would explain why they have a healer of such low tier with them. In the group combat, take out the healer first, or alpha-strike the Void Mage. Do not let Gwen near Julia! Give Julia time to use her best spell, and you have this in the bag." "Understood, Master," Stoned replied silently. "Make no mistake. I want this girl, Mildred. I absolutely must have her, do you understand?" "Ma'am!" Mildred Stone replied with absolute certainty. On the opposing field, Gwen returned to her teammates. She had kept up an illusion of good health upon receiving her victory. Her companions had clapped and applauded, but their ruckus was alone in the eerie silence of four hundred pairs of disapproving eyes. If Gwen had defeated Julia in mortal combat, then sure, they could applaud the challengers, but what had occurred had been too absurd. "Gwen!" Elvia rushed over to Gwen and clasped both her hands, channelling across a steady stream of vital mana to keep up Gwen's health. Gwen had only her Master's Dimension Door to thank, that and a half-manifested Void Shield. It was a gamble in more ways than one, for if Gwen had lost control of the spell, or if she had overestimated the power of the armour, then her Void-blast may as well have cut through Julia and severely injured the girl. If she had failed to penetrate Julia's defence, then the match may already be lost. What seemed to outside observers like a simple manoeuvre, therefore, was the culmination of Conjuration, Evocation, Void and Lightning. Gwen felt elated. With the success of her gamble. She had exposed very little of her capabilities; yet, her enemy was defeated but alive and well. It was win-win for all accounts. The cost of using two consecutive Void spells, however, was dire in itself. The Dimension Door was a tier 4 spell, far more demanding than the tier 1 bolts that Gwen usually used. The Shield had likewise taken a toll on her body. When she had touched Julia in the final moments, the lingering heat from the Molten Armour further made a mess of her hand. Breathing heavily, Gwen received the healing energy from Elvia and felt the vitality restored to her body. A minute later, she no longer felt dizzy, drained, and overcome by a sudden sense of vertigo. Her hand, likewise, was restored to its full function. "Nice one, Gwen!" "Sweet ass, sister!" Whetu applauded her. "That was fully sick ay!" "My God!" Alesia embraced Gwen, enveloping her in her arms, crushing her violently, picking her up and performing a celebratory jig. "You are going to be famous! What the hell was that? Who taught you to use Dimension Door as an offensive spell? It's not on your lesson roster yet." Gwen glanced over at Henry, twirling his beard expertly and gloating over a furious Magister Ferris. "I had a chat with Richard, my cousin from Prince's. He told me that against a bad match-up, I should burn my trump card and end it so quickly that I have nothing to give away. If it doesn't work, I'd likely lose anyway, so no losses there." "What irresponsible advice!" Alesia snapped. "Only for competitions, Gwen! Never do this in the Wildland! It's suicide!" "Yes, Ma'am," Gwen replied earnestly. "Oh! My little sister!" Alesia embraced Gwen again. "Good work!" A loud tap came from the direction of the podium, drawing their attention. It was Magus Stone. "Congratulations to Gwen Song, Blackwattle Academy, for taking the first duel." She continued. "Now, we move onto our 3v3. Members of the team, please make your way to the stage." Gwen looked over at her friends, who nodded confidently. Yue, Debora, and Whetu moved to the stage. From the Rosebay's stage, out came Julia yet again, followed by the Ice Conjurer and the Earthen Abjurer. "Stage 2, Team Challenge. Three versus Three. From Blackwattle: Yue Bai, Debora Jones, Whetu T. Taranga! From Rosebay: Julia F. Muller, Helen Carter, Beatrice A. Dawson!" "Initialise Terrain!" The field shifted and transformed into an urbanscape with short, stunted walls and obstacles in the centre, preventing line of sight. Yue cursed under her breath. This was the very worst for her fire spells. The girls opposite bowed, then took up their positions. "No Gwen Song?" Irene Ferris questions her compatriot. "No." Henry Kilroy smiled. "Is that a problem?" Ferris tsked. There was no use crying over spilt milk. Below, Magus Stone gave the signal. "Commence!"

"Fireball!" Yue opened up with a barrage of suppressive fire, opting for full coverage spells to mitigate the troublesome terrain of stunted walls and make-pretend buildings. "Sand Armour!" Debora cycled her supplementary skills, attempting to reach the critical mass of self-buffs required for melee-mode. "Resist Elements!" Whetu reinforced Debora, hoping his Aburation was enough to mitigate the searing heat of the Molten Armour when Debora inevitably met the Magma Transmuter in combat. "Earth Shield!" On the other side of the arena, Beatrice the Abjurer conjured an earthen barrier around Julia as the magma Mage likewise self-buffed with Molten Armour. "Julius! Ice Aura!" Behind her, Helena the Ice Conjurer summoned her Familiar, whose halo of cold instantly diminished the vigour of Yue's fire. From a distance, the girls could see that Julius was vaguely avian in shape, likely a gull of some sort. "Shit!" Yue swore. "She's got a low-tier Spirit!" "Ice Storm!" Following the final invocation, a blizzard rained down upon the Blackwattle team, manifesting as a hail of frost-white daggers cutting through the air in whistling shrieks. "Pounamu Shield!" Whetu's unique ability caught the opposing team unaware. The hardened surface of his greenstone shield blocked the ice shards, deflecting the missiles with a large, dome-like structure that formed over the trio. With the cover offered by the low walls and their overhead space sheltered by the hexagonal lattice of the Pounamu, Blackwattle was well-protected from the Conjurer's twin-storm. "Sugars!" Helena cursed. "They got a Mineral Mage too? Are you sure they're a team from the boonies? They're better provisioned than Lilith's!" Meanwhile, the self-buffs from both team's Transmuters continued. "Haste! Magic Weapon! Enhance Strength!" Debora invoked. "Haste! Enhanced Agility! Elemental Weapon!" Julia followed suit. From the sidelines, Gwen perceived that there were subtle differences between Debora's and Julia's magical-enhancement, indicating the difference in Spellcraft. Magic Weapon buffed the natural damage of Debora's strikes, but her physical blows were weak against Molten Armour. On the other hand, Julia's heated Elemental Weapon worked wonders against Debora's Sand Armour. Furthermore, while Debora opted for heavy-hitting strikes, the agility used by Julia ensured that she could both dodge and strike, as Elemental Weapon did not require direct force to achieve maximum potential. "Oh no, Debora..." Gwen muttered anxiously. She wanted to call out or to Message her teammates, but external communication during a duel was forbidden. Meanwhile, a battle for AOE supremacy took place between Yue, whose Affinity ensured she had efficient and expeditious spell casting - against the Conjurer Helena, whose Ice Spirit was dealing a double dose of elemental damage with every chant. Fire and ice clashed overhead, forming into clumps of superheated steam. Where their spells had crossed over without a volatile interaction, they were intercepted by their respective Abjurers. For the moment at least, Rosebay and Blackwattle equally matched. The obstacles of this mock urbanscape were limiting both their options. If Yue used single-target spells such as rays, her opponent could simply duck behind a wall. Likewise, Helena was just as frustrated. Her familiar was not the melee type, and like Yue's fire, her ice spells needed line of sight. Luckily for Yue, Whetu was tanking like a champion. "Get a load of this!" Yue impatiently clamoured as Whetu's Shielding ricocheted another volley of icy shards. "Empowered Fireball! Quickened Fireball!" Yue had been training on the weekends until she was spewing blood. Alesia had been teaching her apprentice a way to over-channel her spells to achieve meta-effects. As a result, simple spells took more mental capacity to cast and drained double or triple the mana but possessed meta-enhancements could change the course of the battle. The twin fireballs took Beatrice, the Earthen Abjurer, by surprise - for the first empowered spell had hidden the smaller ball behind it. A split-second later, initial blast exploded across the surface of her earthen barrier, shattering a part of its stony carapace, after which the second blast bit into the crumbling dome. The force of the concussive blow was such that it blew away the brick and mortar cover, revealing the girls from Rosebay. "Fudgesickles!" Beatrice grunted, redoubling her effort, attempting to repair her damaged barrier before Yue could drop another bomb. "Helena! Keep her off me!" "Sleet Storm!" Twin gusts of slippery frost washed over Yue and Whetu. The Maori wasn't even breaking a sweat. He'd spent the last three-month taking barrages from the girls. Compared to Gwen and friend's desperate bid for lunch, the Conjurer's Sleet Storm felt like a gentle, cooling breeze. Beside them, Debora was ready. In opposition, Julia was likewise ready to rumble. "Blink!" "Blink!" The two Mages were both orthodox students of the junior Conjuration school, preferring melee combat stratagems over ranged attacks. They clashed in the mid-field among an eruption of brick and mortar, crashing through the Transmuted landscape with impunity. The first few exchanges saw the two well-matched, Debora dropped an axe-kick onto Julia's shoulder, while Julia pummelled Dobra with a right hook. Their difference in methodology, however, began to show as the exchange grew heated. With enhanced agility, Julia could dodge one or two of Debora's strikes, while Debora's defence was wholly incapable of stopping the elemental barrage that came from Julia. _Clang!_ _Wham!_ Grunts and howls punctuated the meeting of flesh. All around the girls, chunks of molten lava and gouts of sand-turned-glass scattered like violently shattered china. "How barbaric…" Ferris, whose own vocation was Divination, Illusion and Enchantment, muttered to herself. "They look like two mindless elementals jostling for a mana node." Henry chuckled. It was true that Mages who brawled as their primary occupation were rare and far in between. Close combat with humanoid Magical Creatures was viable, but how does one punch a Kraken, kick an Abolith, or wrestle a Chimera? "That girl, she's Tier 4?" Henry mused. "Saving the best for last, perhaps." "Who knows?" Ferris said nothing. She still felt peeved that Gwen Song had caught Julia flat-footed and cheated a victory from her Praetorian candidate. Stolen novel; please report. Yue scoffed at the pitiful Sleet Storm hammering away at her, harmlessly countered by Whetu's Pounamu shielding. Rosebay's Earthen Mage was barely keeping up— Victory was within her grasp. "Empowered Firestorm!" The immediate space above the Conjurer and the Abjurer filled with the red and glowing mana of the Elemental Plane of Fire. "Absorb Elements!" All the Abjurer could do was ready herself for the incoming assault. "Helena! What are you doing! Run interception on that Evoker!" "I am trying to, damn it! Their Mineral Mage's sturdier than a brick outhouse!" Helena redoubled her efforts. "Icy Sphere!" Two gigantic spheres of ice materialised and launched themselves towards Yue. If they struck, the oppositional element would severely injure the Evoker. At worst, Helena hoped that Yue would flinch and fumble the spell. Instead, Yue showed no sign of fear. What Helena didn't know was that Yue had already been blooded by two months of live fire combat with the Murlocs, that she had experienced hundreds of moments where her life was not in her own hands, but the that of the Abjurer, Taj. Yue couldn't even be bothered to glance at the ice boulders. In her mind, there were only two outcomes. Either Whetu blocked it, and she nuked these bitches. Or she nailed these two bitches first, then got railed by two giant blocks of crushing ice. The important thing was that she managed to disable two enemies for the price of one. The Rosebay girls helplessly watched the spell above them continue to manifest. They didn't have access to any translocation spells and couldn't dodge the empowered Firestorm. In a desperate bid, Helena recalled her elemental spirit and used it to lower the temperate around them, filling the localised area with a crystalline barrier of ice. Yue made a motion with her hand, forcing the Firestorm to accelerate. In the very same instant, a Pounamu shield appeared before her unerringly, deflecting both giant boulders. The Fire Storm struck. It took only two seconds of bombardment from the meteor shower for the half-shattered Earthen Shield to fail. The ice elemental was likewise consumed within a few seconds, retreating to its pocket dimension. "I yield!" "Yield!" The two girls from Rosebay cried out dejectedly. Yue ceased her channelling, felling a dizzying weakness as her mana dropped from half-tank to almost out. Whetu caught her as she stumbled backwards, then turned his attention towards Julia and Debora's duel. Another chunk of Debora's Sand Armour had spent its resilience, instantly turning into molten glass as it fell from her body. Moving motes of earthen mana replenished the sandy carapace, but Debora wasn't doing well. Adjacent Debora, Julia formed both hands into a hammer. She struck the surfer girl a mighty blow, sledgehammering Debora with a shockwave of raging heat that exploded sent her reeling. As Debora stumbled backwards, Julia took the opportunity to advance, bring up a left-right combo that caught Debora square in the gut. Her opponent was stronger than the average private academy student, but her Apellcraft was far below her Affinity with the sand. Just as Julia was about to go for the killing blow, Yue's Fire Storm had landed and taken out her teammates. Julia glanced at her two teammates as their shields failed, furrowing her brows. It was down to her then. Unlike the spoilt rich-girls, she was a Praetorian, the reputation and honour of Rosebay rested upon her shoulders. "Catapult!" Julia shot a lava clump at Debora, fully expecting the girl to perish. Instead, she was thwarted by a green-stone shield that instantly formed in front of Debora, blocking her explosive payload. Julia's offensive power was still impressive though, for she crushed the Pounamu down to its honeycombed lattices. "This chuck's off fence is off the charts!" Whetu grunted. "It's like I am getting pounded by two-three Mages at once." Debora recovered, her expression unknowable behind her mask of sand. "Minor Stone Shape!" Pillars of sand which instantly wrapped around Julia, anchoring her to the ground. "Yue! Do it now!" Julia growled menacingly and raised her shield, a solid wall of hardened magma. But there was no alpha-strike. Yue was OoM. "Looks like you're out of luck, surfie girl," Julia gloated. "You still gotta get through me." Debora retorted. "Oh, I will, don't you worry." Julia pulled at the sand encasing her legs, surprised that she was in fact, fast-stuck. The surfie girl's Affinity was impressive, even if her spells were lacklustre. "You have a Spirit?" Debora didn't reply. From the expression on her face, it took all her effort to keep Julia pinned. "Your Spirit is wasted on you." Julia grinned at Debora. "Let me show you how a true Transmuter fights." The girl's eyes smouldered. Her grin turned sudden Draconic as her canines distended and her face elongated. "Polymorph!" There was an explosion of magma, the shockwave sending Debora stumbling backwards, shredding her Sand Armour, revealing skin that was raw and scorched beneath. Gwen gasped from the sidelines. Neither Resist Elements nor Sand Armour had been sufficient. "Eek! Debora!" Elvia placed her hand over her mouth, Gwen likewise stood from her seat, her heart hammering at her throat. Debbie's wounds looked like second-degree burns. Gwen couldn't even begin to imagine the pain Debora must be feeling right now. There was no remedy for Gwen's anxiety though; for Debora, Yue and Whetu had a bigger problem of the pseudo-draconic variety. When the spurt of magma faded, the Blackwattle Team was staring up toward a wyvern a full three-meters tall and eight or more meters in length, dripping with magma and snorting gouts of superheated plasma. It was Julia, of course, anyone could see that - but the crowd still began to scream and shout, some with jubilation, others shrieking with fear and panic. The younger girls, especially, were screaming their lungs out. "Oi, fuck me dead!" Yue whined. "FUCK!" Whetu marvelled. They were boned; the Blackwattle trio knew it. Here was what it means to be outclassed and outmatched. Sure, between Debora's Sand and Whetu's Pounamu, they could keep the damn thing kited until they were OOM, but then what? Debora wasn't near strong enough to try and damage a fucking wyvern with Molten Armour. Whetu wasn't equipped either. Yue was OOM already, and even if she weren't, her fire spells weren't going to be spectacular against a Wyvern that was already on fire. There was a decision to be made here, and Whetu knew he had to make the call. "We yield!" He cried out. Yue and Debora both turned to glare at him. "Oi! You two hot water bottles need to cool your jits! There's still a 5v5, and we got no reserve team members, don't get injured!" The girls deflated. "We yield." "I yield." Surprisingly, Julia the Wyvern was a good sport. Julia didn't take the opportunity to injure either Debora nor Yue, for she wanted a proper match up with Gwen at her team's best. She wanted to show the world that Rosebay could best any challengers, no matter how absurd or unique their talent. Julia transformed back. "Winner, Rosebay Academy." The home crowd was wild with immediate jubilation, with the blue-clad girls hugging and applauding and clapping hysterically. Dusty and beaten, the three returned to their team. Elvia immediately began healing Debora, restoring her swollen skin to their usual colour of honeyed copper. "You guys did great!" Gwen assured them. "There was nothing to be done against Julia, don't sweat it! It was a classic bad match up! We didn't know she had access to Tier 4 spells already." "More than that, Tiger" Alesia interjected. Hugging Yue and giving Debora and Whetu a pat on the shoulder. "That girl is absurdly gifted. You can't just turn into a wyvern willy-nilly, you know. She owns a Spirit - a low tier one, probably salvaged from Wildland Lesser Wyvern I'd hazard to guess that its thanks to Magister Ferris over yonder." Alesia indicated at Irene Ferris with her thumb. "Magister of the Tower, and one of the three with their hands in the Grey Market. Not exactly a challenge to trade some human offal for a rare Spirit Core from the Demi-races." "Doesn't change the fact that we lost," Yue said dejectedly. "Sorry." Debora looked the most distraught out of all of them. She looked devastated by the defeat. "Debbie." Gwen reached out and touched her hand. "It's alright. We still have the next match." Debora pulled Gwen closer and buried her head in Gwen's shoulders. "Not now," Alesia announced stoically. "There's still the 5v5, Gwen, what's your take on the wyvern?" "I think I am the only one capable of pushing through that Molten Armour, but I am going to need protection. Whetu?" "Yes?" "Give me full coverage for about four spell cycles. I am going to bury Caliban and then tentacle up. I need ten seconds without interruption." "Got it." "Yue, I need you to provide cover fire, keep their Abjurer and Conjurer distracted, their healer too if you can manage it." "Too easy." "Debs," Gwen continued. "Yes?" "We're going with formative C. I need you to play disruption with the Wyvern. Keep them distracted until my spells are done." "Got it, I'll do my best," Debora promised, putting a hand over her left breast. "Elvia, I am counting on you to keep me up. Both Caliban and the Tentacles are tier 4, and I've pretty sure I can't sustain both for long. Whetu, Elvia is going to be directly behind me, so I am counting on you to take care of us both." "Sweet ass." "Alright, we got about half an hour of rest, let's get some scenarios mapped up!" Alesia watched her sister-in-craft pour over the details with a feeling of accomplishment. To think that almost a year ago, she had picked up a trembling Gwen from her uncle's manor, hands shaking with fright and uncertainty. Watching the kids crunch their strategy, looking at Gwen and her companions, the battle-hardened Magus wondered if by skipping school, she had missed an opportunity for something precious.

Opposite Blackwattle, Rosebay likewise held its strategic meeting, overseen by the Headmistress, Mildred Stone. "Helena and Nancy, full disruption on Gwen Song, as much as you're capable of against their Abjurer." "Got it!" "Will do!" "Bea, full priority on Julia until she buffs up, if Julia buffs up and transforms without incident, the battle is as good as ours." "Yes, Ma'am!" "Jody, keep the team up as long as you're able. Don't be afraid to use your Shield of Faith if Bea's busy shielding Julia." "Acknowledged, Ma'am." "Julia, we're counting on you." "I won't fail you, Ma'am, nor Magister Ferris." Julia placed a hand over her heart. She could feel the Wyvern-soul within, melded into her astral form. It was a rare and precious gift, something that no Mage who gained their boons through monster hunting could ever attain. Humanity didn't have the means to entrap the astral form of Magical Creatures within their Cores— their Essence, escaping. That was a skill which belonged to older, far more attuned magical races. "Remember what I told you, Gwen Song cannot possibly keep up her "unique" ability for long. Likewise, she can't endanger your lives, so use it to your advantage. Take out her healer in your Wyvern form, and the battle is as good as won." "Yes, Ma'am! Please look forward to my performance!" Stone returned to the podium to open the final match. "From Blackwattle High School: Gwen Song, Yue Bai, Debora Jones, Whetu T. Taranga, Elvia Lindholm. From Rosebay Academy: Julia F. Muller, Helen Carter, Beatrice A. Dawson, Jody Klein, and Nancy Hayes!" The crowd cheered. "For the deciding match - Five versus Five group combat." "Adjudicators, please initialise the field. Terrain!" The field shifted, suddenly filled with water and churning with mud. It was a bog! The contestants were suddenly ankle to knee deep in thick, viscous mud that sucked at one's feet. Team Blackwattle looked at one another. It didn't affect their plan, but it wasn't going to make things easier by far. As for the other team, the bloody Wyvern flies. Slogging through the terrain, the team moved into position: Debora and Yue moving to the fore, Whetu in the middle, and Elvia behind Gwen. In opposition, Rosebay seemed much more organised. The girls spaced out expertly as to not get in each other's way, the ranged casters gathering behind the Abjurer, while the healer stood in the middle. Julia was by herself in front, where the earthen Abjurer's frontal shielding could give both herself and her team ample coverage. Julia felt her pulse quicken upon seeing Gwen's figure slogging through the mud. This terrain was a godsend for her. She could fly, while Blackwattle's Transmuter, Debora, had to use Jump. Furthermore, the sticky, viscous mud wreaked havoc on the Sand element of the surfer girl, making her speciality even more limited. Stone waited until both teams had acknowledged their new terrain. "Commence!" Unlike the smaller duels, a cloudburst of colour announced the beginning of the 5v5 contest. The mass-melee was the king of Mage-duel, something that had its origins in the Olympic Arenas of yore. Every four years, all around the world, audiences were glued to their Lumen-casters in public squares, universities, pubs and homes, watching the World Spellcraft Championships. "Bless!" "Sand Armour!" "Resist Elements!" "Quickened Fireball! Empowered Fire Storm!" "Ariel!" Ariel bolted straight for the sidelines, a white streak of moving lightning, its feet barely touching the mud, trying to flank the opposing team. Rosebay likewise reciprocated. "Molten Armour" "Resist Elements!" "Julius! Sleet Storm!" "Fire Ball!" "Bless!" An array of spells opened up the epic combat. It was a pivotal moment, a game of strategy and mental chess. Synergy, prediction, teamwork, only all three could ensure the victory of one team over another. On Gwen's side, Whetu's punamu shield appeared, instantly deflecting the incoming Fireball and Sleet Storm with a crash of splintering green-stone shards. "Firestorm?! Fireball!" Beatrice the Abjurer wailed. She had barely managed to erect her Earthen shield in time when the Fireball exploded over her team. "Shield of Faith!" Their healer, Jody incanted in a panic, just catching the Fireball before it engulfed herself and Helena. "Just hold on!" Julia encouraged her teammates. "I'll pay them back ten-fold!" "Firestorm, incoming!" Helena cried out. This Asian girl was absurd! She was going to burn all her mana in two spells?! Again, Helena retracted her spirit, Julius, and used him to form an aura of ice so that the rising temperature caused by the Firestorm would not harm her teammates. "Polymorph!" Julia had matured her Molten Armour and was now ready to transform into a living coup-de-grace. Her morphic field began to shift, though without the explosion of magma this time as she was among allies. SPAK! SPAK! SPAK! A cascade of lightning-tinged needles washed over Julia. Where the hell did that come from? She scanned the battlefield and caught a mongoose of all things taunting her. "It's her Familiar! Get it off of me!" Julia commanded. Nancy, the Fire Evoker, began a barrage of Fire Bolts towards the edge of the field when Ariel gave her a swish of its tail and let loose a burst of electrical-darts. It took all of Beatrice's concentration to shield Nancy from the paralysing assault. Was it hard to shield against a Firestorm? Of course, absurdly so. Though the spell originally manifested Ice, Yue's ridiculous Affinity meant that the invocation resembled a small meteor shower. Each falling debris that materialised and fell was a ball of unstable plasma, exploding on impact into a shower of heat filled destruction. So long as Yue kept up the channel, the meteors manifested unceasingly, striking without order, making defence nigh-impossible. Beatrice cursed under her breath. All she could do was maximise her mana usage and form semi-spherical domes of protection above all her companions. Usually, the Evoker was OOM long before the Abjurer. In this, Beatrice was confident. Mana pools, more formally known as VMI— Volumetric Mana Index, was a fact of Spellcraft that couldn't be mitigated by effort. No matter how gifted a student could be, how able they were in the development of Spellcraft - there was a hard limitation on the growth of one's mana reserves. Not even a strict diet of the best Wildland materials could supersede this fact, only expedite its growth. The advantage of a well-provisioned Mage, therefore, was an accumulation of both time and resource. "I got this—" Just as she was about to declare that she could hold the fort steady, there was a loud crack and a blast of light so bright that her retinas seared, turning her mind white with wonder. A spike of painful tinnitus stabbed violently into her ears that for a second, she blanked out. The girls from Rosebay were well trained, but they were far too green. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Without warning, the Firestorm broke through the Abjurer's shielding and descended. Gwen had refrained from casting her spells precisely because she was waiting for the Firestorm to hit. It was a strategy that she had worked out with Yue and the crew precisely because she had an unusual, nonlethal AOE signature spell - Flashbang. It would work only once - and now was the time. As Julia began her exultant transformation, Gwen let loose the most potent Flashbang she could muster right between the five from the Rosebay team, behind Julia and in front of her companions. She especially placed the conjured explosion directly under the dome created by the Abjurer - utilising one of the Lightning element's most overpowered characteristics - the ability to manifest at a designated point in space without a projectile trajectory. A split-second later, the signature invocation erupted in a cacophony of light and sound, amplified by the half-dome above the Abjurer. The spell had disoriented them all, but the refracted sound waves striking the Abjurer had stunned her so magnificently that the girl appeared to have lost consciousness for half a second. Instantly, the Abjurer's earthen dome crumbled. With a grunt, Yue pushed downward with both hands, channelling the last of her mana into the Firestorm. Her objective accomplished. Gwen focused on setting a welcome for the Wyvern. "Beatrice!" Julia was beyond livid when she realised that their Abjurer had failed them and that an empowered Firestorm as about to wipe out four members of her team. With a heavy conscience, she ignored her team and instead focused on her Molten Armour. What was done, was done, Julia had to even the playing field in other ways. With a lunge, she pushed herself from the swampy bog, her new wyvern-form taking flight and moving towards the Blackwattle Team. "Minor Stone Shape!" Julia had made it about half-a-meter when she realised that her hind legs were tethered to something in the bog, weight down by what felt like two giant ball-and-chains fastened to her body. She arched her serpentine neck above the duelling-field and saw the surfer girl, both arms up to her elbows in the mud, manipulating the sand as an undercurrent beneath the transmuted mud. "Insolence!" the Wyvern roared. Julia shot a blast of superheated air towards the Transmuter girl, but a green-stone shield of honeycombed punamu appeared before Debora and intercepted the destructive force of the breath. Julia could hear her teammates whimpering behind her, incensing her to greater violence. With a furious tug, she forced her body into the air, pulling up two thick tendrils of sand still tethered around her ankles. "I can't hold her any longer!" Julia heard the surfer girl cry out in alarm, her head now full of heat and vengeance. With a roar, she dived toward the Blackwattle party, toward Gwen, toward the healer hidden behind her. If Julia could just take out Gwen, take out the healer supporting her, then victory was still possible! Even with the loss of four members of their team, Julia felt she could do it! She was the chosen Praetorian. Magister Ferris had the highest hopes for her! How could she fail, especially after the fiasco of their 1v1? The Wyvern came. The plan was working. "Debora, good work! Finish off the stragglers!" Gwen called out. "Yue, get behind Whetu, recover some mana!" "Whetu! Priority shielding on Elvia, I can't keep my spells up without her!" "Aye!" A shadow befell them, an angry wyvern dripping with Magma was hovering a dozen meters above them, glowing with Magma. Julia dived. Irene Ferris was fuming with frustration, gripping the arms of her Edwardian settee with disappointment and defeat. When the empowered Firestorm descended, she knew instantly that their chances for victory had gone to the dogs. Who'd thought that the little harlot had a signature spell, one that she'd never seen before? What was it? Flashbang? An interesting concept, but one that heavily borrowed the instantaneous qualities of spatial manifestation associated with Quasi-Elemental Lightning. Who had invented it? A unique, elemental-specific spell. Was it the man beside her? Was it the little witch herself? Rosebay's Abjurer was a good as gone after that resonating blast of light and sound. Without shielding, the healer was useless too, as they lacked mass-healing at the lower tiers. The Conjurer was doing her best to keep the flames at bay, but it was a futile gesture. Their own Fire Evoker had done her best, but between the harassment by that mongoose and that strange green mineral shielding, she may as well be absent. Was it a problem of skill? No, Irene knew that the girls were well trained and far exceeded the level of expertise expected of their age. It was instead a problem of application, an issue of combat experience. The Blackwattle team had seen far more action, somehow. Their Evoker, the Asian girl, gave an air of destructive intent that Irene had seen on veterans. The green-stone Mage, likewise, was too well trained to be a member of a public school. Even the mediocre Transmuter had a mid-tier spirit that could shape sand. In addition to Gwen Song's presence, why was there an all-star team from a school as poor and neglected as Blackwattle? How did they even manage to throw the oddball bunch together? Irene looked over at Henry Kilroy, who was sipping his Golden Mead and nodding to himself with every other spell exchange. "Helen Carter, out!" "Beatrice Dawson, out!" "Jody Klein, out!" "Nancy Hayes, out!" Ferris' protege, Mildred Stone, looked as though she was spitting blood as she announced each of the girls who yielded. But, there was hope yet. Julia's Wyvern had almost reached Gwen Song. If she could take out the Void girl and her healer, then it was all over. Gwen's felt her vitality drain away. Was it possible for a person to feel hollow? She wondered. It was the first time that she had consciously pushed herself so far. Elvia too, felt her reserve of positive energy rapidly exhaust itself. It was as though a Nosferatu had suddenly drained the warmth from her veins and replaced it with arcane ice. She grew instantly rigid, her limited mana pool incapable of keeping up with the demand of Gwen's output. Above, the Wyvern was descending from a terrific arc, approaching them with the force of a freight train that was disastrously also on fire. Gwen waited until the Wyvern skimmed the pond, then released the last part of the spell she'd been holding steady at the cost of her vitality. "Dark Tentacles!" Gwen's 'tentacles' didn't sprout from the ground as the spell had initially intended, but directly as a writhing mass anchored onto thin air, growing like an angry sea anemone and flailing like the tendrils of a carrion crawler. The watching crowd suddenly held their breath as a feeling of disgust and vertigo swept over them. Julia knew that the tentacles were supremely dangerous, but she had no recourse— like a shot from a bow, her trajectory was set in stone. She flew headfirst into the mass, feeling it envelop her molten armour. Immediately, Julia knew she was in dire danger. If the tendrils were flesh, they would have burned. If they were material, they would have crumbled. Yet what element was this? It was as though ropes that had no mortal existence held her imprisoned. Furthermore, they seemed to be consuming the mana from her armour! With each passing second, she could feel the tentacles wrapping themselves tighter around her wyvern form, stripping away chunks of her carapace, scraping hungrily at the layer below to pry at her flesh. "Lightning Tentacles!" Yet another layer of tentacles wrapped around Julia, this time lashes of lightning that didn't so much as entangle her as wildly flay away at her skin, sending more pieces of molten carapace flying away like charred, dark china. Julia twisted her sinuous head so that she faced Gwen, who was concentrating on her spells while the petite healer hid behind her. Both girls had complexions whiter than bedsheets. She drew in a mighty breath and launched a jet stream of superheated flames towards Gwen, hoping that it would disrupt the channelling of these ridiculous tentacles that had her entrapped. "Wall of Sand!" "Punamu Shield!" "Shield of Faith!" A triple layer of shielding erupted. The force of the breath blasted through the sand wall and struck the punamu shield, crushing it. The glowing shield unique to the healer class dissipated the remaining elemental damage. Gwen Song didn't even flinch. Julia felt the flower of despair beginning to blossom within her chest, the confidence and bluster of mere moments ago withered. But she wasn't about to just give up, Julia's pride wouldn't allow her to yield. There was one more gamble she could participate in, a final chance to set the record straight and prove that she was better than these yokels. "Polymorph!" To Gwen and the others' surprise, their target disappeared. Julia had become a flaming peregrine a hundred times smaller than her wyvern form, flying towards Gwen in the hopes of physically assaulting her in her Human shape. The twin-tentacle spells automatically reached for their target, but Julia was far too swift. She edged closer to Gwen, the distance between them disappearing entirely in an instant. This was it! Julia thrilled. Her victory was assured! She could almost see Gwen Song's amber-green pupils now; her reflection refracted within Gwen's eyes. In a moment she would expend the last of her mana to dispell her avian form, then she would pin this upstart into the ground. "HALT! BLACKWATTLE WINS!" The voice of Irene Ferris cried out like a thunderclap across the duelling field, amplified by a Clarion Call. Julia banked in her avian form, throwing her body to a screeching aerial tumble before return to her human form to stare at her Grandmaster in disbelief. Why? She wanted to know. Why did the Grandmaster announce their loss? Up above against the podium's iron railing, Irene Ferris's chest rose and fell. She turned towards Henry Kilroy; her Divination-empowered eyes were alive with shock and horror. As a Diviner, she was rarely, if ever caught unaware. Yet today, she was the victim of one upset another after another. "Henry," she said quietly, trying to find a better word but failing to. "What the hell did I just foresee?"

Diviners are a strange breed of Mages. Diviners are the dowsing rods of the Spellcraft world, sensing danger by splitting the threads of probability. Yet, who could say that the stream of potential would remain unperturbed if a stone displaced the water? Fate was a fatal trio, or so the Greeks foretold— a cabal of incidence and chance. The sisters are fickle, and a change of luck brought untold, unforeseen calamities. The great American Diviner, Edward N. Lorenzo, once stated that chance was as delicate as a butterfly's wings - that one wrong flutter lead to hurricanes on the opposite side of the world. Though hyperbolic, Lorenzo's warning regarding the dangers of unmitigated uses of Divination struck a chord with Magi and Magus of the craft, ultimately endorsed by the "Oracle" of Delphi herself. Nonetheless, despite all the trials and tests carried out by Diviners in the age of objective Spellcraft, no answer could be found as to how their spells foretold the future. In any case, Lorenzo's warning endured. Disasters were predicted and mitigated - but never averted. The public trust in Diviners remained sceptical. However, that didn't mean Divination itself was unimportant to the Mageocracy by any means. The lower tier spells, perfected by Spellcraft research, worked wonders for Mages surviving in the wilderness or trawling through a Demi-human dungeon. Detect Magic, Detect Traps, Detect Thoughts, these were mainstays of the Divining school. Likewise, Message, the quintessential spell in an age of information, was only made possible by weaving Divining scripts into augur devices, searching out individual recipients amongst the numberless multitude of humanity. Likewise, for a globalising Mageocracy, the advent of enchantments utilising Tongues in conjunction with Message devices furthermore created possibilities of human communities working together as one to repeal the advancing tide of Magical Creatures. As such, in a practical sense, Diviners were lauded and protected, much like the Clerical Healers, whose presence were essential for the survival of humanity in a hostile world. These reasons were why Magister Irene Ferris of the Ordo Oceania was first and foremost a Diviner, then an Enchanter, followed by her ongoing vocation in the School of Illusion. As a bloodline caster from a long line of Diviners, she could tap into the streams of the uncertain future, to read the eddies and currents of its passing. So long as it involved herself directly. Could she foretell the future? No. Irene had not once inferred that she at all possessed such means. She was a master of the Scry, not a master of unthreading the infinitely complex sisal knots of fate. What she possessed was instead a supernatural ability to sense danger, both for herself and those close to her. It wasn't something that foretold the future— but it had earned her enough prestige and support in her younger days to gather the necessary resources to achieve the rank of Magus in her thirties, and then Magister in her fifties. Lucky Irene, they called her. Her combat teams always escaped imminent danger. Her expeditions had avoided every ambush. Her experiments in Alchemy and Enchantment rarely went awry. Slowly but surely, she gained a seat on Oceania's Grey Faction— becoming one of the three Magisters who believed in communicating and trading with the Demi-humans. Under her watchful eye, the Tower experimented with extra-species trade, bringing boons and gifts otherwise unattainable for the nation. Rosebay was her mother-school. Irene possessed fond memories of the place; with its stern-faced but kind-hearted nuns who had been so good to her. As a Magister, she had used her influence to build the school into something marvellous and extraordinary. An Orthodox Catholic school, no matter how wealthy, struggled to escape its Frontier status. With her influence and the Grey Market, however, Irene could provide the school with a plethora of resources available only to the colleges linked to London, like Prince's. Julia Fiore Muller was one such talent Irene had uncovered. Julia was a prodigy of the Transmutation school with a ten-thousand-in-one talent of Para-Elemental Magma. Were it not for the fact that the girl was a Transmuter-Abjurer— Irene would have taken Julia on as her Apprentice. The IIUC was Julia's chance to shine; then unexpectedly, like a bad joke, her protege was defeated by Gwen Song. Irene didn't know what to think other than how deep Henry Kilroy had hidden his pet sorceress. She could hardly keep her own heart from wringing in her chest when the girl demonstrated a talent Irene had only read in the Tower's annals. A Void Mage. There had been a Void Mage in the past - Henry's infamous wife, Elizabeth Winsted Sobel, who had died while serving in Europe. The girl, Gwen Song, even looked like Elizabeth in her dossier photos - dark hair, bright eyes, pale white skin that had an ethereal, deathly pallor. Irene had never met Henry's late wife, but like all Mage who grew up during that time, she had heard of the legend. Elizabeth was the woman whose involvement in the war forced the Mermen to relocate their cities, whose Void abilities had frightened the superstitious Saurians into the deep Queensland jungle for two decades. Now, Henry Kilroy was raising another Void Mage. Irene couldn't even begin to imagine the ramifications of that decision. Irene was a Magister who believed in mutual co-existence with the Demi-human races. She wanted to see a world where man and the magical races were made equals, respected one another, engaged in open trade. She loathed the notion that Mages hid behind the Shield Walls and pretended those other races, whose age and existence far exceeded humanity, didn't exist. Now she must entertain the possibility that Henry Kilroy could somehow reignite the Mageocracy's glorious past. What would happen when his Void Mage matured? Would Gwen Song bring about another renaissance of human dominion in the region? Would the tribal Demi-humans again fall to their knees in helpless worship of a power they could not resist nor repel? More questions awaited her deliberation, but Irene had no more time to think. The battle reached its climax and Irene saw her protege use yet another Polymorph to escape the Dark Tentacles. It was a good move, Julia was deserving of her title as a genius of the Transmutation school. Then Irene saw it. When the vision came, Irene herself was astounded by its intensity. It had been some time since she felt that familiar rush of crisis that played like a stop-motion montage before her mind's eye. After all, a Magister rarely ventured out to risk their skin. They had other Mages for that, and Irene was a capable administrator. It was only a flash, but what Irene saw a horrid sight that knotted her guts and set her spine quivering with alarm. Pale skin. An alien swarm. Void. Tendrils. Lamprey's mouth. Shattered glass. Blue eyes. Blood and offal. Irene had no idea what it meant, but she was confident that it had to do with the pale-skinned, blue-eyed girl before her. And that was why she launched herself at the rails and demanded the cessation of combat. Her grand-student, Julia, stopped; she transformed back and stared accusingly at her Grandmaster. Irene felt her blouse drenched in cold sweat. She turned to Henry Kilroy. The man must know; the damned old codger had to know. "Henry," she said quietly, her mind lost for words. "What the hell did I just foresee?" Henry Kilroy, Master of the Ten and head of the Ordo Arcanum Oceania, felt utterly vindicated. His student, Gwen Song, was enduring the Void Element, learning to abuse its strengths and circumvent its weaknesses. Furthermore, she had none of that paranoid insecurity that his wife had shown, no waking nightmares that he knew of, no fits of rage and destruction that required copious volumes of his life-force to sedate. No accidental diminishments of innocent life that were needed to feed an endless, voracious hunger. At least, not yet. Hopefully, with his guidance, Gwen would grow into a fine young sorceress, one that would bring hope and prosperity to the Frontier. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. "If you must know." Irene's opponent raised a cup mead to his lips and took a casual, languishing sip. "I must charge a price." "What does the mighty Henry Kilroy desire?" Irene asked drily, licking her parched lips. To her surprise, the underdressed Dryad passed her a wooden cup of the golden liquid. Irene couldn't help but notice a distinct similarity between the Dryad and Gwen, forcing her to raise an eyebrow. "Thank you, dear," Irene replied politely, allowing the mead to touch her lips. She tasted the vitality brimming about the viscous liquid, shooting down her throat like a surge of wildfire. Though only for a moment, Irene felt a few years younger. No wonder they call him Deathless Henry, Irene pondered to herself. The man drank the manna of the Gods like a clerk drinking cheap coffee. How much life did Henry have stored in that body? Irene couldn't begin to imagine what capabilities Henry hid underneath that decrepit visage of mild senility. Henry continued. "I desire your dire confidence in exchange for information on the Void Element, as well as a token gift as an assurance for my future apprentice." "You're that confident in me, are you?" Irene scoffed. "Should I not trust you?" Henry offered serenely. "Are we not colleagues?" Irene sipped the mead, but couldn't help but think of her vision. It had felt so real. If so, had she averted disaster? If so, it would be a first. "I want to know what that thing is, Henry," Irene said seriously, thinking of her vision. She had to confirm the thing that she saw. Was Gwen the reason for that flashforward? If so, Irene might have to exercise extreme prejudice against Henry's Apprentice. It wasn't going to be pretty. "Are we friends, Irene?" Henry said. "As a Diviner, what do you think of Gwen and her prospects?" The man may have misunderstood Irene's intense interest, but he wasn't about to let an advantage just escape his grasp. Irene understood that after Magister Walken's antagonism, Henry was offering the Grey Faction an olive branch. That way, he could both gain something for Gwen, as well as resolve some of the tension their factions shared. After all, Gwen would likely be as pivotal to Sydney's future. The Void sorceress could be their boon, or she could be the bane. For now, it was best to pay up. Irene had to confirm if the girl indeed was the second coming of Sobel. Irene vehemently slid something from her finger and tossed it towards Henry. Sufina caught the trinket before it reached her Master. She opened her palm carefully and presented the prize. "Are you sure, Irene? Your's is a rare gift." "I am not professing to be her enemy, not unless you're going to die anytime soon." She shrugged, relaxing her shoulders. Henry chuckled. "I believe the Cathedral has a confessional cloister, no? I shall bring Gwen there. We will need some privacy if you wish to see Gwen's Void Beast." Irene nodded, the space on her right ring finger felt poignantly amiss. "Did you apprentice the girl yet?" she asked. "What do you think?" "Not publicly, though?" "I shall, soon." "I see." Irene flew from the balcony, aided by Winged Boots under her robes, appearing as a vision of calm and authority. She drifted gently towards the Rosebay team. All of the girls were crying, a few bawled, while others hung their heads in shame. "Girls." Irene opened her arms. "Don't be upset. You did your best." Conversely, Gwen's team embraced and hug. Watching his secret Apprentice, Henry felt such joy and delight that his complexion grew pink. Quietly, he coughed once, his old wounds stabbing like knives into his diaphragm. In the next moment, he felt seized by a violent fit, and it took his all to suppress the wrenching muscles rioting within his chest. "Give this to Gwen, Sufina. Tell her to meet me the cloister once she is finished— There is no rush. I need some time to recollect my old bones." Sufina touched a wooden finger down the curvature of her Master's gaunt face; then she was away. Gwen meanwhile was entirely in a world filled with jubilation. Teamwork! Accomplishment! Victory! Besides Gwen, Yue was pumping her fists in the air in a most un-ladylike manner, shouting the occasion obscenity to their mutual embarrassment. Elvia's face was plump full of apple-pink excitement, breathing heavily and excitedly through her cute button nose. Debora remained disbelieving that they had won, and was looking around with a dazed expression, savouring the moment. Only Whetu seemed like he'd expected it all along, and was happy to stand grinning besides the huddle of girls giggling like a gaggle of geese. Gwen watched Sufina lower herself via a tendril to the training grounds, striding upon her long, stilt-like legs towards the team before embracing her with such force that the wood creaked. "You've made Master very proud, and very happy. Here, your reward." Sufina urged Gwen to open her palm. Gwen complied and was gifted yet another ring. "Thanks, Sufi, you helped me a lot in training as well, this is as much our effort as it is yours also." Gwen praised her Master's companion. "What's this?" "From Magister Ferris." Sufina grinned suggestively. "She wanted to know more about you, and Master sold you for this ring." Gwen made a face. The Dryad laughed. "Master says to take your time. He's going to have a rest." Gwen returned her attention to the ring. "What does it do?" she asked, sizing the magical trinket on her right index finger. "It's a Ring of Evasion," Sufina explained. "It has an enchantment carved into the core of a displacer beast, which allows better survival against AoEs, sometimes." "Sometimes?" "Who knows?" Sufina shrugged. "They were pretty common in the war; all the high-level Maguses had one. It's a Diviner—luck thing." "Sufi's right," Alesia, the team's instructor, wrapped an arm around Gwen's shoulders. She flashed her dainty looking hand, and Gwen noticed that three of Alesia's fingers possessed Rings. "I got one too, saved my ass more than a few times." Gwen examined her new ring appreciatively before slipping it upon her right index finger, observing the band contract until it attained a snug fit. She didn't feel any different, seeing as the phenomenon was reactive. "Gwen! Join the huddle!" Yue urged. It was embarrassing, but Gwen joined nonetheless. Even Alesia joined in. "All for one!" Gwen tried again. "For Blackwattle!" "For Gwen!" "To you guys!" "Huzzah!" Oh well, Gwen thought. Maybe she has to pen the story first. If so, she would have to adjust the context to fit the nature of her new world. In her story, Yue, Debora, and Elvia would be Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. For as D'Artagnan had changed his life by defeating Cardinal Richelieu's guards and wounding Jussac; so Gwen had now changed her life and the lives of her companions by entering into the Inter-High. Gwen thought about what her Master had told her and pondered the road ahead. The victory was merely the crack in the door; now, she had to wedge it open. "Gwen!" Her mental celebration was interrupted by a pair of warm, moist hands that grasped her own. Gwen looked up to see Debora, her eyes gleaming with emotion. "Thank you, Gwen, for giving me this opportunity," Debora intoned. "I don't know what I would have done without you." "You did your very best, Debs." Gwen hugged Debora. "You deserve everything." Unexpectedly, they were joined by the Magister Irene Ferris, together with the representatives from Rosebay. "Girls, congratulations, you as well, Mr Taranga. Magus de Botton, it is good to see that you remain so lively." "Magister." Alesia inclined her head, barely. "Magister!" Gwen and the girls curtsied more meaningfully. Whetu likewise bowed smartly, bending his body to achieve the desired state of genuflection. "A most astounding victory, Gwen Song. I had no idea Magister Kilroy had a trump card such as yourself, hidden so well." "You jest, Ma'am," Gwen replied formally. "I am a novice." "Hardly. Anyway, as I am sure you know by now, these are the girls whom you had bested. They wish to exchange greetings with your team." "It would be both an honour and a pleasure, Ma'am." Gwen curtsied again. The girls from the two schools then exchanged handshakes. When Julia and Gwen passed one another, she felt the larger girl grip her hand, her eyes full of both conviction and tenacity. "I won't lose next time. I hope your future victories will bring greater glory to our re-match." Julia shook Gwen's hand with deliberate slowness. "Sure thing, I'll be waiting," Gwen replied seriously. "It was a good fight. I'll be watching you." "As will I." Meanwhile, the other girls were all making moon-eyes at Whetu, making him glower a shade of carmine over his mocha skin. "Are those tattoos real?" "What are your sizes? Your arms are massive!" "Mmm, his legs are like tree trunks." "Huge feet." "You know what they say about huge feet." "Shush! The Magister is right there..." Irene Ferris found back the unease that still haunted her Divination senses. Watching the youths exchange greetings and establish rivalries and friendships, Irene Ferris took the opportunity to examine Gwen up close, to see if she could discern what had made the girl so dangerous. With great subtlety, she activated an array of detection spells, indulging her eyes with a silently enabled True Sight. She first scanned the Blackwattle students, noting the motes of mana cascading from the Evoker and the Transmuter. The Mineral Mage, Whetu, was an array of mixed elements, both Positive and Earthen. Beside the boy, De Botton was a fount of fire. Gwen Song was an interesting exercise in itself. The girl had motes of mana that seemed to circulate her in oppositional pairs. Irene squinted, there was something else as well, a strange mix of primary elements that reminded her of Henry's Dryad - Sufina. Had Deathless Henry marked the girl already? That was no surprise, though. Irene would have done the same in his shoes. Just as Irene was about to speak, she again felt her hair rise to a stand-still. Without warning, Irene's ocean-blue eyes clouded over with a faraway look as a vision took her. Void. Cathedral. Mermen. Panic. Shatter. Pain. Despair. Void. Students. "Ma'am?" The Magister felt her consciousness return. The vision consumed no more than a second. "Ma'am?" Gwen Song was addressing her with a puzzling look. "Gwen Song…" Irene tried to reply but became struck by yet another dire omen. Irene knew that her visions had a particular aspect to them - they only applied to a crisis that Irene herself was about to experience. Any moment now, shit was going to hit the fan. A hundred questions assailed the Diviner. Why would the defeated Mermen assault the city now? How could they get past the Shield Wall? Was her vision a snapshot of a future foretold? "Gwen Song…" Irene repeated herself, lost in her thoughts, watching Gwen patiently and politely awaiting her response. Where was the danger though? The visions hadn't involved the only two Mages who could challenge her here, Henry and Alesia. Irene Ferris studied Gwen's face, noting with surprise that unlike when Gwen was in combat, her eyes were, in fact, a vividly striking amber-green. "Aeeeeeeeargh! NO!" A sudden shriek disrupted Irene's riotous train of thought. Besides the girls, Sufina fell to the floor and began to scream. As a Dryad, the Demi-human's soul-rending cry was a primal outpouring of ear-splitting agony. Instantly, Sufina withered, her green bower limbs grew old and dry, and her branches shedding its emerald cargo. The Dryad appeared to shrink at once, her stature diminishing immensely, transforming from a lithe doppelganger of Gwen into a sickly girl-child. The girls around Irene seemed stunned by the sudden transformation. Irene, however, kicked her mind into overdrive. Had something or someone attacked Henry Kilroy? Who'd dare attack the Deathless magister of Oceania himself? What on earth could do so much damage to the most potent soul-linked Familiar Irene had ever known? Her academic mind wanted answers. But her Divination had other ideas. It told her to run.

Like most classic Edwardian designs, the cathedral's soaring frontage began with twin columns of stained glass split across two towers. Its adjacent buildings came later, built along rectangular walkways with an elegantly arched gallery that ran the length of the back quadrangle. Together, the system of buildings formed a kind of abstract cross-section, linking the cathedral, the old covenant, and the newer quarters for student and staff. And in between the shadow of Rosebay's high walls and impressive pillars, ran the cloister. To access its pious serenity, one must first venture through the property's side corridors before coming into the quad, an elegant garden adorned with a central water-feature of chubby cherubs at play. Henry Kilroy, Master of Sydney Tower, quietly pushed through the entry and allowed himself into the sanctified space. He had never been a religious man. The horrors of the Brisbane Line and the Coral Sea had made sure of that - but it didn't mean he couldn't feel the pietistic peace that resonated in places of worship such as these. He walked along the arcade but didn't venture into the centre, where the garden stood, satisfied that at this moment, in this place, there was peace enough for an old scarecrow. The tranquillity allowed his beaten body a sense of restfulness. He no longer felt so fatigued by the many burdens strapped onto his war-wary back, gaining a little understanding of why some Mages could stomach the tedium of becoming a monastic scholar. As he made the rounds through the gallery, he noted a door that was ajar, from within which a warm light permeated. Though it wasn't in his character to be a stickybeak, Henry felt curiously drawn. Mayhap it was the mood of the place. Or perhaps, it was the triumph of his apprentice; Henry Kilroy felt such invigoration in years. Shuffling quietly, he moved into place as to avoid disturbing whoever was in prayer. In front of him was a shine, a small one converted from what must have been a storeroom. Within, he saw the petite figure of a nun, a young one from the looks of it, kneeling before a Sacred-Heart altar. A sense of déjà vu engendered, as delicate as gossemer. There was something familiar about it the scene— a chamber lit by low candles, dozens of them, encompassing an intimate space that was flicking with haunting shadows. The altar itself was nothing unusual, a few candelabras with dribbling wax, a container of incense smoking quietly, beside a statue of Mother Mary maternally offering the benediction. There was a sense of nostalgia, too, one that brought on an acute heartache. Softly, Henry tapped the double-doors, wincing as the hinges groaned. "You came," a strangely familiar voice addressed his disturbance. It was the nun. "I had waited an eternity." "Do I know you?" Henry inquired, the timbre of his voice quivered with unbidden disbelief. "Has it been that long?" came a reply both melodious and sultry. "It breaks my heart to hear that you have forgotten your dearest after only three decades." The nun stood slowly, the loose habit falling about her small, petite figure. It hid the woman's figure well, but Henry could recognise the silhouette anywhere, underneath anything. He knew that body all too intimately. Henry wordlessly watched the unveiling of the spectacle before him. It was impossible, of course, that this might be happening. He'd seen the woman die, after all. Mark, who had hated her more than anything, had verified that there were no traces of her left. There was no returning from the Void. Mark hard verified it. But then again, the neophyte Necromancer had also stated that he was wrong. Mark had told him that Elizabeth didn't respond to the summoning of the dead. The nun slowly turned her face; Henry's breath quickened. First came the blue eyes, so blue they were the sky and the ocean, baby-blue, like lapis laid within sapphires, blue enough to make him ache. Then, that unforgettable face, the small button nose, the delicate English features, the elegant cheekbones, the well-framed chin, the curvature of her jaws. Her red lips, like a dash of vermillion, fresh as blood, bright as ruby against a complexion of pearl. "Impossible, how?" Henry mouthed, his mind reeling with shock. "Hello, Henry. Did you miss me?" the nun asked winningly, her lips blossoming as she spoke. There was a winsome quality to it all that stunned him. "Don't recognise your beloved anymore?" "Elizabeth..." Elizabeth ran her hand over her habit. To Henry's surprise, it fell away into nothing, as though the cotton was only a wisp rather than a piece of cloth. She was now resplendent in a white chiffon tulip-dress, just as he remembered her, the last morning he'd kissed her goodbye as she ventured into the Hungarian town. Henry swallowed as her voluminous dark hair fell about her head and shoulders, framing her lovely, heart-shaped face. "How can you..?" "Be alive?" "Be still so young..." Elizabeth giggled; her laughter tinkled like a nightingale's trill. "Do you remember the vineyard, Henry? It was nice, wasn't it?" "The vineyard…yes, it was nice," Henry choked, his voice trembling. "It was our private paradise." "Paradise... yes." "Do you recall? What do you remember?" What does he remember? Henry tried to think, but his mind felt as though smothered with wool. All thoughts of Gwen, of Sufina, of Irene, of Rosebay, fell away, replaced by faraway bedroom. There was Elizabeth, asleep, buried in a tangled mass of soft pillows and white sheets. Her complexion was bloodless, her aristocratic veins blue against her flawless skin. She slept carelessly, a wayward sheet scandalously covering her body, her petite breasts forming the slightest of mounds. Henry savoured the moment, for here in one bed lay his whole-wide world. Henry smiled. Lizzie was right; those were the happiest days of his life. What was his life now? Endless days of dealing with the petty politicking of the Tower; training an Apprentice that may one day usurp him— dealing with ingrates who disobeyed his orders and had the intelligence of a mallet. Moulding another Void Mage to show the world he was right? What an absurd idea. He thought instead of the past, of those days after the war in Hungary. He could sense it now, he could feel it! He smelled her sweet scent upon his collar. And there she was! Elizabeth— twirling in a white chiffon tulip dress that reached her knees. He felt overwhelmed with joy; his heart seized with happiness. Unbidden, Elizabeth now languished on their bed, stretching as the white sheets slid from her torso. The bay windows were ajar, and the careless wind lifted the curtains playfully. He blushed as his wife laughed, moving to close the drapes, her riotous tittering behind him as she pulled him back to bed. In the next moment, Elizabeth greedily stabbed at a Presszókávé and Flódni. Henry smiled when his wife's small red mouth caked with crumbling bits of sweetness. Lizzie closed her eyes and savoured the taste. She looked like an angel. Visions upon visions assailed Henry. He was drunk on the nostalgia, intoxicated with illusory happiness. Henry felt blissful at last. Happy enough that he could let go of the crisis of the moment. Glad enough, that he hardly noticed the dark things slithering from the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void, birthing onto the floor wetly. As one, the creatures' lamprey's mouth opened and closed, revealing barbed-teeth and curious, pink tongues. The lamprey things coiled along Henry's body, attaching themselves here and there. To his arms and legs, to his neck, to his torso. With a nod from their mistress, they began to feed. "Gwen! Do you know where Master has gone?" Alesia was shouting, her voice ringing with fury and alarm. "Sufina said to meet him in the cloister behind the Cathedral." Gwen couldn't make head nor tails of the chaos. The Dryad was fine one moment— then screaming and shrivelling the next. "Stay here! I'll check it out!" Before Gwen could say another word, Alesia uttered the incantation for Flight and launched herself into the air, making a bee-line for the quadrangle. "Be careful!" Gwen shouted at her sister-in-craft. She turned her attention back towards Sufina, whose child-like form was even now visibly becoming weaker, her bark-like skin crusty with old age, what little leaves that remained rapidly fell from the vines that made up her hair. Gwen knelt beside the dryad and placed her hands upon the woodland-being, wondering if she could somehow transfer the vital energy of the scale which she loved so dearly. A dozen possibilities flitted across her mind. She didn't know much about Dryads, but she wasn't about to do nothing. "Elvia! I need positive channels now! Jody, you too, please! Any other healers?! Please! We need your help!" Elvia didn't question Gwen's command. She immediately dropped to one knee and began pumping Sufina full of vital energy. Jody looked at Julia, who nodded, and likewise began to channel a flood of positive mana into the Dryad. Immediately, the healers knew that something was awry. "Arrrgh!" Elvia fell backwards, but her hand was still firmly attached to Sufina. "Gwen! Something's got me! It's draining us! I can't release the conduit!" "Julia!" Jody screamed, "I can't let go!" Both Gwen and Julia cursed and reached out to embrace their friend, physically pulling them away from the frozen and unmoving form of Sufina by tugging in opposite directions. The girls parted from the Dryad; their bodies fell, akimbo with flailing limbs. "Something is draining her vitality," Jody stuttered, weak with exhaustion. "It's true." Elvia's complexion was a laundered sheet. "It feels like when you're using my positive channelling to fuel your spells, but far hungrier and malicious." Gwen gazed in the direction of the cathedral. She had to find Henry somehow. Sufina wasn't completely withered yet, and that meant her Master was alive. She just had to stop whatever was draining her Master, and by that extension, Sufina. What was Alesia doing anyhow? She wondered. Had she found Master yet? This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. She looked towards Magister Ferris, who still seemed paralysed by it all. The Magister appeared to be caught in a continuous vision, her mind not entirely in the present. She was now staring towards the ocean, towards the Shield Wall. Gwen followed her gaze, feeling a knot tighten in her gut. She too was suddenly overcome with an ominous surge premonition. "Magister—" she began. _BOOM—CRACK!_ An explosion in the distance drowned her appeal. There was a shimmer at the edge of the horizon, akin to the flash one saw when a bolt of lightning lit up the outback sky in silvered silhouettes. Then an all-enveloping explosion rocked Sydney Harbour, sending out a rippling shockwave of white churning water. _BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—_ Another and another, and another explosion rang out, a dozen in all. The gathered host of school girls stared at the horizon, unable to comprehend what was happening to their peaceful world. The senior Mages all knew though, especially those of them that had survived the Coral Sea conflict. They'd seen it once before and had hoped never to see it again. The Shield Barrier had collapsed. Here and now, Sydney was a sitting duck. Gunther Shultz stopped mid-sentence during his dressing-down of the Tower's new Acolytes. The Mages before him regarded their instructor quizzically, wondering why their austere preceptor had paused. They were all elites, graduates from the top-tier universities, ranging from Senior Mages skilled in their craft to young Magus coming into their power. By becoming members of the Tower, they gained access to the Tower's resource and knowledge, as well as the potential to be apprenticed under one of the Magisters. "Whoa—" An abrupt shudder shook the antechamber, sending a few of the acolytes skittering across the atrium floor. Gunther furrowed his luxuriant brows, his instincts informing him that a catastrophe had just occurred. _DING! DING! DING—_ Then a dozen Message spells struck him at once, blasting coloured Glyphs visible only to himself. He picked one from his assistant, an intelligent and humorous Diviner who showed great promise. "Sir!" Ensign Carey's honeyed voice came across the message spell in a panic, completely lacking her usual fineness and control. "We just received an urgent Message from Station Forty-One at Watson Bay! Just now, an engineer reported an attack by an unknown party who sabotaged the Shielding Stone." "What's the condition there now?" Gunther demanded with a measured voice brimming with suppressed emotion. Damaging a Shielding Station was a capital offence. What "Human" in their right mind would sabotage a vital infrastructure that shielded the city? Sydney wasn't the Ivory Coast or the Silk Road. Neither was Australia at war with their neighbours. "It's chaos, Sir! The explosion has caused a chain reaction along with the Watson-North head enclosure! We are registering a total failure of over a dozen stations!" "Get your division to link up with the Frontier Military. I need all the available operational data in the next thirty minutes. Sound the coastal alarms on the entire Eastern seaboard. All Combat Mages tier 3 and over are to report to battle stations. Start evacuations immediately for the affected areas, tell the councils to start moving their NoMs to shelters—and find me the Mage who called in, I need more information." "Yes, Sir!" Gunther willed another Glyph to flare into activation; it was from the intelligence division's Oracle station. "Sir! I am getting pings from all over the Tasman Sea! The Mermen are mounting a major incursion! I am counting a dozen Krakens— there's even a Leviathan!" Gunther cursed under his breath, wondering how the hell his world went to shit in a heartbeat. The acolytes in front of him were each receiving their Messages and showing evident panic. A complete collapse of the Shield Barrier had not occurred for at least two decades, but the stories remained. Ding! "Sir!" It was Carey, his assistant. "I've found the Mage who was overseeing Station Forty-One, he has requested to speak with you, shall I patch him through?" "Do it." There was the sound of a third voice joining the conversation. "This is Gunther Shultz, Paladin. Who am I speaking with?" The voice that came through was smooth and controlled, not at all panicked and worried as Gunther would have expected. "So you're Gunther Shultz huh?" "I am, who am I speaking with?" "Morye Song, Regular Joe Abjurer, second class Engineer, Watson Bay. I got a request for you, Mr Shultz." Moyre Song? Gunther felt some distant memory at the back of his mind pinging. Why was the name so familiar? Where had he heard it before? "I will grant you what I can, Mr Song, but first, you must let me know what the condition is over there, where are these assailants, or might I say, terrorists?" "Terrorists, huh? Close enough, I suppose. The Shielding Stone is busted, so I am afraid there's not much I can do about that. As for the baddies, well, they're dead." Gunther felt as though this Moyre Song was tooling with his intelligence, was the man a traitor who was trying to provide them with false information? That didn't make sense either. Presently, the Shield Barrier had fallen, the station was lost, what point was there in exposing himself? "How do you mean, Mr Song? You need to be more specific, can you tell me what happened exactly?" "Sure, but you need to grant me my request first." The man must feel confident that Gunther would comply. "Fine, what do you want?" "I need you to find the location of my two children, Percy Song and Gwen Song." Carey interjected. "Don't be absurd, Mr Song! You can't expect Lord Gunther to bother with finding your children in a crisis like this! We have Mermen trying to breach the mainland for God's sake!" "Ensign Carey. Do shut up." Gunther said. "Did you say… Gwen Song?" "Formerly of Forestville, she's currently attending Blackwattle Bay High School. If you can get your Divination boys to give me a location, I'll be more than happy to provide you with the low-down of what's happening here." "How dare you—" "Ensign—" Carey stopped speaking at once. "Go and check up on my orders. I need a sit-rep in the next few minutes. Also, go pull up a location on Percy Song, he's been filed already under Gwen Song's dossier, he should have his school's tracker with him." "Yes, Sir!" Gunther turned his attention to Gwen's erstwhile father. Erstwhile, because he'd believed Gwen had cut off all contact with her old man. "Gwen Song is currently in Rosebay," Gunther informed the man. "She is there with Magister Henry Kilroy, undergoing a test. As for your son, give me the information first, as our Diviners would require some time." "Fine," the voice that came through sounded relieved. "I assure you, Gwen is perfectly safe with the Lord Magister. Now, please inform me of the events that lead to the collapse of the Shield Barrier." "The assailants are mid-tier Mages, pretty well trained. I suspect they're someone's private army, feels like the kind that the Houses keep as their reserve militia. They had an insider or had the right glyph to access the door, who knows, but they got in unchallenged. They came in spells blazing, killing every Mage they met until they got to the main chamber. Now, they must have had some kind of magical device, because they managed to breach the Warding Glyphs in about ten minutes flat. I suppose that's what's causing the reaction too because a whole daisy-chain of resonating power just fed down the line." "Where are they now?" "They're dead," the voice said flatly. "How?" Gunther demanded. "Collective suicide," Moyre suggested cryptically. "Look, the point is, they had an inside man, someone had given them the codes for the Glyphs shielding the Stone, and now we're all in deep shit. I am going to find my kids because there is nothing else I can do here, the city's toast and you should be calling in the Towers from Melbourne and whatnot. So, where is my son?" "Carey?" "They've located a match for the boy. He is—" The spell died. It was blaring a moment ago, and then it was gone. "Carey? Mr Song?" Gunther incanted his Message spell again. Nothing. His brows furrowed. What in the world could disrupt a Message spell? Unless— From the looks of his acolytes, their calls had likewise cut off. The Paladin of Sydney felt a chill forming deep in his gut, running its way up through his spine with an unease he hadn't felt since the Coral Sea conflict. "NOW ENTERING QUARANTINE MODE." A female voice, synthetic in intonation, echoed through the Tower's internal communications systems. "What?!" "Quarantine?" "Against what?" "Lord Gunther?" "What was happening?" "What the fuck is going on?" Gunther let himself go. It was one surprise after another. Even Gunther felt the dire need to express his mounting frustration and anger. Quarantine mode? That was only possible when Magical Creatures or foreign Mages breached the Tower. Even if the Mermen were on a Leviathan, it would take two to three hours before they were even remotely close enough to enter the city. Gunther issued a command toward the Tower's autonomous Spirit systems, demanding that it explain the reason for its quarantine mode. "Lord Shultz, your command privileges have been revoked. Prepare to be ejected from the Tower in sixty seconds." "Shit!" Gunther could no longer maintain his cool in the face of mounting absurdity. "Does anyone have a working Message device?" The Acolytes shook their heads. How were his privileges revoked? He was the fucking Paladin of the Tower! It's guardian! Only its Master could revoke the access. The only manner in which the Right of Command could be usurped would be if— It can't be! He told himself. That was impossible! His Master was Deathless Henry for a reason! He tried to Message his teacher, but the Divi-Towers were down entirely. He tried to Message Alesia. Nothing. He tried to Message Gwen, and likewise, there was no sign that his Message spell had manifested at all. Someone had activated one of the Tower's most potent mechanisms - a Scry Jammer capable of nullifying Divination effects— and by that measure, all communication spells. Once active, the jamming retarded the part of Sydney's communication infrastructure. The problem was, the powerful warding shouldn't affect allies like Gunther, who had the right glyphs to nullify its effects. That his Message jammed could only mean one thing. It meant that Gunther was no longer an 'ally' of the Tower. The faux daylight lighting of the tower suddenly died. A red haze took over the Mage's surroundings, cast by maliciously glowing mana-cores that were now a dull, hostile red. "NON ASSOCIATES OF THE TOWER WILL BE EJECTED IN 3…" Gunther swore. "Everyone! Shield up! Everything you have!" "2… " "DO IT NOW! Don't question me if you want to live!" "1…" "USE FLIGHT! Feather Fall!" There was a flash of silvery Conjuration Mana. Gunther and a few hundred others found themselves outside the Tower, in mid-air, and falling. A host of scattered 'Feather Fall!" and "Fight!" resounded through the air. There were a few brief screams, then Gunther saw too late that at least a dozen or more young Mages, guards and clerks, had fallen from the great height, ending up on the cityscape below as bloody and broken stains. The Tower loomed before them, floating in mid-air, half a kilometre from the ground. The Tower was a floating fortress. That was the reason it was deemed so unassailable, so impenetrable. In its magnificence, his Master's abode was a brutalist fortress, resembling three bisecting rectangles stacked atop a floating island platform. Having been ejected from it by force, Gunther and the other Mages were pushed away from the central structure by the repulsion field. "Lord Gunther!" someone called. "What do we do?" "What the hell just happened?" "I head there are Mermen incoming?" "What about the shield wall?" "Fuck, I can't believe Timothy just fucking died!" "Sir! We need orders!" The descending Mage all called out to Gunther, but what could one man do without Message spells? They all believed that the infallible Lord Shultz had the answers, but Gunther knew he was just as confused and surprised as they. He wasn't a God, despite what the rumours suggested. He regarded those who were flying and falling around him. Suddenly, an epiphany came to him. These Mages— they were all from the Middle-Path and the Militant Factions! Where were the Greys? Magister Irene Ferris was the first to recover her senses. Immediately, she began commanding the Rosebay girls to take shelter in the cathedral. The old building was a bastion that had once served as a sanctuary. In theory, it should weather whatever was coming their way far better than if they stayed in the open. If need be, Irene could also teleport them away somewhere safe, such as the Tower itself, which was impervious to invasion. "Leave the Dryad, Go inside!" Ferris commanded Gwen and the girls, but the Blackwattle team refused to heed the Magister's command, choosing instead to stay with Sufina. When she commanded them again, and it was clear that Gwen was not leaving the field, the Diviner turned to orchestrate the evacuation instead. "Shit! My Message spell doesn't work!" someone muttered beside them. "Magister, all long-range communications are down!" Ferris tested her magic. "You're right, only line-of-sight communication still works. Someone's started the jammer." She glanced skyward, but couldn't see the Tower anywhere in sight. Where they infiltrated by foreign Mages? That was an absurd and impossible notion. She had to get back to the Tower as soon as possible, but she didn't want to abandon the children here. They were her life's work! The future of Rosebay, of Oceania! She had a responsibility to their parents, who had entrusted her with their lives. "Forget it! Get the kids to safety! Go through the Catacombs! Get to the Teleportation Chambers. Four to a group!" At once, the gathered Prefects and Mages mobilised, organising the young ones into orderly files that marched towards the cathedral and the shelter of it's thick, enchanted walls. "Gwen." She turned to Gwen seriously. "I don't know what's happened to Henry because the Tower is preventing me from using my Divination spells. That said— once the kids are safe, I am going to teleport myself and my staff into the Tower. Whatever happens, we need to take back control of the Tower and shut off that Message jammer. Are you coming with us? We could use your help. Your Void abilities are essential for taking down physical barriers." Gwen looked at Sufina, still fading fast, and nodded. "Meet me down in the teleportation room. It uses the same system your group used to arrive but located underground. Just follow my staff's directions." "I need to find Alesia," Gwen mouthed, her eyes still lingering on the Dryad. "Sufi's suffering." "Gwen, we need to go…" Yue said worriedly. The girl didn't want to leave Sufina either, but the situation was too dire for bravado. Elvia was silent, still unable to comprehend what she was seeing, especially after the physical trauma of being drained by Sufina earlier. Whetu was looking at the open sea with a grim face, reliving some distant memory which Gwen needn't guess, given Auckland's history. Debora appeared to have made up her mind. The girl pulled at Gwen's arm to try and make her budge. Looking at Debora's pleading eyes, however, Gwen felt suddenly struck by a recollection from the Outback. She reached behind her neck and plucked at her Almudj's scale, willing it to remove itself. "What are you doing?" Debora cried out sharply, stepping back with a look full of disbelief. "You're using THAT? Now of all times?" Gwen ignored her and instead cupped the now diminutive Sufina in her arms, parting the withered vines extending from the back of her neck. _Please let this work!_ Gwen prayed to whoever ruled over this world of magic and monsters, then placed the scale on the back of Sufina's neck. "Almudj, please help us!"

Morye Song was supposed to have the day off. Now, he lined up against the wall with his fellow engineers, prisoners awaiting their firing squad. It all began when his current girlfriend Yurin, one of two women he was seeing, suddenly demanded that he should meet her parents. The request meant that it was time to make a clean break, as things had progressed from harmless fun to quagmire. The problem was that Yurin was one of those women with almond-brown puppy eyes that turned liquid when pleading for something, and Morye was weak - indeed, very weak, to the pleading of the fairer sex. And so, Morye had traded his Wednesday shift for Thursday and had to spend an awkward night being glared at by Yurin's parents, who were utterly surprised when he confessed cleanly to having two children and an ex-wife. Yurin may not have cared, but no one wanted their little girl to be the second, or in Morye's case, the hundredth fiddle. Morye apologised and left the house. Yurin's father shook his fist, and Yurin cried and tugged on her father's sleeves. Morye took a punch to the jaw but was thankful for the clean break. He had no desire to entice her illusion of marriage. They had their fun, and that was that. Then it was Thursday, and all had been right with the world. Morning shift at a Shielding Station was a quiet and tedious job, especially at a remote headland like Watson Bay. Greeting the dozen or so guards he'd known for years, Morye made his way into the belly of the beast. Within, a deep shaft a dozen meters wide held a levitating ultra-high-density Crystal six meters in diameter and about eight from tip to tip. Here was the heart of the Shielding Station that kept the city safe. As an Abjurer, Morye's job was to monitor the hundreds of glyphs that surrounded the crystal, shaping its mana to create that unique resonance which made up the 'barrier'— an oscillating wavelength of mana that passed between stations. His place of employment, North Head and Watson Bay made up the city's two principal stations. Here, the barrier was so strong as to form a shimmering white wall above and below the ocean and reaching the seabed, so penetrative as to be tangibly felt seen in the Astral Plane. What it accomplished was the repulsion of all creatures with Cores, causing discomfort, distress and ultimately destruction. The larger the beast, the more damage the resonance achieved, the more mana was consumed. "Senior Engineer Song." his colleague had greeted him. "Engineer Wenner." Morye had replied. "How was your date?" "With Yurin?" "Yeah, the Korean one." "As expected, angry old man, upset mother. I was half expecting the old feller to duel me when I told them I had two kids." "Aren't you an old man too, old man?" Wenner laughed. "Oi, I am only forty! Besides, I am young at heart." "Ha! You're certainly not living any longer if you don't tier up your Spellcraft, hows your Abjuration?" "You know me. I rather spend the night in the soft, white arms of a woman rather than the cold, hard pages of a textbook." "Ah, come off it Morye. You've been here for almost what, fifteen years? Come on, Mate, we all know you can do better than Senior Engineer, I've seen your work." "Too lazy!" Morye lamented dramatically. "Get promoted? It's just more work. I'd rather finish my calibrations in an hour and work on my naps." Wenner shook his head in disbelief. "How're your kids these days?" Wenner changed the subject. "Percy's with his mother, so I'd dare say he's suffering for it. Gwen's doing pretty well. Did I tell you? She's awakened to Lightning. She's got more potential in life than me, that's for sure." "'Grats, Mate! I still remember that time you brought her to the Christmas Party, she must be a lovely young lady now." "Interested? Your son's still a bachelor?" Morye asked jovially. "Damn straight he is. Yeah-Nah, your girl's too good for him." "Aww, come on Ed, don't say that, Sam's good bloke." "He's a regular Abjurer, low Water-affinity. He'll be satisfied with a regular gal." "They're just kids, Ed, who knows? Gwen needs someone to show her how normal people behave. She's too much like her mother sometimes, full of shit and high sentence. It worries me sometimes." Edward Wenner shook his head again. He'd seen some lumen-recordings of Gwen that Morye had gotten from his filthy-rich brother-in-law, doing her Lightning thing. The girl was heads above Sam's wildest dreams. Having the two of them meet up would just destroy the boy's self-esteem. Morye meant well, but then again, he usually pitched above his class. He dated girls in their twenties; he dated girls from NoM ghettos. He dated women who were older too, not caring even if they were Senior Mages or Magus. Wenner was just about to say something when they heard the distinct sound of the middle barrier-gate opening. The hydraulically controlled portal consisted of Glyph panels made from transmuted steel. The seamless metal always made a suction sound as they opened, making a silent entry impossible. He checked his watch. "That's weird, George is not supposed to be here until 1400, reckon the guy cocked up his timetable? I'll go check." Morye shrugged. Come hell or high-water; he's got a break to catch and a snooze quota to fill. "ARRGH—" A muffled scream echoed. Then silence. Morye twisted his lips. Next came the sound of boots moving through the compound. Whoever had just accosted the guards was now making their way down. Morye had just settled himself into a comfortable tub-chair when the door to the break-room opened. "Hands up!" His feet on a stool and a cup of tea in hand, Morye regarded two Mages whose combat-robes shimmered with Mage Armour. They looked well provisioned, each of the Mages had a bandolier full of potions, a wand by their side, and minor Storage Rings on their fingers. "Hands on the back of your head! Move it!" the men commanded. Morye complied unquestioningly. Unauthorised entry into a Shield Station carried stiff penalties. These men, assuming they were here to loot or steal, appeared in their element. Why were they here? Morye wondered. If he had to hazard a guess, he would imagine that they were pawns in the factional infighting that constantly accosted the Tower. When elephants fight, the grass gets trampled. Maybe the men would do what they need to do, and then leave? Morye hoped for the best, or else there would be trouble. When he made his way to the antechamber, all the Engineers, Wenner included, lined up against a wall. The Director, McBride, was being questioned by a young man with what looked like mechanical, golem-like arms and legs. "The encryption key— give it to me!" The Machine-man was making threats. It was a laughable gesture, of course — engineers were bound by Geas to never real the Glyph keys. Morye felt puzzled. What happened to the guards on the first level? Why were these men capable of entering the Shielding Station unmolested, but had no access to the Glyph for the device itself? Typically, the Tower issued both at the same time. It could only mean that the individual who gave out the code for the Shielding Station didn't have access to the Glyph. Morye thought about that and didn't much fancy the answer at all. "STOP! It hurts! I can't tell you even if I wanted to," the Director begged. With exaggeration and wanton cruelty, the one-legged feller kicked and punched McBride, spittle flying this way and that. When the bloke tired of the sport, he straightened up and stretched out his golem-like limbs. "Let's do this the hard way then," the blond announced. The Mages behind the man were all dressed in grey-silver combat robes that were rather indistinct. There were six of them, all equally well equipped. Morye could see blood on their boots. The blood, Morye supposed, explained at least some hint of where the guards had gone. Were these a mercenary militia? Morye wondered, they looked the part but were too disciplined. A Shielding Station wasn't anything special, but it did have stores of crystals and other precious materials which would be more than enough to whet the appetite of a few greedy spells-for-hire. That left only one other possibility that these men were private soldiers born and bred in-house by some noble family or perhaps some Trans-national conglomeration corporation. To Morye's surprise, the blond Mage was not only a Conjurer but was also an Enchanter! Not just a regular Enchanter either, but the worst kind. His element was highly unusual as well. Was it Ash? No, Morye thought to himself. Ash was too rare. It was Dust. Jesus, Morye stifled a whistle. When was the last time he had seen a Dust Mage? At any rate, they were in trouble. Mages who trafficked in forbidden spells and dangerous elements were not in the business of leaving witnesses. While Morye was still pondering his options, the Station Master was screaming his lungs out. Blood drained from his wrists as the young man held a hand to his forehead. Motes of dust were moving in and out of the old Master's facial orifice, sending out spittles of blood and other bodily liquids through his nose, lips, and eyes. What a cruel little shit. Morye thought distastefully, wondering how he should deal with this dilemma without catalysing more drama for himself. Outright resistance was likely impossible for the moment, at least not with six guard dogs watching his every move. In a minute, the talkable ringleader seemed to be done, letting the exhausted old man drop to the floor in a ragged heap. "Tell me what the glyph code is," he asked carefully. To Morye's surprise, the Station Master began to recite the sequence like a mantra. The poor sod was on his second repetition when the Geas must have triggered, for he began to bleed violently from his facial orifices. Ten seconds later, the man was dead. "Chit!" The young man spat. He turned his attention to the rest of the engineers. "The rest of you, if you want to live, then go to your stations and do what I tell you." The remaining Abjurers regarded one another. They weren't heroes. But they knew the importance of a Shielding Station. "Fuck you!" A middle-aged woman shouted defiantly. "I am not letting any of you go near that Shield, you rapscallions!" "Bess! No!" "Shut up, Bess!" "She didn't mean it, your eminences! She's just a foolish old woman's all," Wenner pleaded. "She doesn't even have access to the work station." Beatrice was their Transmuter. She repaired the structure as it grew weathered by the brine from the east-northernly wind. She had a strong sense of justice but a limited grasp of common sense. Morye wondered if he would regret not helping the poor woman. After all, he'd been to her house, attended a few luncheons with the rest of the staff. The mother of two was happy with her lot. She must have been thinking of her sons, still safe behind the barrier when she made that call. "I am not fond of old women, but I am less fond of rudeness," the young man intoned. With a word, the Dust mage moved his invisible Dust-beast over to Beatrice. Then, he squeezed her like a lemon. The rest of the staff watched as Beatrice suffered, whimper and begging for death until all that remained of the once vibrant mother was a dried husk that crumbled onto the floor with a clattering of fossilised flesh and bones. "Disgusting," The young man scoffed, seemingly unsatisfied. "Any other volunteers?" The rest of the staff moved to their stations; watched by the cowled Mages in their silver-grey robes. With the Master's glyph code, the young man manipulated the central control system of the station. He gave orders expertly, as though he knew exactly how each Glyph switch within the system worked. _THUMMMMM—_ The central crystal grew dull. Morye watched as the Dust Mage approached, placing a hand upon the crystalline structure. There was a surge of violent mana, impressive both in volume and control. With a slight shimmer of space-time, the young man's Storage Ring consumed the stone. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. To the staff's surprise, the Dust Mage raised his other hand and summoned another stone similar in size to replace it. This one was etched with sigils and runes, covered from tip to tip with malevolent looking Glyph-scripts. With some alarm, Morye realised that this was the stone that was stolen from the Barrington Top station some three months ago. The others reacted too. They were all Abjurers here, and it instantly became evident what these men intended! What little naive hope of survival the staff had of surviving the encounter faded away. Now, it was a fight to preserve both their lives AND the lives of those in the city. "Stop them!" "Chase them out!" "Morye, help me!" Instantly, Shields of all kinds, stone, earth, water and pure mana erupted here and there, protecting their casters from the forces that sought to access their control consoles. The problem was that they were all Abjurers. The guards who were supposed to be protecting them were all dead. The battle, if there ever was one, was over the moment these Mages had gained access to the lower chambers. Morye too erected his shield. Unlike the others, his barrier was a bright, comically pink series of jagged stone. Outside, he heard the sound of spells clashing against his barrier, wondering how long his colleagues could keep up until help could arrive. If an Abjurer was to turtle up, they should be able to withstand attacks for some time. With the correct sequence of Absorb Elements, Elemental Warding, and proper management of mana recycling, a prolonged hold-out was possible. _Tink—TINK!_ _BOOM-CRACK!_ Chaos reigned as Morye carefully uttered the necessary meta-magics used to delay the spell he held in reserve. With each passing minute, however, the sound outside grew quieter, fainter and less pronounced. Then the battle ceased altogether, and Morye knew that it was soon his turn. A glyph bloomed in the dark of his rock-pink crystal shell. To this surprise, someone was Messaging him. "Hello?" Morye answered the spell. "Hey, it's me, Edgar, the one outside who just killed your friends." "…" "Listen, I am not going to kill you." "O, thank God." "I need you, Mr Song. For a mission that is even more important than this one, at least to me. Do you mind if we talk face to face?" "... What choice do I have?" Morye dispelled his Shielding, the pink-stones falling away until he revealed himself. Curiously, his fragments did not fade into motes of earthen mana. Instead, the manifested shell of his Abjuration shield scattered onto the floor, becoming crumbling pink-white particles that crunched underfoot. In front of Morye was a massacre. Shit, Wenner, Morye felt the corner of his eye twitch. Poor Sam. The others were dead too. Some were burnt alive, others crushed, a few drained until they were just husks. Morye had no benedictions to give. He was not a religious man. The Dust Mage, whose name was Edgar, stood not far from Morye. Behind him, his followers were busy rigging up the Shielding Stone. "You know; when I drained this little old feller here." Edgar swirled a few motes of dust around his good forefinger. "I caught an interesting piece of information in your work roster." "Go on." "You are the father of Gwen Song, no?" Morye raised a brow in surprise. "Why does that matter?" The Dust Mage— Edgar— suddenly took on a remarkably insane expression. His whole face grew contorted like that of a demonic mask, hideous with malevolence. The change was so drastic that for a moment, Morye questioned if the man had been taken over by some maleficent spirit. "Why does it matter?" Edgar ripped out a fistful of hair. "Why… why does it matter— the father says!" Edgar paced back and forth, utterly unable to control himself. "Why does it matter indeed!" Morye stared. It was an innocent question. He certainly did not expect the man to lose his mind. Perhaps he should hazard a conjecture? "Did Gwen… reject you at a cocktail party?" he asked dryly. That was the best postulation Morye could muster. He didn't think Gwen was the kind of girl to be hanging with psychopathic Mages, so the arsehole incarnate probably had spoken to her or something at some innocent social event— that he could believe. If anything, Gwen possessed her mother's talent for attracting attention, both good and bad. With her face and those legs, not many young men could resist an aloof princess. That and young cocks like Edgar likely had a low tolerance for disgrace. "A party?! A fucking party?" Edgar tore at his robes to reveal the pallid flesh beneath. "You're too skinny for Gwen's tastes." Morye sighed. Kids these days, so hot-headed. "Shut the fuck up!" Edgar disrobed violently to reveal his clockwork limbs. He pulled at his face until the flesh bled, revealing what appeared to be tessellated mithril plating. "Your whore of a daughter gave me this! She took my fucking arm and leg! She took my face!" Morye whistled impressively. "I take it you didn't listen when she told you - No?" he quipped jovially. "You know, when a lady says no, they probably just mean no. It's an art to read the context, but if you're not sure, just stop." Edgar looked like he wanted to rip out Morye's heart and eat it bloody and raw. "You think you're funny?" he demanded. "I am known to be jocular, yes," Morye's mouth twisted with mirth. "Did you know I wasn't supposed to be working today? Imagine that, you came all this way, and you could have missed me." "I think death is too easy for you." Edgar's words had such poison in them that they spat from his lips toward Morye, who looked at the stains on his work uniform with wordless revulsion. "I want you to know what I am going to do." Edgar seemed to calm himself and began to speak. "I am going to saw off your arms and legs. Then, I am going to cut off your tongue and your cock and balls. You're going to be just a fleshy stump, wishing for death. Yet, you're not going to die. We're going to heal your wounds, and make you suffer." "Young man." Morye breathed out coldly. "You ever thought about seeing a Mind Mage about that attitude of yours?" "You laugh now—" Edgar continued. "But when I find your daughter, you know what I am going to do? I am going to show her your stumpy, miserable form, and then she will share your fate. I will cut off her long white legs, sever her arms, and strap her into a harness, like so…" Morye watched as Edgar's expression changed from rage to lust, then to eye-rolling desire. "You liked that? Good," Edgar continued eagerly. "You know what's next? She's going to bear my children, carry my bloodline. Her dual Void and Lighting ability, all of her talents will belong to me. She's going to be nothing but a sow, a fertile little meat-machine for my litter of Void Mages. Your scions, my slaves for the next hundred generations. How do you like that?" "She's a Void Mage? You say?" Morye's surprise was wholly genuine. "Jesus Christ. Really?" "You didn't know?" Now, it was Edgar who stared, his voice incredible with disbelief. "Nope. We're not that close, you know, so I don't think I'll make a good hostage." Morye confessed. "I'll be the judge of that," Edgar collected himself. "Now let's see what's in that head of yours." Edgar placed a hand on Morye's forehead. Morye felt the invisible dust-conjuration moving behind him. Something with incredible force was now holding his wrists and ankles immobile, effectively paralysing his physical movements. "I am not looking for a son-in-law," Morye wryly declared. "Take your filthy mitts off my face, boy." "SHUT UP!" his assailant howled in turn. "Submit your memories to me! Give—" The Dust Mage's golem-limb fell limp. The rest of the Mages stopped to stare. There was a layer of white crystals now covering the joint, paralysing the clockwork. "Flesh to Salt," Morye incanted without any significant emotion. Without warning, the world turned white. "Arrrgh!" "My leg!" "No! No! No!" "I can't see!" "Master! Save us!" "It hurts! Aeeeeee!" With the utterance of the last syllable of the invocation, Morye's hidden Transmutation activated. It fed upon trails of salt, so carelessly scattered previously, minute and seemingly a part of the dusty decor of the sandstone interior. Mercilessly, these enlivened motes of salt now adhered to the assailants, boring into flesh and bone. At once, Edgar's lackeys grew encased in tombs of salt that covered every inch of their body, growing as salt fed, becoming larger and denser. As crippling agony paralysed the Mages, the salt began their terrible work. In a moment, all moisture within the tender bodies of Morye's assailants were quickly extracted. Besides them, Morye stood impassive as a statue, not even noticing the desiccation. It took half a minute before the spell ran its course, transforming all organic matter into pink-white rocksalt. "You know," Morye said softly to the young man now resting on his back. "In my culture, salt is used to drive away evil." Edgar stumbled backwards, a spell already upon his lips. His mind was a mess of fumbling ecstasy, the desire to escape defeating all rational thought. He had to buy time to activate his Teleport. The station was done for—there was nothing this man could do to stop it now. The only miscarriage of their plans was the loss of his men, nothing more. But why was Gwen's father a Salt Mage? Edgar's struggled to breathe, for such was the pain wracking his body. Why was a minimum tier 6 Transmuter Magus working as a low-level grunt in a Shield Station? But none of that mattered now. He had to live to tell the tale. For as long as he had lived, Edgar only believed in his abilities and his singular survival. His Mistress may question him later, but what could he have done against a Salt Abjurer-Transmuter? The man had resisted his Absorb Memory earlier. But how was that possible? Only specialist Military Mages from tier 1 cities trained to inoculated themselves against Mind Magic. But Sydney was a remote Frontier! Morye was supposed to be a low-tier barrier Mage! Quickly, using his agony as a distraction, Edgar completed one of his best spells. "Cloud Kill!" A mustard cloud sprang into existence surrounding the area where Morye stood. Yet, against all expectation, the acidic gas sizzled against Morye's salt-covered skin, ineffectively against the self-replenishing barrier. Edgar's eyes bulged against their sockets. He'd heard that salt was an extremely versatile element, supreme in defence and easy to manipulate, but this was absurd. What was the man's Affinity? "Dusty! Get him away from me!" Edgar commanded, his golem's leg skittering against the sandstone floor. With a roaring, his Familiar charged, bringing with it bits of salt, paper, and dust from the dead. "Banish Evil!" his opponent incanted casually. True to his word, like an evil spirit banished by a hand full of salt, Dusty ceased to be. "You fucking banished my familiar?" Edgar was learning many new things today, such as that even in the Frontier, a spell existed which could force one's familiar back into its Pocket Dimension. To summon his familiar again required time, vitality, and mana, all of which Edgar couldn't spare. Only Abjurers of the middle tiers possessed such spells, and only if they hailed from centres of magical study. "You got anything else to say?" Morye asked casually. "I am not a patient guy." "Plague of Insects!" Edgar desperately retaliated with another spell he had been proud of, summoning a dark swarm of stinging insects that would harass his victims and drain their vitality. "Banish Evil!" Morye incanted, throwing out a fistful of salt in a stylistic flourish. Again, the conjured creatures disappeared without a trace. Edgar now on the verge of perturbed hysteria, he'd never faced someone like Morye before in his entire twenty-five years. As a scion of a noble house, he had seldom face setbacks, save for his unfortunate encounter with Gwen. Now, at the hands of both father and daughter, he had tasted the bitterness of failure. Half-wild, Edgar produced a scroll and began to read its contents, heedless of Morye's presence. "Telep…" "Disintegrate!" Edgar's mind flared white-hot. Impossible! Impossible! He screamed. Disintegrate was tier 6! How could there be a Mage capable of casting such a spell in so short a time here in Sydney? A beam of white frost struck Edgars' golem's arm, turning it spontaneously into a pile of salt. Edgar dropped the Teleportation scroll mid-cast, the precious parchment falling into a crystalline pile as fresh and white as the fallen snow. "Disintegrate," Morye repeated the spell, leaving Edgar was left without a leg to stand on. He walked over towards the two-limbed man with an expression full of sympathy. "You know, I am curious to know who your parents are." "If I told you, you wouldn't dare lay a finger on me!" Edgar screamed at him. "My father will skin you alive! Your kin shall be made into living specimens as future warnings!" "Very scary," Morye intoned. "So, who's your dad?" Edgar remained silent, crawling on his remaining arm and leg. Morye watched with great interest as the kid produced yet another scroll from his ring. "Horrid… Wi…" "Disintegrate!" Morye had to admit. He didn't have too many of those spells left in him. The third Disintegrate had also missed— Morye had intended it to strike the boy's remaining hand, but now he took the kid's limb off at the shoulder. "ARRRRGH— B-bastard!" "Sorry, it's been a decade. I am out of practice." Edgar lay in a pile of his flesh-turned salt. Screaming the scream of the oppressed, the very same he had heard so many times before. Morye picked up a ring from the pile of salt, collecting his ill-gotten loot. "Oh, my!" he muttered, impressed. With a few incantations, he dispelled the tracking feature. "Your father must surely be a scary man to give a brat like you a Contingency Teleportation Ring. One of these would keep me in style for the next ten years, you know." Below, Edgar began to whimper. The salt was mixing into his wounds. Morye knew that the pain was exquisite, comparable to ten-thousand insects nipping away at one's shoulder stump. "Please… mercy…" Edgar begged, the boy's voice cracking. "My father..." "Where have I heard that before?" Morye stoically regarded his quarry. "You know, I am not usually a man partial to anger, but when you started yapping on about Gwen, it put me off." Morye raised a jackboot. The Engineer's outfits had steel-capped boots made to resist dense crystal drops. "What… what are you…" Morye stomped down, hard. A wail began to echo around the chamber, a soul-chilling vibrato that started as a bestial baritone and ultimately reached a castrato crescendo. "Yeah, see, when you talk about other people's children, you have to be respectful." Morye pattered his pockets and pulled out a packet of cheap cigarettes. "All that talk of rape, I mean, seriously, guy? Who even taught you to speak that way? Are your parents inbred?" "My— my— father will find you— he—" Edgar moaned wetly, squirming in a pool of blood and vomit. Besides the duo, the corrupted crystal shuddered. Its resonance had corrupted the whole system, sending the surrounding stones and the station itself into a spiral of catastrophe. "What are you guys trying to achieve, anyhow?" Morye lit up. "I am… a Ravenport! I can't die here— I am— fo— Father— Edgar, or whatever his name was, finally aid still. Morye breathed out, watching the smoke coil and writhe. Had any of the others sent off an SOS before their demise? Any fluctuations on the Shielding Grid should be automatically sent to the Tower. What Edgar and his men had done here should have been visible on the smallest augur engine. Beside Morye, the corrupted crystal hummed and groaned, beginning to reach critical mass. Morye pulled out the Teleportation scroll Edgar had so kindly left behind. "Thank Mao." Morye toked on his tobacco. "Imagine having to fly out of there." With a flash of Conjuration, Morye found himself beside the Queen Victoria Memorial. He wasn't sure how trustworthy the scroll was and had thus selected a place that was familiar and public. A few Mages glanced at him and quickly nodded their heads in apology before rushing away. Anyone using a tier 7 spell was above their station to question. The NoMs, however, gawked with the best of them. Far in the distance, there was a sound of something exploding on the ocean — first one, then a dozen. While the NoM crowds paused, then persisted in their menial labour, Morye could see a few of the Mages receiving Message spells, then immediately began to panic. With few more puffs, he finished off his cigarette. Them, he pulled out his message device and dialled in the classified Glyph for the Shield Station. "Collective suicide." Morye didn't feel like explaining any more than necessary, he was already smearing enough shit on himself to last a lifetime. "Look, the point is, they had an inside man, someone had given them the codes for the Glyphs shielding the stone, and now we're all in deep shit. I am going to find my kids because there is nothing else I can do here, the city's toast and we should be calling in the troop carriers. So, where is my son?" "Carey?" "They've located a match for the boy. He is—" The spell died. It was blaring a moment ago, and then it was gone. "Gunther?" Morye spoke into thin air. The spell was dead. No, the whole fucking network had died. "Fuck." Morye tried again. The Message spell was no longer functioning. He looked towards the sky, but there was no Tower visible. Whatever was occurring, the magical fortress was not in combat mode. "Rosebay huh…" Morye mouthed to himself. The city would fall; there would be no doubt about that. He had time, a few hours at least. Morye thought about Edgar's gloat. Gwen - a Void Mage. He rummaged for the cigarette packet and lit up another stick. Inhale. Exhale. He wasn't even supposed to be working today. Morye signed the sigh of fathers everywhere when their daughters were out past ten and had yet to call. Like two decades ago, Morye Song was at the crossroads.

The Saurian Conflict of '80 was the war that orphaned Alesia de Botton. As a result, she had no recollections of her provincial parents, the family farm, or of her life pre-Awakening. When she was a girl-child, she wondered if there were other surviving members of her bloodline. A few enquiries at the Tower's Divination section ensured her that there were none. The news was disappointing, but Alesia didn't mind, it was not the blood of the womb that she desired, but the convent of camaraderie. That— and Alesia had her Master, Henry Kilroy, who had guided Alesia's way and shielded her from trouble the day she became his Apprentice. She had also found a new sibling— Gunther, on whose broad shoulders she could lean on in times of turmoil. Lately, she had also found a younger sibling in Gwen, who was troubled and unsure, giving Alesia a sense of fulfilment in reciprocating the care that Master and Gunther had given her. And now, someone was threatening her family. Alesia was blind with fury when she rode out on wings of flaming air. She reached the cloister in a matter of moments, inspecting the building for signs of her Master. But there was nothing. No commotion, not a single indication of anything out of the ordinary. Mayhaps she could 'excavate' a bit of the building and flush the assailants out? Alesia's heart was a taut bow, cutting a violin's string, pulling against her bosom with acidic anxiety. She flew closer towards the building, testing the air with cinders. A few of her motes sizzled. As a veteran Combat Mage, she knew the signs all too well. An illusion! There was a glamour covering the damned building! Alesia did not possess any immediate means of dispelling the spell. She needed an Abjurer like Taj for that, but her assistant was too far from Rosebay to be of assistance. At any rate, only a specialist of near-equivalent tier could be of help. On the other hand, there were many ways one could force an illusion, such as directly attacking the caster or destroying a part of the illusion's foundation. Rosebay was a prestigious private school, full of nuns and schoolgirls, but Alesia had no time for hesitation. She closed her eyes and willed herself to disbelieve the illusion. In her mind's eyes, a Firestorm brewed, ready to be unleashed should she fail to pierce the veil. _WHOOMP!_ An ear-splitting crash rocked the cathedral's stained windows. _BOOM—_ _BO—BOOM—_ _BOOM—_ More far-away explosion bloomed over the horizon. A dozen others followed in quick succession, forming sonic booms that displaced the low hanging clouds above. Alesia turned her attention toward the source of the discordant clamour and felt her breath catching in her throat. The Shield Barrier! A semi-circle ring of rippling whitewater now churned where the ultramarine sky met the bean-green sea. Comprehension dawned, bringing with it a mouthful of bile. Whatever was happening to those Shield Stations meant that she would be needed to repel the incoming forces of Mermen. It was unthinkable that those malicious fisheyes would forgo an opportunity as fortuitous as this. At once, Alesia felt torn in twain. One half of her compelled to stay for her Master, the other half recognising the calamity to come. Such anxiety assailed her that her skin crawled as though assaulted by a Mermen Bloodworm. A dozen Message spells bloomed beside her ears. Alesia allowed a few to connect. "Alesia! It's Taj! The fucking Shield Station at Watson Bay just blew!" "Yeah, I can see that." "You can? Where are you now?" "I am with Gwen and Paul at Rosebay." "Thank God! Get down here! We're going to need you! If this is anything like the Coral Sea; we're going to get swarmed!" "Alesia!" Paul's Message interjected with a hollow echo, indicating that he was indoors. "I am with Magister Ferris, I can teleport us closer towards the Shield Station, or we can try to access the Tower through the Magister's Glyphs, what's your situation? You need to get down to the coastal fortifications!" Alesia hovered, the words caught in her throat. "Alesia!" "Alesia! We need you to..." "Alesia, where are—" Her companion's urging grated her ears. Alesia wanted to throw a Fireball into the message spell. No shit she needed to get down to the coastal batteries! She couldn't go, however. How could she leave when her Master was still in danger? For reasons both public and personal, she had to make sure Henry was alright. The Tower cannot be without its Master. Besides, Gunther should be taking care of the city. "Shut up, Taj! I can't fucking think!" Alesia snapped, screeching out her frustration. This fucking illusion! Her Abjurer was taken aback by the vitriol in her voice. "Allie, what's happening on your end?" he inquired worryingly. Alesia sighed. It was far too hard to explain the comings and goings when she had no idea what was happening. Chiding herself, she took a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves, then composed herself. "Something's happened to Lord Kilroy. He was attacked... I can't leave until I know that he is safe." "Master Kilroy is—" Taj too, composed himself. "Will the Tower come to our aid?" He asked after a moment. Without the floating battle station pounding down the Leviathan and the Krakens, there was little hope that the military and the citizens' militia could hold the coastal line. "I can't say," Alesia intoned with a voice burdened with frustration. "I'll join you as soon as we can." "Alright, I'll try and contact the other Magisters. Good luck." "Find the Militia instead. There's just Walken and Ferris left in Sydney, and Ferris is here in Rosebay, trying to evacuate the kids. Get the militia to convince Walken to send the Tower over to the East Coast. Tell him that our Master will give his consent. Ferris should consent. If it's two against three, there's nothing Walken can do to stall…" "..." No reply came. Alesia stopped speaking. The last two orders she had dictated no longer had that resonating feeling of being converted into mana signals. "Taj?" There was silence, not the quiet that indicated an absence of sound, but the static tinnitus of a Message spell that was feeding back upon itself. Alesia shook her device and activated it again. The spell fired, but nothing happened. She felt a sliver of ice moving its way up her spine. How could Message spells be disabled? That was impossible. The only way it could happen was to have someone activate the Tower's Divination Nullifier. That was itself beyond the boundaries of possibility, for the only her Master had the command glyph. There were several conditions required for the key's ownership to change. Firstly, the city must be under siege, and secondly, the Master or the Tower must expire. Alesia's breathing grew laboured. Her eyes turned toward the buildings below. "Flames, heed my call..." She began to summon an Empowered Firestorm, a tier 7 spell of mass destruction. Alesia was confident that the caracal spirit would take care of innocents caught in the blast, and if not, then she was willing to take all responsibility. The architecture should be able to withstand the flames, but as for any iconography or texts, they would have to be sacrificed for the greater good. Gwen watched the shimmering scale on Sufina's neck. Her mythical object adhered without incident. Immediately, she could feel the transfusion of vitality. An inch from her face, the shrivelled body of the Dryad shuddered as a drowned woman taking a renewed breath. Sufina moved her limbs, making a sound of crackling bark as she lifted her head and opened her amber-clear eyes, now filled with darkness. "Elizabeth!" Sufina cried out, her voice the cracking of hollowed trees. "She's alive!" Gwen and the girls glanced toward one another with eyes that were full of alarm and disbelief. Debora, especially, grew white as a sheet. "We have to help him!" Yue cried out, heedless of Sufina's explosive revelation. Elvia nodded beside her. "No! We have to get away, as far as we can!" Debora ventilated, her chest rising and falling irregularly. "What the fuck are you on about!" Yue snapped at their ungrateful companion with incredulous loathing. "That's the Master of the Tower! My Grand Master! If something happens to him, we're all fucked!" "Gwen, you tell them!" Debora whimpered. "We can't stand up to Elizabeth! We're just students!" "Who is Elizabeth?" Whetu was confused by the polemic reactions. "Whoa—!" A flash of Conjuration mana surrounded Sufina, then the Dryad disappeared, either summoned to Henry's location or displaced back into her pocket dimension. Either way, it seems that the scale had done something, and Henry was once again in control of his Spirit. Gwen felt her chest tighten. She had to find her Master as soon as possible while also ensuring her friends were safe. "She's a Void Mage like me," Gwen explained. "She's got an old grudge against Henry. She is a Combat Mage who is both insane and dangerous." "Jeezus." Whetu swallowed. Gwen was already impressive enough; this Elizabeth sounded like a calamity. "BUT— Debora's right." Gwen felt her heart sinking and an acid-reflux rise in her throat. "You all need to go!" Yue and Elvia regarded Gwen's affirmation of Debora's cowardice with surprise. "This is the same Elizabeth you told us over Christmas?" "The very same, there's nothing you can do," Gwen replied without hesitation. "Go find Magister Irene, go find Paul, they should be setting up Teleportation Circles in the catacombs. You all need to get out of here." Gwen tried to Message Alesia again, but her Message Device was showing up blank. The girls, including Whetu, began to move towards the cathedral where hundreds of schoolgirls were making headway. Yue stopped when they reached the Cathedral gates, preventing Gwen from separating from the party. "And where do you think you're going?" she demanded. "Yue, please just go. I need to find Magister Kilroy." Gwen knew they'd come to this junction. Her voice was begging for an outcome that she knew was unlikely. Yue's face took on a grimace. "If you want us to remain as friends - you'd shut up and let me follow." "I am coming too!" Elvia was likewise putting up her best-unflustered face, even though her pale complexion suggested otherwise. Her small, white expression looked entirely determined, her warm blue eyes doubtlessly committed. "Me too." Whetu shrugged, grinning. "How can I call myself a warrior otherwise?" There were a few seconds of hesitation, but Debora too stood in line with the others. "Anything for you." "Guys…" It was a moving scene, of course, but they had little time for sentimentality right now. Gwen knew that every second counted and she wasn't about to waste it giving a speech. "Thanks," she replied stoically; there was nothing more that needed to be said, then pushed on the door. BA-BLAM! Their moment of courage was short-lived. There was a sudden groaning as an unimaginable force smashed against the double doors, then in the next few moments, the wooden barrier erupted inward a clang and threw them to the floor. Were it not for Whetu's instantaneous shielding, Gwen and the girls would have been blown away. Gwen pushed away from the debris, the clearing flames and smoke revealed the outline of Henry, Sufina and Alesia squaring off against the alien figure of a woman with the palest skin Gwen had ever seen. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. The unadulterated force of primal nature coursed like a violent flash flood through Henry's body, dispelling the illusory Enchantment that had crippled his mind. His energy was of such purity that it instantly bloated the lamprey-leech like creatures attached to his body, forcing them to erupt into shadow and ichor. "Sufina!" The Magister's follow-up was instant. His Dryad manifested beside him with a flash of silver. Instantaneously, drawing upon the mana of her secret island Grot, the Dryad expanded into a mass of lashing tendrils and cruel barbs that flared out in all directions, both shielding Henry and lashing Elizabeth. The sudden change had caught the Void sorceress unaware; a dozen barbs lacerated her flawless skin before an oily void shield consumed the tendrils digging into her flesh. Though Henry's summons lacked the draining abilities of the Void, the high-tier Dryad possessed a parasitic ability that was no less terrifying than lampreys. But the battle between the ex-lovers did not immediately erupt. There was a history between them that could not be resolved with mere violence. Henry regarded the small woman before him, her skin flawless and as white as fresh snow; her lips a dash of red paint across two pressed slices of vibrant cherry. "Why?" He ached to know the truth. If the woman wanted revenge, she could have come after him anytime. She knew Henry well enough to understand that he was more than willing to face her alone if she had so desired. "Does it matter?" Elizabeth replied in that voice of hers that was alluring and nostalgic at once. "The Shield Wall is down. The Mermen are coming. Your city is doomed." To his opponent's surprise, Henry appeared neither angry nor upset. "Lizzie, there is nothing to be afraid of, not anymore," Henry replied earnestly. "I am the Master of the Tower now. I can protect you. This place, Sydney, it's far from London." Elizabeth's face took on an expression of pure mockery. "You're such a Romantic, Henry. I loved that about you." "You don't have to run anymore, Lizzy, I can help." His breath caught when Elizabeth cocked her head demurely and fluttered her baby-blue eye. She used to do that, in their youth. He recalled it as clearly as yesterday. "Vortex!" His wife's answer manifested as a growing pinpoint of darkness that swallowed all light, expanding between them. "Force Cage!" Henry's counterspell formed a glowing six-point cage around the darkness, completely isolating the vortex's power to engulf the space it encompassed. His wife glared at Henry coldly. "Lizzy, listen to me. Don't do this." "It's too late, Henry. It was too late the moment I awoke to the Void element, and you didn't stop me. I was naive like you once, but no more. I know what my Path is now, and you are an obstacle that I must cross to gain my place in the world." "No, your path is destruction," Henry retorted bitterly, his voice desperate but growing stronger, his old skin becoming supple with vital energy. Beside him, Sufina had assumed her full-sized shambling form, a mass of cruel tendrils that tasted the air and menaced Elizabeth hungrily. "And after Sydney? What place can you go?" "A place you could not even begin to understand." Elizabeth smiled secretly. "I would be happier if you opted to join me instead, Henry. Abandon your Tower. Abandon these useless NoMs and your mewing, bleeding-heart Mages. What do you say?" "You know that's not possible." Henry was beginning to gain an inkling of what Elizabeth was suggesting, and the very thought of it was utterly insane. "Lizzy, you're mad!" "From my perspective, it is you and your kind who are deranged and naive," Elizabeth retorted. "How long do you think you can hold back the tide? History waits for no one, not even the mighty Henry Kilroy." Henry's breathing slowed. It was then that he noticed that neither was his Message spells going out nor were new ones coming in. The long-range Message system was down, and it could only mean one thing. "What have you done?!" Henry glared at his wife. "Your ally, Magister Walken, is giving us a helping hand." Elizabeth giggled mockingly. "While you were out, he has helped himself to your little housing project." "Lizzy!" Henry felt the anger in him rise with the bile in his throat. It was right that she harkened after him, it was okay that she wanted satisfaction, but only from him! The Tower, the city, all those innocents! Elizabeth would stop at nothing! He knew now— Mark had said as much. He felt such disappointment that not even a sliver of the woman he loved remained. For so long, Henry had imagined that his wife was merely afraid, paranoid, incapable of controlling her desires, yet here was living proof that she had something far more significant in mind. What Henry'd thought was self-preservation was merely the precursor to something far more malignant. "Morden's Blade." Elizabeth's invocations manifested far quicker than he recalled, a testament to the number of innocents she had Consumed. Besides her, an obsidian blade of void-matter formed in mid-air, hovering like a grim sentinel. "Force of Nature!" With a grand gesture from Henry, Sufina became a tidal wave of tendrils that covered the floors and walls of the enclosed space of the small shrine. "Firestorm!" came the distant sound of a manifesting spell from outside the shrine. B-BLAM! Orange flames broke through into the intimate space of the shrine, turning the doors into flaming splinters. "Master! Are you alright?" Alesia's flaming form appeared just outside, both hands radiant with marigold mana channelled from the Plane of Fire. "So this is how it's going to be, husband?" Elizabeth demanded bitterly, as though she was in the midst of a family feud. "You going to gang up on me with another woman?" It was the first time Alesia had seen Elizabeth, whom she had only heard from the stories. "Allie. Focus!" Henry barked. "She's dangerous!" "How dare you harm the Master!" Alesia recovered within the blink of an eye. "I am going to turn you into cinders, you ungrateful bitch!" Elizabeth's face was full of loathing. "Is this the sort of personage you now socialise with, Henry?" Henry no longer responded to Elizabeth's taunts. Sensing a spell welling up within his Apprentice, he matched Alesia's cadence so that they could double-strike Elizabeth by sandwiching her between them. "Sufina!" "Disintegrate!" "Umbra EGG!" A hundred tendrils lashed out toward Elizabeth as a Void shield surrounded her. Likewise, the red beam of destructive energy launched from Alesia was consumed by that black mass without penetrating a single inch of its uncertain thickness. Below Elizabeth, a mass of leech-like worms fell from her sphere of darkness and made for Henry and Alesia, their lamprey's mouths opening to discharge their claw-tipped tongues. "I don't believe it!" Henry marvelled, unable to forgo his unbidden academic curiosity. "She's got a Void-element Spirit!" "Shit!" Alesia swore. "Fire Ball!" The erupting flame took out a good chunk of the creatures, but the dripping mass continued to grow in strength. Sufina's tendrils shot out and pierced the things, but many of them instead latched onto her vines, draining her vitality and causing her to scream maddeningly. Elizabeth had come prepared - Henry's rare and distinct element faired terribly against his wife's. "Master! I'll take care of this! You need to retreat at once and go back to the Tower! The Mermen are coming! "Alesia warned Henry desperately. "You can't handle her!" Henry's voice was coarse. The mass of leech-creatures was pouring out the door now, far too numerous for the two of them to handle. If the void-spawn were to make it to the other Mages, or the students, then the damage would be incalculable. Even how, Henry felt the leeches draining his mana. He could also sense the source of life that had awoken Sufina weakening, meaning that he would soon be back to his old decrepit self. Maintaining their barrage, the two of them levitated just above the ground, out of reach of the maggot-like swarm of darkness that was menacing them. "She's feeding off Sufina," Henry cursed. "Alesia, give me a wide-range persistent AOE. Fill the quad with fire!" Alesia nodded affirmatively and began a long chant. A silver of dark energy shot from the black sphere; the void blade pierced through the air with a shrieking, bloodthirsty madness. Alesia blocked the first pass, but the returning strike easily penetrated her flame shield. Were it not for a well-timed tendril from Sufina; the void blade would have eviscerated her. Thankfully, the experienced Combat Mage did not let a little near-death experience disrupt her spell. "Maximised Flame Burst!" A torrent of flame descended from the sky, where an open portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire fed a blazing tornado into the quad, scorching the stones and setting fire to everything that was remotely flammable. The grass instantly wilted, the fountain's waters evaporating with such rapid expansion that the stonework exploded. The hot air generated from the spell was such that it blew into the windows and the doors, splintering the wood and setting fire to the remains. Within this raging inferno, only Henry and Alesia remained unscathed. Alesia grated her teeth as she channelled her mana, pouring everything she had to sustain the spell and maintain its destructive energy. Already the sandstone's surface was suffusing, sheets of materials falling away as the silica of its exterior began to melt and liquify. Within, the dark creatures that had attached to Sufina were obliterated in an instant, eradicated by the cleansing flames from the Plane of Fire. After the initial impact, the radius of the spell began to decrease. "Alesia! Master!" A familiar cry called out from the obliterated double-gate. Alesia and Henry turned to see Gwen, Yue, and the rest of the team at the stone pillars. "You little fools! Run!" Henry shouted at his youngest Apprentice. As if sensing Henry's alarm, a black blade erupted from the dark oily film of Elizabeth's shield, this time flying toward the students. "Shield!" Whetu instantly reacted by creating a multi-layered Punamu shield. Just as he had experienced with Gwen's bolts, the blade's cutting edge was vorpal but had little penetrative power against his latticed structured green stone. It bit through the first few layers with ease, but perhaps because it had not expected an Abjurer used to Void Magic, the blade stopped an inch from Whetu's nose. "Lightning Tentacles!" Gwen incanted her spell expertly, just as Henry had taught her. A mass of blue-white tentacle appeared from thin air and began to lash Elizabeth's Void Shield mercilessly, ripping away chunks of dark, shell-like void matter. "Earth Spike!" Debora joined in. "Flame Storm!" Yue cast her highest-tier spell, the tier 4 variant of her Master's opus. "Bless!" Elvia threw in her lot, doing what little she could, every bit of damage counted in a mass-melee. "Aid!" Alesia kept her spell's epicentre concentrated on Elizabeth. The whole building was now heating up, cracking and groaning ominously. Henry turned his attention back towards Elizabeth. His students were too naive. Against a caster of Elizabeth's level, there was little a gang of low-level Mages could do. "See you on the other side, hubby," Elizabeth's voice teased the Mages. There was a burst of darkness as she activated a volatile Teleport. Henry erected a sphere of tendrils to shield his students. "Sufina! Find her!" Sufina's tendrils reacted far faster than their mortal eyes, seeking out a space above them in the open air. "Dark Rain!" Elizabeth's departure wasn't without a parting gift. A spray of ink cascaded down upon toward the quadrangle, consuming stone and flames with equal hunger. "Whetu!" Gwen shouted. The main building shielded the students, but Alesia and Henry remained in the open. "On it!" A semi-circle of Punamu formed over Alesia and Henry's head, rapidly depleted by the ink-like spray of dark light from Elizabeth's hands. It wasn't enough to shield the pair but gave them enough time to activate Dimension Door and escape. Sufina's tendrils formed a net that prevented the rest of the dark energy from reaching the group. Henry cautiously raised his head and saw Elizabeth now floating in mid-air, a wisp of darkness about her white body. How was the woman capable of activating so much void energy at once! Why wasn't she suffering from the lingering effects of life-drain? He watched her lips move, incanting her next spell. Gwen and the girls were still flinging hapless spells at their assailant. "O HELL!" He realised what Elizabeth was about to cast. It wasn't a spell he'd expected, as his wife had been both defending and attacking them with high-tier spells for the last few exchanges. In his recollection, Elizabeth should have been long-drained of vitality by now. With a swift mental command, Henry lashed out with Sufina's tendrils and pulled his students towards him. "MAXIMISED Force Cage!" The offensively imprisonment spell had another use other than it's intended design. When used defensively, it was capable of negating most AOE spell effects. Forming a rectangular glyph with his hands, Henry encased the lot of them in his Force Cage, just as Elizabeth's coup de grâce descended. Sufina leapt back into her pocket dimension. In the chaos of magical energies, Gwen saw the scale fall to the ground half-buried in the rubble. "Blade Barrier!" Dark arcs consisting of bible-black blades materialised from thin air and whipped into the Force Cage with the force of a thresher-engine, leaving inky streaks of darkness across its invisible panes. "Master! Are you alright?" Gwen and Alesia both turned to Henry, whose face was ashen and pale. Henry knew that the stored energy within Gwen's scale was at its limit. The vitality taken from it to refuel Sufina and empower him in his moment of weakness proved to be too much even for the vital energy stored within the scale of a mythic-class magical creature. Henry watched the Blade Barrier and its void-like energies whipping away at his Force Cage. There was little they could do until the spell was over. Thankfully, there was little Elizabeth could do against them as well. A signature variant, his cage was far too robust to be destroyed by Disintegrate, and it was immune entirely to Dispel Magic. "Gwen, Alesia, thank you for your assistance." He leaned his battered body upon the shoulders of the two girls. When Henry spoke again, he was breathless with fatigue. "We must make haste to the Tower. It is vital for the defence of the city. Where is Gunther?" "He should be in the Tower…" Alesia replied. "I don't know why, but the Divination Jammer is cutting all our long-range communication." "Walken." Henry took a second to recompose himself, his eyes forming two thin slits. "I don't know what he's up to, but he must in control of the Tower's operative systems." "Can we teleport in?" Alesia inquired worriedly. Henry nodded. Around them, the Blade Barrier was coming down. When the mayhem of dark blades finally ran its' course, they were in a courtyard with a battered cloister that was barely held together by century-old architectural ingenuity. The garden was either utterly wilted or otherwise violently tossed and uprooted. Deep gouges were cut into the stoneworks, as though a mining engine had rampaged through the ancient stoneworks. "Detect Magic. Detect Evil." Gwen felt no desire to hide her abilities at a time like this. His Apprentice was the only Diviner here, and she could either keep pretending to be clueless or be of actual use. "I think we're clear, Master." She observed. "I don't feel any void manifestations near us." The others turned to face Gwen with eyes that were full of question. "Not now, guys." Gwen felt the shimmering panes of force fade around them. She knelt, moving her slender fingers across the pavement, brushing aside the crushed and broken rubble until she found the scale. Thankfully, it was still intact. It's shimmering hue, however, was no more. "Master, shall we go?" Henry nodded weakly, no longer possessing the energy to speak. "We'll go to the cathedral and find Ferris. She can use her native Divination abilities to empower the portal to the Tower." Alesia quipped. "Won't that put us in more danger?" Gwen enquired a little troublingly. "Doesn't this Walken have control of the Tower right now?" "Master?" Alesia turned to Henry. Their Master shook his head. "Not while I am alive. Walken may have gotten into the nucleus, but all the auxiliary Glyphs remain slaved to myself and all the surviving Magisters." As the girls lacked the strength, Whetu volunteered his back, and the girls helped Henry onto the gigantic young man's shoulders. "I'll be sure to thank your Master properly— if we survive this," Henry remarked to the Maori youth. "Sweet ass, Magister, no worries," Whetu quipped. "I at your service." "Can we trust Ferris, Master?" Alesia questioned uncomfortably. "She'll make the right choices, don't you worry," Henry assured her. "I don't know what Walken is up to, but it is our goal to disable him and limit his access. Not to mention we'll need Ferris even to access the Tower at this point." "Grand Master, what can we do to help?" Yue made a sharp salute. "We'll follow you anywhere, sir, if it means saving the city." Henry surveyed the students before him. They would meet up with Ferris and her team, half a dozen Maguses, a dozen Senior Mages, and a capable team of young mages like Gwen. Would it be enough to take down Walken from inside the Tower? Henry considered their options. If they played their cards right, they could probably just make it. _BWAAAAH— BAWAAAAH—_ Right as the Magister of Sydney was about to say something to raise the student's spirits— an alarm cut across the school grounds. A long siren split across the school's courtyard. "Fuck!" Alesia gnashed her teeth. "We got incoming!" "Master?" Gwen turned to the old Magister, but Henry was barely holding onto consciousness. "Defend the school children… find Ferris…" he spoke softly, his breath enfeebled and his voice a whisper. "She won't help… if you don't defend the children…" Gwen and the gathered crew turned to face the coast. There was a crested wave, a dozen meters in height, rapidly approaching from the sea. Gwen had no idea what it was; nor did any of the girls. Whetu had seen it before though, and Alesia knew the sight all too well. "Shit!" she cursed. "I should have known that stupid bitch wouldn't have just retreated." "We up shit creek without a paddle, hey?" Whetu noted expertly. "What is that thing?" The others asked, the incredible sight of a six-storey wave in locomotion assaulting their logic. They all had an inkling, but to think they would see such a thing in the protective confines of the city itself was something none of them could have imagined. "That—" Alesia waved her hand across the ground. An assortment of battle garbs, bandoleers of potions, and single-use scrolls littered the floor. "— is a Siege Breaker Kraken, and from the looks of it, it knows where it's headed." "Headed here?" Elvia asked an obvious question. There was no need for an answer.

"Team 7 and Team 9, set up a defensive line at Darling Point! Team 12 and 18, join up with the Militia at Point Piper. Team 4, rest up while Team 11 takes up Flight and defence buffs." Gunther barked out orders to the remaining Tower Mages even the rising tsunami bore down upon the city. The Evacuation Siren had gone out almost an hour ago, but even so, the city was a hot mess thanks to the jamming of long-range communications. Likewise, without the Tower's mass Teleportation Circles, the movement of Mages throughout the city stalled to a standstill. "Team 8, pull back!" A swell of frustration trampled Gunther's patience. Even with a hundred or so Tower Mages, there was no way for the city to be defended without the fortress hovering above, retrieving casualties and sending out fresh combatants. All Gunther could do was try to slow the advance of the Mermen, hoping that someone else— his Master, Magister Ferris, or perhaps Alesia, managed to access the magical fortress and wrestle back its controls. Already, the tide receded, giving the impression of a man drawing back for a king-punch. The magically generated tsunami was not as powerful as one created by natural forces, but it would suffice in sinking the city. The Paladin observed the city from his vantage point. The Leviathan was likely going to make landfall near Elizabeth Bay, using its momentum to penetrate into the heart of the business district. Once the crustacean-cum-whale made landfall, its shells would erupt to reveal landing pods filled with malicious Mermen, their tridents ready to taste human flesh. One on one, an NoM had no chance against a Mermen warrior, not even the fish-headed Scum Suckers. A low tier Evoker, however, could take a dozen Mermen, assuming the Mage was sufficiently shielded and protected by his allies. In Sydney, the Militia drew Mages from all walks of life. In Mage affluent areas like Double Bay or Elizabeth Bay, there were everything from retired Maguses to entire families of mid-tier Mages. Conversely, should the Mermen penetrate into NoM affluent areas like Surry Hills or Redfern, they would have little to no contest in 'harvesting' the spoils of war. Decades ago, during the Coral Sea Conflict, Gunther had questioned a captured Mermen Prince when they raided human settlements. The answers he had received from the bulb-headed Cephalopod was surprisingly mundane. Humans encroached on the Mermen's waters. Humans ate their young and hunted them. Humans desecrated the holy sea. In short, the Mermen fought a Holy War. Later, when Gunther took on the position of Paladin, he was informed that the Mermen were not one clan, but hundreds of ocean-dwelling races. For the "Mermen" Kings, warring on humans was a way to unite the races, much in the same manner that Dark Age humanity once avoided total War in Europe by organising Crusades against the demi-humans of the Middle East. Gunther watched his teams spread throughout the harbour, taking up positions and stringing together rag-tag bands of militia-men and women emerging from the offices and the seaside suburbs. These areas were supposed to be the safest zones in Sydney, protected by the largest, most robust Shielding Stations. Presently, however, they were the first line of defence. A few kilometres out, the wave was now breaking, revealing the skyscraper spines of the Leviathan. From afar, the creature's carapace glinted magnificently in the afternoon sun, vibrant with its coral hills and crevasses. The entire Leviathan, when fully unearthed, stretched out about four football fields. From head to tail, the pea-brained relative of the dragon-whale measured close to a kilometre. Gunther couldn't even begin to imagine how such a creature could be fed and kept in captivity, and yet the Mermen had tamed them. Each time a significant offensive was mounted upon a human city, one of these creatures would be dredged from the deep sea and brought to bear; powering through humanity's defences by dumb, brute force. Once out of the water, the creature would inevitably die from its crushing weight, but before its violent demise, it would wreak havoc upon the defender's city. Gunther clicked his tongue distastefully and began to focus his mind. The Radiant Magus produced a diamond as large as a quail's egg in one hand, then filled it with Radiant mana. Beneath his feet, layered glyphs appeared, forming into an elaborate Mandala. Closing his eyes and switching to this third-senses, Gunther concentrated his will until he could feel every facet of the masterful diamond within his cognisance. "Focusing Array!" The Paladin of Sydney released the first layer of the Mandala. The spell formed into a convex illusion that bent his powerful Radiant energy into a single point. A second layer of the Illusion allowed for the adjustment of his Radiant Strike's range, while a further third layer served to magnify its radius. Within a second, Gunther's Ritual Magic consumed the priceless Asscher diamond— an offering to the Radiant beings that made their home in the Quasi-elemental Plane of Fire and Positive Energy. Grunting, Gunther shook the dust from his hands, taking a deep breath to dispell the spell-fatigue. As soon as the Leviathan struck the shallows, its head would rear— and that was the window he needed. The low, grey clouds suddenly parted. A retina-searing beam of unadulterated Radiance, bright as a second sun and just as hot, shot from the heavens. It caught the Leviathan just as its armoured head emerged from the wave, a neckless, triangular thing with a dozen eyes the size of sedans, five-storeys in height, protruding from its bulbous, blubbery body. Upon initial impact, there was a roaring hiss, as though the surface of the Leviathan's carapace had become a sizzling hot plate, sending chunks of coral and shellfish to fall from its ancient surface. TSSS—! A split-second later, the beam adjusted itself, becoming a thin line that concentrated the all-consuming flame of the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Radiance ten-fold. In the section of the Leviathan, there came a sickening crunch. It was the sound of carapace popping and erupting as the superheated flesh violently erupted, rebelling against the body it was supposed to protect. Some distance above, small as a speck, Gunther panted. His Radiant Beam persisted for a few more moments, then dimmed and died. The sea that had been held back was now sloshing back into the bay. The radiant blast from the heavens had pierced the head of the Leviathan, utterly decimating its impenetrable armour. Where Gunther's strategic array had struck, the Leviathan's neck was a bubbling mess of wet flesh and steaming seawater. The gaping cranial wound where the beam had struck sizzled, oozing enough slime to fill a lake. The Mythic's enormous body, which had been so vital a moment prior, was now slack and inanimate. On its sides, the Leviathan's claw-flippers no longer propelled itself forward. Having lost the driving force of its mountainous musculature, only its momentum compelled it to crash ahead, dredging the seafloor as it shovelled on. Thankfully, the incline was now too steep to keep pushing its body; the thing was grinding to a ponderous halt, betrayed by the weight of its own body. A Kraken had latched onto the sea cliffs overlooking Rosebay and was unloading its cargo of Mermen. The tentacles of the damned thing were enormous, flinging pods of shellfish that crashed into the Cathedral and its surroundings, tumbling and skittering into hapless Mages who were too slow to flee from their path. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Unfortunately for the defenders, they did not possess Magi-tech Engines or War Golems capable of repelling such barbaric tactics. The six-storey tall squid was assaulting the Cathedral-fortress in the most primal manner possible— with uncalculated brute force. Having attached itself to the escarpment; the cunning creature had a tossing range far exceeding the defender's own. The surrounded Mages scattered here and there, only to realise in the next moment that the damned shellfish landing amongst them were oysters that opened to reveal disorientated Mermen baying for Mage-flesh. Alesia immediately took it upon herself to hold down the Kraken, chugging down three pots of Mana potions to top up her reserves. She was already well-drained from the battle with Elizabeth and saw no reason to preserve her potion cool-down, not when a cephalopod was raining down Mermen from the heavens. The rest of the students, the seniors and the Mages with Ferris formed a battle line atop the Cathedral. The Abjurers had already activated the monastery fortresses' defences, fortifying its walls and creating a localised defence shield that warded away elemental attacks. Their ration of mana cores, however, was woefully undersupplied. Since the creation of the Shield Stations meant that the immediate threats against coastal regions were non-existent; few of the existing fortresses of old kept stockpiles on hand. With every oyster that struck the reinforced sandstone, the Rosebay's century-old Cathedral shuddered, sending up a wave of screams and squeals from the younger girls sheltered within. For Gwen and company, their present job was the hunt down Mermen who were flung into the courtyard and the Cathedral's interior. Unlike new fortifications which used adaptive Shielding, the old fortresses lacked hard barriers. In front of Gwen, a maddening melee ensured. It was against these rubbery skinned, hard-shelled monsters that Gwen's Lightning element was finally showing it's true colours. Dressed in an armoured battle-robe that stank of blood, sweat, and fish; sporting a full bandoleer of mana and health potions, she summoned Ariel, her Warding Orbs, Morden's Hound, Lightning Tentacles, and her Conjured Storm all at once. Each time a group of creatures accosted the lithe lightning sorceress, a cascade of azure electricity flooded forth, leaving no quarter. As she fought, her body filled with vigour supplied by her companions— Bless and Aid from Elvia; and Resistant Elements and Protection from Projectiles from Whetu. When a car-sized oyster bounced off the sandstone walls and landed beside them; Gwen's convergence of lightning struck it with such blazing power that all of the occupants perished before they could exit. "Jesus, I am going to be sick!" Yue made a gagging motion as the oyster spewed forth a mess of mangled carapace and rubbery flesh. That was the boon of the lightning element in a fight against Monsters. Apart from its paralysing effects, electricity had the additional effect of ignoring the natural armour of the creatures. Yue's flames, conversely, favoured soft, rather than hard-shelled targets. Debora acted as the girl's bodyguard, smashing apart the fish-headed Mermen that tried to disrupt their spells, cracking open the shells of lobster and crab-men alike. Whetu and Elvia played defence, as the other teams lacked Abjurers and Healers, helping the Rosebay girls who did their best to clear the cloister and the surrounding areas so that the younger students could be safely evacuated into the confines of the catacombs. There, waiting in the dimly lit passageways, they could safely await teleportation into the safety of the Tower. "Lightning Bolt!" Gwen incanted again, watching a line of electricity take down three Mermen at once, one of the prawns' head popping like an overripe melon. "Gwen, watch out!" Debora was squaring off against a heavily armoured Mermen in the guise of a king crab, wielding its massive claw as a shield as it menaced her friend. The Transmuter tried several times to penetrate its shield with Ground Spike to no avail. "Debbie! To me!" Gwen called out. As the Merman pursued, an invisible hound emerged from the aether and struck the creature's core, its electrical fangs tearing away at its carapace. Unfortunately, even paralysed, the resistance of the monster proved too much for a novice like Gwen. "Caliban! Take care of it!" "Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban likewise, proved a mighty boon. Possessing the ability to negate hard armour, it launched itself from Gwen's shadow and latched onto the terrified crab-man via the means of its chitin-devouring lamprey's maw. "I got you!" Elvia shot Gwen a charge of positively charged mana as Caliban closed the gap between itself and a crab shock trooper. The crab-man chittered indistinctly as Caliban burrowed in with a gluttonous tenacity, emerging a moment later with a core which it swallowed hungrily. Gwen felt her vitality restore a little. Between Elvia and Caliban, she could probably keep the wee beastie going for a while yet. The problem was that Caliban was only a single nightmarish creature from the horrors of the void, where everywhere they were inundated by slavering mermen. How was Alesia doing? Gwen's mind turned to her friend and sister-in-craft. So long as the Kraken lived, there would be endless cohorts of these mindless Mermen hellbent on trying to harvest their Mage flesh. Alesia's frustration was enough to ignite the air. Half-a-dozen Mermen Priests were riding atop the Kraken and flinging a fusillade of spells at her even before she approached within a hundred meters. Ice Spears, Blizzards, Water Bolts, Jet Blasts, it took every ounce of Alesia's combat intuition to duck and weave without turning into a pincushion for watery projectiles. She attempted a riposte but was half a second too slow. An Ice Bolt skimmed her and activated her reactive Flame Shield. "Arrgh— Fuck!" She knew what the cursed fish-heads were trying to do. They were trying to incapacitate her, slow her, so that she would be easy prey for a boulder toss from the Kraken or the Mermen below. In turn, she wanted nothing more than to throw them a sweet little Delayed Blast Fireball or perhaps initiate a Blade Barrier, but the damn spells were limited in range. Never in her life had she been kited by monsters, and yet, here she was, struggling to get within range. Again and again, she tried to penetrate their barrage, but each time she was beaten back. "Damn pieces of amphibian shit!" Alesia willed her flame to burn hotter. If Taj was here, he could have tanked their feeble spells while she readied an invocation of mass destruction. Just as she was wondering if she should just risk her skin and Blink in, a Message spell bloomed close to her ear. "Magus de Botton!" a voice called out beside her ear. Alesia felt her heart suddenly soar. Was the Message System back in service? She tried to activate her Device, but still, the Message failed. "This is Ferris!" the voice spoke again. "I am using my Divination to communicate with you." "I need help!" Alesia confessed. She didn't want the Grey Faction's aid, but they had to get rid of the Kraken somehow. There was no way Ferris would agree to use her personal key to teleport them into the Tower when the children were not yet safe. "Help me take care of this thing, and we can all get to the Tower!" "That's precisely what I had in mind." Ferris' voice was commanding and assured. "I still have two hundred kids in here. The Cathedral is not going to hold out once the main swarm gets here." "What can you do?" Alesia demanded. "I am going to create a diversion!" Alesia felt the air around her shimmer. There were first two, then three, then four of her, all realistic and identical in every way. She touched one and was surprised to find that the false Alesia had a flesh and blood body. "It's a Mirrored Simulacrum," Ferris explained. "They're going to be the distraction. I am going to glamour you with an Advanced Invisibility, but it will dispel if you use high-tier spells. Is that enough for you to get close?" "It'll do." Alesia grinned, assuring the Magister confidently. "They won't know what hit em." "Right, here goes!" There was a glimmer, then the light around Alesia displaced itself, masking her presence. "Good hunting!" Ferris' Message cut out, she was having her hands full maintaining three Simulacrums. A master of Illusion. Alesia felt a sudden paranoia that Ferris may have been a part of what had entrapped Henry, but when she'd given it another moment of thought, it was highly improbable. Ferris had been beside her Master almost the entire time, and though Alesia did not trust herself to see through Ferris, she entrusted Henry's intuition. The Illusion spell Alesia had also felt was different from the ones that were taught in the Tower. Having now experienced Ferris' Invisibility buff, she felt confident Ferris wasn't involved. Alesia cast her doubts aside and set herself to the task at hand. She was her Master's hammer, and once the Kraken was down, they could enter the Tower and seek out Walken. With the Tower restored, they could repel the tide of Mermen, and all would be well. Alesia circulated her flaming mana, readying her body for the carnage to follow. Already the Simulacrums were moving in rapidly, cutting across the air expertly with the same grace and dexterity that Alesia herself possessed. They were even flinging low-level incantations like Fireballs as they dodged and waved through the spells and tentacles. Alesia materialised a ruby-laden dagger in one hand, an exotic blade with sinuous designs of engraved flames that seemed not of terrestrial origin. Its handle and pommel were encrusted with rubies the size of pigeon eggs, priceless jewels by any measure. Her breathing slowed. The price of power was high. "O Efreet, Spirit of flames, heed my call…" A glyph appeared beneath Alesia's feet, three circles bisection to form a triplicate mandala, spinning faster and faster until it created a direct channel into the Elemental Plane of Fire. The air around Alesia instantly ignited, purifying the mortal cloth that clung to her skin. The spectacle lasted only half a second - for in the next moment, the channelled heat from the Elemental Plane of Fire drew into her body. The dagger bit into the palm of her hand. Alesia blood was magma, and her eyes were two golden suns. She was now flame-clad, a sensuous Djinn native to the land of primal fire, whose bellowing hair flinging out behind her formed a warm of buzzing firefly embers. "Alrighty then, you fish-faced fucks," she muttered vehemently, her eyes glaring at the Kraken. In her Efreeti form, all who challenged her should beware; for here stood the Scarlet Sorceress, she who eat foes like air.

A miniature sun dawned upon Rosebay, lighting up half the firmament with a second star. A kilometre away, within the confines of the Cathedral, Gwen and her company felt the sudden elevation of the ambient temperature. There was a screech that sounded like it came from a half-shrieking parrot, half-maddened boar that reverberated through the brine-heavy space, followed by a sound of tumbling stones in the distance which indicated that a portion of the cliff had dislodged itself from the escarpment. The Mermen paused their relentless assault, allowing Gwen to let loose an additional spell. "Lightning Bolt!" A wave of fatigue encompassed her mind as her bolt zigzagged through the stonework, exploding two burly crustacean-Mermen bearing down upon a trio of Acolytes. "I am almost out of Mana," she informed the others, her head was throbbing, an indication of spell-fatigue. "I am alright; about two-thirds spent," Yue replied as she shot off a pair of Scorching Rays. "How's everyone else?" Gwen wasn't OoM in the explicit sense, but that her remaining reservoir was for passive Conjurations. "I am about half," Whetu announced. "Same here," Elvia said. "I am close to OOM." As a melee combatant, Debora was the most exhausted of them all. With a groan, Debora straightened her athletic figure, wiping a snail sheen of sweat from her brow. "I really ought to train for Polymorph as soon as this is over." When finally news of the Leviathan's collapse reached the Mermen, a change overcame their foe. They seemed to have lost the fervour which had consumed them only a moment ago. Instead, the fish-headed warriors began to beat a retreat, shielded by their crustacean cousins. "Think the Kraken's down?" Yue tossed a Fireball into the group of Mermen that tried to organise themselves into a semblance of a phalanx. The well-armoured crab-men weathered the brunt of the damage as the Fireball erupted, leaving behind a trivial pair of smoking carcasses. Yue clicked her tongue, displeased with the lacklustre outcome. An enraged, bellowing howl emerged from the multitude of fins and shells. From the horde emerged a blubbery, bulbous monstrosity covered in viscous slime. It had a set of red, spined dorsal fins that protruded from its head, giving it the guise of a Roman centurion. The thing roared a challenge towards the girls. "Scorcher!" To Yue's surprise, her spell was stopped dead in its tracks by the creature's slimy exterior. The blubbery Merman battered away the flames by expertly shedding a layer of its bubbling, superheated slime. It roared at them triumphantly, spittle flying every which way before turning to charge the group. Stimulated by the warrior's courage, the Mermen following the centurion ceased their rout and were now moving back towards the Mages, turning the phalanx like a school of roving sardines. Yue cursed under her breath. "Gwen, you got enough oomph to take care of this?" "Evee, keep me topped." Gwen formed the sigil for a Void incantation within her mind. The Mermen should be within the range of her spell soon. "Okay!" Elvia began a Positive Energy channel. The slimy Mermen centurion was gaining momentum now, its quarter-ton bulk of muscle and slime bearing down upon Gwen and the group of juniors behind her. If the creature entered Melee range, lord knows how many of the kids it would take down before they peppered it with enough spells to dispatch it. Worse still, it's martyrdom could bolster the morale of other Mermen in the area, further complicating what should be a clean rout back to sea. "Black Tentacles!" Just as the centurion gave a triumphant cry, a mass of dark, rubbery tentacles erupted from midair and snagged its hulking form. The sudden cessation of its forward momentum took it off balance. Unlike physical appendages that would slip and slide from its slime armour, the Void tendrils utterly ignored its protective gelatine. Instead, it dug into the creature's flesh like verdurous roots searching for nourishment. The blubbery Merman screamed, a primal, guttural gurgle, then began to writhe violently as the tentacles began their terrible, life-draining labour. The Mermen who had changed directions to follow the centurion screeched to a grinding halt, their fish-faces full of undisclosed fear and horror. Gwen decided to give the throng another motivational push. "Caliban!" Drawing life from Elvia, she pushed the last of her mana into her familiar, feeling her vitality ebbing away as the serpentine nether creature took on its combat form. Caliban grew bulbous and humongous, a full two meters tall, its carapace splitting the smooth obsidian shell to reveal pulsating masses of purple-pink flesh. With a hiss, her Void beast coiled then lunged forward. It fell upon the struggling Merman, its lamprey's mouth latching onto the hulking morsel. With a sound that sounded like a man busily slurping soup, Caliban's mouth expanded and took the Mermen headfirst into its bottomless gullet. The whole spectacle took several agonising seconds; the Merman's maddening shrieks only ceased when it's flippers finally disappeared into the dark abyss that was Caliban's maw. "Shaa! Shaa! Hiss!" Caliban turned towards the rest of the Mermen, it's lamprey's mouth hungry for more, its pink throat ready to launch a volley of barbed tongues that would retrieve more morsels for its insatiable hunger. The remaining Mermen fled. "Ha!" Gwen was physically exhausted but still raised her fist triumphantly. She turned to regard her allies, expecting a humorous quip or a witty observation. Instead, Gwen found them sick with horror and ripe with revulsion. The Rosebay juniors had retreated from Gwen as though she was a Mermen herself, forming a semi-circle around Gwen's party that unquestionably suggested they wanted no association with Gwen and her aberrant ilk. Wordlessly, Gwen retracted the unspent mana from Caliban, watching it returned to its usual form. Ariel joined Caliban a moment later, performing figure-eights around her slim ankles. "I don't think we'll ever get used to that." Yue scratched her nose as she caught the terrified expressions on the faces of the Rosebay Mages. "Cali is a fucking horror show all on its own. Does wonders to morale - on both sides." "I don't mind the critter at all," Whetu retorted, sniggering. "Ai rather like the little feller. We could have used a few of em when the Mirmin landed in Tauranga." Meanwhile, Elvia restored however much of Gwen's vital energy as she could, although it was only useful as a stop-gap measure. Gwen would need to eat and rest to make up for the drain on her body. Watching the colour return to Gwen's face, Elvia wondered how that other Void Mage who had assaulted them, Elizabeth, kept up her vitality. That woman had been pumping out spell after spell of mass destruction without so much as a breather. "You guys right? Need to rest?" A Rosebay Prefect, a comely lass with auburn hair tied into a knotted ponytail, inquired carefully, keeping her distance from Gwen. "We need to see Magister Ferris," Gwen informed her. "As soon as Magus Alesia has returned from dealing with the Kraken." The auburn-haired Mage nodded at them and directed them away from the frontlines. Gwen withdrew her familiars and urged the others to follow. The group had been fighting for a solid half an hour. After the last exchange, Gwen, Yue, and Debora were now out of mana. Whetu and Elvia, who had some mana remaining, elected to stay. There wasn't near enough Healers or Abjurers, and they couldn't afford to leave the Rosebay Mages fighting by themselves. The trio retreated into the cathedral, where most of the older girls were now sheltered under the bishop's quarters, awaiting their turn to descend the narrow stairs that lead into the catacombs. The younger girls had gone first and were now waiting for teleportation in the safer confines of the old underground sanctuary. As soon as the guards had cleared them, Gwen hasted back to find her Master guarded by several Maguses and Senior Mages, palely loitering upon a pew. "He's getting weaker, healing spells and restorations both failed to improve his condition." One of the Tower Maguses' informed Gwen worriedly. "Do you know what he needs?" Gwen shook her head sadly. Her Master needed his Golden Mead, though there was no helping it now. Seated uncomfortably in the pew, Henry waved a hand weakly at his youngest apprentice, beckoning her to come closer. Sufina remained manifested beside him, but she was unresponsive and still, her body skinny and brittle; all the leaves upon her head withered and yellow. "My Lord?" Gwen kept her supplication formalised as her apprenticeship was yet to be formalised. "The… Grot…" Henry murmured a little breathlessly. "Inform— Irene, I need to return to the Grot, to gain control of the Tower..." Gwen nodded and squeezed her Master's hand. The man seemed indomitable, to see him so diminished broke her heart. "Where's Magister Ferris?" Gwen questioned one of the older Mages ticking off a chart as the Rosebay survivors shuffled into the underground. Much to her dismay, she noted that with every dozen or so names, a red strike indicating a fallen Mage. "She's by the Atrium, directing the evacuation," came the concerned reply. _WHAM!_ The double-doors violently swung open. Alesia entered in her Efreet form, making a bee-line for Ferris. In the dimness, Alesia's Efreet-body lit up the cathedral. The younger Mages below made a circular space for her as her halo of firefly embers landed with an intrusive hiss, scorching the scarlet carpet below. "The Kraken's gone," Alesia said flatly with the same tone as one having done the dishes. A cheer broke out in the cathedral, performed with conservative enthusiasm. The girls knew that although their immediate danger was resolved, Rosebay wasn't out of the rip just yet. Alesia gave Ferris a quick rundown of the situation outside. Once the Kraken was gone, the Mermen had lost their advantage. Without endless swarms of reinforcements, they would only serve as seafood for the Mages. The flames that torched Alesia began to dim, transforming from white-hot to blue, then finally to a spluttering ochre. Stolen novel; please report. Gwen materialised a robe in her hands and approached Alesia, who expectantly snuffed out her Efreet form, exposing her pale, trembling body. Her sister-in-craft was wounded in several places, bleeding profusely from a cut to her right shoulder and thigh. A developing bruise covered her right lumbar, extending from her navel all the way to her breast and shoulder. The gathering of neophytes were both awed with gratitude and stunned by her injury. Alesia was none other than the hero of the Coral Sea War, the one and the only Scarlet Sorceress, to see her so bettered in the flesh made them all the more guilty for their incompetence. "You're hurt!" Gwen intoned worriedly, materialising a healing potion she had received from Alesia prior. Alesia took the robe from Gwen and wrapped it around her body nonchalantly. She tore off the injector's tip with her teeth and slammed it into her thighs, shuddering as the rapid healing restored her broken flesh. "Here, got a souvenir for you." Her sister-in-craft made a flicking motion with her wrist. A dozen heads appeared at Ferris's footsteps, ranging from a long-nosed swordfish to the bulbous, carapaced head of a Mahi-mahi. The largest of the spoils was an octopus-like creature that was now entirely deformed. From the grey matter oozing from its burst eye-sockets, one could comprehend that the beast must have been incredibly intelligent while it was alive. "That's their Arch-Priest." Alesia nodded at Ferris. "The Kraken's half cooked and floating belly up in the bay. We should be good for our retreat." Magister Irene Ferris did not allow the shock of her mind to register on her face. Though her Divination empowered intuition had told her that Alesia de Botton was fully capable of taking down a battalion of Mermen mounted on a Siege Kraken, the reality remained awe-inspiring. No wonder the old men in the Tower lowered their voices when speaking of the sorceress. No wonder Walken decided to take the slap in the face when de Botton burned down his library. Alesia may not be able to control utility magic, create powerful items, nor participate in advanced theoretical research; but the woman was a walking engine of mass destruction. "How's Master Henry?" Ferris asked. If there was a way to salvage their crisis, it was to have Henry re-assume control of the Tower and reactivate the Message network by disabling the jamming ritual. "He is weakened and needs to return to the Grot," it was Gwen who replied. Beside her, Alesia materialised a skin-hugging combat suit and quickly dressed, heedless of the hundred or so eyes watching her. "Only by returning Master Kilroy to the Tower's Grot can we hope to regain control of the Tower." "Is he lucid at the moment?" "A little, but he is far from hale." "This is troubling, what solutions did Master Kilroy offer for returning to the Tower in the first place?" "That we aid you and your students, Magister," Gwen said expertly. "And when the school is safe, we may seek passage together into the Tower via your unique key." Ferris knitted her brows. "Would the Tower even be safe? If the Disruptor wasn't on, I could probably tell you more, but all the information we have on hand suggests Walken has taken over the core systems. I doubt he would give it up peacefully." "Then this Walken of yours is a traitor," Alesia said distastefully, her voice full of disdain. "If and when we enter the tower, we'll have to take care of him." "Eric, a traitor?" Ferris momentarily lost her composure, but couldn't refute the reality that her precious academy was now suffering. "I suppose the circumstances speak for themselves." She observed dryly. "Give me a moment." Gwen and Alesia waited on Ferris while the battle outside began to reach its final stages. By now, the Mages should be pushing the Mermen over the cliff's edge and back into the ocean. Their temporary lull was disrupted by a Senior Mage who hurriedly entered the cathedral and sought Ferris' attention. "Yes, Sandra?" Ferris turned her attention to the panting Mage. "Mistress, the Mermen are in full retreat - for now. We don't know if there are more coming, the Scrying Stations and Divi-Towers are still down." "I see. Thank you, Sandra, please organise a headcount. Recover the bodies of the fallen, if you are able." "Yes, Ma'am!" The girls watched Sandra retreat. Two guards opened the giant double doors of the cathedral, and the Mage disappeared between the light-flooded gap. "This is not going to end unless we recover the Tower," Alesia persisted. "Look around you, Irene, is this where you want to hole up and wait until reinforcements show up? Where would they even come from? New Zealand? Brisbane? We don't even know if those cities are safe themselves. How likely do you think they would bring their Tower to recover ours?" Alesia's voice echoed across the cathedral, amplified by the acoustics of its vaulted architecture. Irene Ferris regarded her surroundings. Wounded Mages, both girls from the school and its staff, leaned against pews, lying down with white faces twisted in agony. The younger girls had pallors pale as sheets, watching their surroundings with terrified, confused eyes. Near the dais, a few dozen girls were fervently praying below a benevolent statue of Mother Mary, begging her to deliver them from this crisis. Ferris had said that she wanted a moment to think, but she was genuinely lost for thought. She was not a Magister that rose to prominence due to accolades achieved through the two conflicts in the 70s and the 80s. She was the newer breed of geniuses who rose to distinction through their contribution to the study of Spellcraft, and their ability to provide essential goods and services. The warmongers jokingly called Magisters like Ferris the 'cherry' Magisters, a derogative term that denigrated their rightful place as equals. Ferris had always thought those old fools idiotic and useless, out of date and senile. Now she understood that in the face of real danger, she was honestly of little use. She couldn't strategise a theatre of War; she couldn't organise her Mages into flight teams for combat formations. If Alesia de Botton had not been here, could they have taken out the Kraken? Ferris shuddered at the thought, thinking of the price they would have had to pay to achieve the same result. If Lin was here, or perhaps Gilford from the Cairns Tower, they could be riding out with Alesia and carving out a path of blood all the way from here to the CBD. With the Divination jammer active, Ferris felt embarrassingly useless. But she was a Magister nonetheless. Irene Ferris couldn't show her vulnerable face to the proteges of her great rival. With a hardened heart, Ferris swallowed the feeling of insecurity and guilt. She took a moment to look around the century-old cathedral, seeking solace in the stained-glass figures of the saints mounted around her. What was the right thing to do here? Should she participate in their haphazard, foolhardy plan? Irene Ferris received no answers from a higher power. As a Diviner, Ferris knew better than most that men were responsible for their own choices. Fate was an insurmountable tree, but the branches of fortune do not grow without careful watering and meticulous pruning. The fruit it bore only ripened for those who were willing to risk scaling its precarious height. A commotion rippled across the cathedral's interior while Irene pondered her next move. She looked up from her thoughts to see Henry, supported carefully by Whetu, slowly tottering towards them. "My Lord! You need to rest!" Both Gwen and Alesia immediately left Irene and went to Henry, helping him find a space between the body-ridden pews. "Magister Ferris, my protege is right. I am afraid there is no more recourse. We must find a way to recover the Tower." Henry was a little restored by his rest but remained pale and weary. "What more can you tell me?" Irene probed the old Magister. Henry delivered a quick synopsis of Elizabeth's agenda, explaining that though her ultimate goal is unknowable, the discredit of the Tower system and the integration of Mage and NoM populations were high on their assailant's list objectives. Should Sydney continue to besieged, the inevitable outcome is significant casualties for Mages, and catastrophic casualties for any NoM areas penetrated by the Mermen. Henry then lapsed into a fit of coughing, but there was nothing to be done. The weakened Sufina could not provide her Master with the Golden Mead extracted from her life force. The group turned to regard Ferris, awaiting her final decision warily. Ferris measured the circumstances before her and knew that what Henry suggested was the best outcome. Without the Tower, they could not repel the Mermen. Without repelling the Mermen, they could not rebuild the Shield Barrier. Without the Barrier, there would be no end to this conflict. The Mermen could afford to lose a hundred thousand, a million merfolk. Sydney could not. The city was four million souls, of which a few hundred thousand were Mages. Then again, Henry and Irene were in opposing factions. The old man had more than once obstructed their Grey Market operations, arrested her men, and uprooted the seedlings she had sown. Could she trust that she was doing the right thing here and not merely playing into yet another of Henry's long cons? Ferris compulsively hated making uninformed decisions, especially without any aid from Augury or Divination. What if Walken was taking the opportunity to act on behalf of the Grey faction. "What of your Paladin, Mr Shultz?" Ferris asked carefully. "Should he not be the one responsible for putting down insurrections?" "Gunther should be in the Tower when it all went down," Alesia interjected on her Master's behalf. "If he is not currently fighting for his life or defending the city..." Alesia paused. She didn't want to state the obvious; saying it made it all so real. As if on cue, a thunderous cacophony fulminated, so loud as to be heard within the confines of the cathedral's interior. All other sound was drowned out as a riptide of colliding mana rolled across the heavens. The double doors tore open, a group of girl Mages stumbled into the atrium with eyes lit with wonder. "Master!" "Magister Ferris!" Ferris waited until they were closer before allowing them to speak. "It was incredible! The Leviathan was pushing towards the city centre and then suddenly, a giant beam of light blasted through the sky and took its head clean off!" The girl was breathless with excitement, trying to articulate the spectacle with both hands. "The water in the bay area is flooding back! I don't think the Leviathan can make it into the city itself!" A wary cheer rose up from those recovering in the cathedral. "That's Gunther for you," Henry said weakly, his expression bursting with pride. "Well, there are still over ten-thousand Mermen in that Leviathan," Alesia interrupted the 'good news' that the girl had brought. "Not to mention Wave Riders, Dragon Turtles, and countless critters hidden in the water itself. We need you to make a call right now, Magister, else I am heading to the frontlines to meet up with Gunther." Ferris gritted her teeth and surveyed the hopeful eyes of those around her. Even though the incursion had just been blunted, there would be no rest, no cessation to the conflict until the Mermen are pushed back. The only possibility of achieving that goal in its entirety was to regain control of the Tower. "If we enter the Tower, you are confident you can handle Walken?" Ferris questioned with lips that were dry with anxiety. "Yes," Alesia replied without blinking. "His element is borrowed Lightning, even with his expertise in Transmutation and Conjuration or what not, he shouldn't be a problem." "What about his men?" "Gwen and her team should be able to handle the occasional Acolyte. If you are willing to lend us a hand, it will make our assault doubly sure." Ferris turned to face her followers, the progenies of Rosebay Private Girls Academy. There were a few Maguses with them still, a dozen Senior Mages. "We are at your command!" The gathering knelt and placed a hand upon the rose-crest sewn into their uniforms, their shrill feminine voices firm with commitment. Gwen noted with some comfort that Julia and her team were amongst them. Ferris turned back to Alesia, standing protectively over Henry, who was resting on the pew. "What happens when we teleport in?" Ferris asked. "We make for the Grot and restore Lord Kilroy. Killing all who impede us. So long as the Master of the Tower recovers, we should be able to wrest back control of the entire system. If we can best Walken, Lord Kilroy can supersede any commands given by Walken and clear out his goons in a single stroke." Yet, despite Alesia's urging, Ferris still felt indecisive. She knew that each minute Fersheris persisted in her deliberation was a minute in which Mermen would rampage through the city, measured in human lives. "Magister Ferris, if I may have a but a moment to speak?" it was Gwen who spoke. "You may," Ferris gave her permission and considered the Eurasian girl in front of her. The Void Mageling had limitless potential, and Ferris wanted to see that potential remain unburied and carefully developed. After all, it was the highest directive of the Tower to ensure that the best bloodlines are preserved. An arbitrator with a colder heart would suggest that perhaps, only a dozen casters in Rosebay, possessing unmatched talent, truly needed to survive the city's ordeal. Everything else could be rebuilt, even the school itself could be restored within a generation, but if these young talents were lost, then catastrophe would befall the Mageocracy. Gwen began to speak. "Ma'am… I understand your pain and your indecision." Her voice took on that sonorous timbre beyond her childish face. "I do not doubt that this is a difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out to achieve. None of us, Divination or otherwise, can foresee precisely what course we will take or what casualties we may incur. There may be sacrifice ahead, ones in which both our tenacity and our will, will be tested." "BUT... Magister Ferris... the greatest danger of all would be to do nothing." Ferris felt her chest constrict. "As Mages, we have all chosen a Path, and my Path is the way of Militant Pacifism, to use everything in my power to ensure that there is peace. I care not for Factions. I care not about profit or prestige; I simply want our world to be safe, for my friends, and for my benefactor." The Diviner nodded, lost for words. "Ma'am, the cost of freedom is always high, but us Mages have always paid it. I may only be a junior Mage, not even a sanctioned Magus, but there is one Path I shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender or inaction. Ma'am, I implore you. I don't know if what we're doing is right. But the greatest wrong— would be doing nothing." When Gwen had finished speaking, the entire cathedral held its breath, fascinated with violent emotions that they had not known they possessed before Gwen's soul-searching words struck them to their very core. Ferris found herself likewise speechless. She felt the convergence of guilt and courage, hope and despair, action and inaction all-encompassing her mind at once, pushing her to give Gwen her best. Gwen Song! Ferris exalted. What a girl! A future Magister! Mayhap even a future Magi! If Ferris were to help Henry and his proteges in this moment of crisis, they would forever owe her a boon which they were compelled to return. Even if Gwen were to betray Ferris' blessing, she would have a trump card with which she could demand a boon of gratitude from Henry Kilroy- such as a crucial vote on a polemic policy. As much as de Botton droned on about the need to do the right thing, Irene Ferris was first and foremost a pragmatist. Suddenly, Irene Ferrise no longer felt that her lips were dry. Instead, they were wet with anticipation and expectation. "Well." Ferris' once ambivalent face grew flushed with expectation. "What are we waiting for? It's time to take back the Tower."

The battle within Sydney's urbanscape had now transformed from a defensive wall to a grand melee. Though the defenders had left tens of thousands of Mermen carcasses in the water before they reached the hastily Transmuted walls, the emergence of a dozen Dragon Turtles quickly changed the tide of the battle. Though an Iron Golem was incredibly resilient against the breath attacks of the draconic turtles, the ones possessed by the Frontier Military were relics from the Coral Sea War. Unlike the state of the art Steel Legions used by the Americans, these were antiquated European designs that went back to the Second World War in the fifties. They remained highly potent and effective armaments; but lacked the multi-armed, herculean strength of the newer models. As if sensing their weakness, the dozen or so Dragon Turtles that emerged from the sea lumbered toward different parts of the city, essentially splitting the Military's containment force and stretching their battle lines. "Where's Gwen when you needed her the most," Gunther lamented. If his sister-in-craft could be here, she could have hastened the Golems by striking them with her lightning spells. Gunther performed a tight corkscrew turn and made a low pass between two office buildings. One was already half shattered by the violent passage of a Dragon Turtle that had bested its Iron Golem counterpart. Its carcass though, lay not too far from the building itself, a hulking form three storeys tall, headless and limbless after it succumbed to a pyrrhic victory by the Frontier Militia. Comparatively, the Tower Mages were performing their duties with minimal casualties. As Gunther flew by the shattered streets, sniping the wayward Mermen that appeared from broken shopfronts dragging civilians in cruelly barbed nets, he despairingly acknowledged the systematic failure of their collective defence network in the absence of its command centre. "Help! Help! Oh, God! Someone help!" "I'll boil you alive, you lobster bastard!" "Arrrgh! Arrgh! My arm! It broke my arm!" A pair of heavily armoured crustacean Mermen were dragging a bountiful harvest of human prisoners behind them, heading back awards the ocean. With a few water-breathing enchantments from a Sea-Priest, the prisoners could be made suitable for labour or nourishment. Their prisoners, six humans whose silhouettes were indistinct in the cumbersome net, was threatening, begging, and crying for the Mermen to release them. As a Paladin, the sight brought a terrible ire to Gunther's chest. These brazen bastards! They were already looting when the battle was hardly over! With a wave of his hand, two beams took the Mermen in the torso, severing them from chest to groin. A third blast severed the net, allowing the trapped prisoners within to struggle free. As the prisoners crawled from their previous confinement, they looked for their saviour, expecting a Magus to alight from the heavens and exchange a few gloating words of expected gratitude. They were left wanting, however, for the street remained deserted save for an avenue of smoking Mermen carcasses. Having cleared the area, Gunther was already a block away and accelerating towards the next checkpoint, where a flight of Tower Mages were fighting for their lives. His Radiant Aura transformed into a streak of light as he powered through the Quay and towards the CBD, mindful of the aberrantly quiet Tower floating above, an apathetic God without a sliver of care for its children suffering below. At Alesia's behest, Irene assembled a Rosebay team of Elite Mages, two Magus and Three Senior Mages, including her star pupil Julia. They had an Abjurer-Enchanter, a Transmuter-Evoker, and three others covering the tasks of Healing, Transmutation, and Conjuration. Blackwattle's fire team was Gwen and her companions, consisting of Yue, Whetu, Debora, and Elvia, as well as Alesia herself. Their barely lucid Master, Henry Kilroy, was snugly bundled and strapped to Whetu, who promised to keep the Magister safe so long as he had breath enough for one more Shield. Alesia once again demonstrated the incredible resilience of one who had survived two major conflicts, draining a dozen HDMs in the time it took Gwen to mediate and restore half of her own. Their time for rest proved fleeting, however, and the teams had to make do with mana injectors and quick meditations. With Ferris compliantly giving up her Teleportation glyph, Paul, the translocation specialist, synchronised the Long-Range Teleportation Platform underneath the Cathedral to the Mid-Tower base station. "If the Tower is still in contingency mode, the Spirit Core shouldn't be announcing your arrival. However, the teleportations circles are going to be lit like Christmas the moment I activate the glyph, so expect to materialise in a hot-zone." "That's fine, Paul. Can we teleport in 'hot'?" A look of cunning comprehension exchanged between the two long-time teammates. Paul smirked. "Just give me a few more minutes, I'll have the portal stabilised in no time." While they waited, Alesia materialised an armoured robe that intensely radiated an aura of Enchantment so luxuriant as to create a pale glow visible to the unenchanted, naked eye. "Is that…" Ferris' eyes opened just a little wider. "Not the real deal, no," Alesia explained, throwing off her top and struggling out of her pants. She uttered a command word, and the tunic lifted into the air, slipping over her head. "It's a replica that I acquired from London after doing a few favours for the Cambridge Tower." Once attired, the robe quickly shrank to accommodate Alesia's figure. It's sides split to offer more significant mobility, while the armoured sections mounted her arms and shoulders, conforming to her breasts. Below, skirt section bellowed out impressively in a flowing stream of crimson chiffon. "What is it that you're wearing?" Gwen asked Alesia out of curiosity. "A replicated Robe of the Arch-Mage," Whetu interjected with bright eyes full of wonder. "Henry has a set as well; even the replicas are priceless." "What does it do?" Yue asked. She had never seen tier 1 Magical Items before. They were exceedingly rare in the 'countryside' that is Frontier Cities. Alesia stretched herself out, her taut figure enhanced by the second skin of the form-fitting armoured robe. "Permanent Resist Elements, Protection from Projectiles and Melee Damage," Alesia intoned proudly. "The real one possesses the additional property of greatly increasing your Elemental affinity," she added sagely, twirling to show the girls the cut and make of the rare robe. The two teams marvelled at Alesia's unique garb, using the opportunity to distract themselves from the anxious prickle of their fraying nerves. Even Irene joined in, speaking long and meticulously about the creation of the original Arch-Magi robe by the Mage Morden. Beside them, Paul had finished changing the last of the Teleportation glyphs. "This is a one-way trip. I hope you're all ready." "Remember to stay in formation," Ferris informed her team. Reminding herself that the Mages in the Tower were still members of her Faction, she added a hopeful, 'Don't fire until fired upon,' which made Alesia raise a critical brow. Though the girls were breathless with nervous anticipation; Alesia seemed entirely in her element. "Just get us in, and we'll get the Tower back, no trouble," she confided the assemblage with absolute confidence. "Failure won't be a problem. It's death or glory, do or die." Ferris shot Alesia a wilting look that suggested otherwise. Both teams were buffed and warded, blessed and shielded. Irene even front-loaded each of the offensive casters with a True Strike. They were as ready as they were ever going to be. "I am beginning the Invisibility Shield," Ferris intoned. As she initiated the chant, the air surrounding the two teams shimmered. "Alright," Paul began. The platform began to glow with the signature quick-silver mana of Conjuration. "Three— Two— One—" On the count of 'Two', Alesia began an invocation. "Empowered Delayed-Blast Fireball!" Ferris looked up with an expression of shock and dismay. "What ar..." The Teleportation Circle enveloped them. Jules had been receiving a lecture from Lord Gunther Shultz, Paladin of the Tower, when a siren rang out throughout the Tower. "NOW ENTERING QUARANTINE MODE." He was as shocked as anyone when the Tower furthermore began to teleport 'dissidents' from its interior, leaving behind only himself and three others in the cohort of new Acolytes. When the madcap red light of the Tower's defensive system died, a command in the familiar voice of his Grandmaster, Magister Walken, vocalised throughout the public announcement glyphs. "This is Magister Walken— all members of the Grey Faction are to gather at the atrium for debriefing at thirteen-fifteen. Any members who fail to comply will be discharged from the Tower." Still dazed with confusion, Jules and the others made their way hastily to the atrium. There, a hundred or so Mages, mostly juniors, had already gathered. When enough of them had filled the chamber, the austere figure of Magister Walken dressed in a dazzling set of armoured combat robes appeared at the command dais. The Magister and Master of the Grey Market was a quiet man with intense dark eyes. His face would have been handsome once, though now it was gaunt. Now, the Magister's presence was more or less 'forgettable'. However, it was precisely such an unmemorable figure, together with the support of his two peers, Lin and Ferris, who created the most extensive "unofficial"' trading emporium in Oceania. Standing at a mere five-foot-nine, the once unassuming Magister was now radiating an aura of command, his loosely styled dark hair cut with streaks of silver. Both of his hands were a spectacle of rare, exotic rings, while around his head rotated no less than six Ioun Stones. He was the very vision of an Archmage, inspiring his followers to let loose raptured cheers of jubilation. Jules wasn't the sycophantic kind, but peer pressure was an infectious drug. Above him, the Magister began to speak of dire tidings. "Factioners of the Grey Market, I come as the bringer of terrible news. As of twenty minutes ago, we are in a state of War. The Mermen incursion which has been held back by the Tower is once again upon us. It is now our solemn duty to keep the Tower safe from enemy hands." The illusion-empowered Glyphs built into the atrium began to construct a real-time vision of the scene below— a dozen shielding stations in smoking ruin, an armada of Mermen riding for the city. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Ragged cries of dismay broke out among the crowd below. Some urged immediate action, while others questioned what the hell the Tower was doing at a time like this. Where was Gunther Shultz? Its Knight Protector? Where was the Master of the Tower? "I know what you are thinking. Why are we attacked? Why is the Tower disabled? Why are Message spells jammed?" Walken paused, his tri-colon to resonating across the almost empty hall that should be housing a thousand battle-ready Mages. "We are not in the midst of combat - because we have been betrayed! More so, the traitor is Henry himself! The Master of the Tower is not as he seems!" The crowd gasped. "Behold what Kilroy's selfish actions have wrought upon us!" A series of images created through magical glamour flickered to life. The hyperrealistic vision showed a woman with skin as white as snow, massacring what appeared to be a coastal military base with dark tendrils of Void. The crowd gasped and gagged at sight. The slaughter was utterly indiscriminate: men, women, mermen, NoMs and Mages, none escaped her life-seeking lamprey tentacles. "That's... that's Noose Heads!" someone cried out within the crowd. All present had heard of the Massacre at Noose Heads. It was before the creation of the Tower— a place where humanity had lost over four hundred promising acolytes to an ambush by the Mermen. But the cause for the invasion and the disappearance of the Mages remained unresolved. Jules furrowed his brows. If so, why were they been shown this now? The second set of images showed a group of Mages piling what appeared to be another group of casters, tied and gagged, into iron cages. The montage progressed until the vision became that of a dark warehouse filled with bloodstained hospital beds where Mages, presumably captured prisoners, were being dissected for their organs. Overseeing the operation was yet again, an ageless young woman with pure white skin and dark hair. An angry murmur spread throughout the crowd. The mood changed from confusion and question to outright resentment and hostility. "It is with dire danger to himself that a friend and companion of our Faction was able to expose these nefarious operations. The heart of all this horror and misery lies in this woman, the very same responsible for the massacred youth at Noosa Heads." A projection materialised, a photo of Elizabeth, looking older, more worn and travelled. The lumen-recording was an official portrait taken from the Tower's records. A few of the senior Mages in the crowd gasped. "That's… that's Elizabeth Winsted Sobel! She's the war hero!" "What? The Goddess of the Coral Sea Conflict?" "The very same!" "I've seen her on the propaganda recordings." "Impossible!" "She's dead, right?" "Is she… undead?" "That witch!" "Those poor kids..." "Those poor sobs getting gutted!" Walken matched a few of the images from the previous sets with the lumen-recording of Elizabeth, drawing gasps from the room. Jules felt physically assailed by conspiracy. It was possible to fabricate the whole thing, of course, illusions can be crafted and created by meticulous Illusionists, but the crowd saw no reason why their patron and Master would go to such lengths to deceive them. After all, Walken had brought great boons to the Tower via the Grey Market. He was well known as a generous Magister, dependable and protective of his acolytes. Satisfied that the crowd was sufficiently incensed, Walken continued. "At first, I too doubted my findings. How could a war hero become such a virulent plague upon our society?" Another image appeared, this time of Henry and Elizabeth in the setting of a family portrait. "Furthermore, as some of you may know, Master Kilroy and Elizabeth Sobel are husband and wife. Why would the Master of Oceania betray his people, the same Mages he pledged to protect? For love, perhaps, or maybe a darker purpose?" The image flickered again, this time of Elizabeth in the full fury of combat, swirling with motes of malignant darkness made the room flicker ominously. The illusionary projection was lifelike and recorded candidly, giving the gathering a taste of what it was like to face Elizabeth in combat. "SOBEL is a Void Mage! A caster in command of the forbidden element! A step away from Necromancy!" Walken announced. Another vision, this time a candid shot of Elizabeth draining the life from another Mage, a dozen others already dry husks beside her swirling, darkling form. "That's Victor's team!" Another voice cried out from the crowd. "They disappeared two years ago! I got told that Saurians ambushed his party!" Jules felt his own heart pounding uncontrollably. The revelations they received were far too shocking and horrifying to be accounted for logically. The Master of the Tower's wife was a murderer, a traitor, and now she was also a Void Mage? It was earth-shattering news! Furthermore, the woman was deceased! Ancient history! There was something strange and illogical about it all, but Jules couldn't question the Master, not when the crowd was spitting venom. Walken continued to speak, collapsing the image with a wave of his hand. "I too, had thought myself mistaken. There must be some explanation for all this. In the months that followed, I shadowed Magister Kilroy and his operations— but thankfully uncovered nothing. I was glad; I was delighted that our Master was innocent, that this may not be his wife, that this could be a look-alike; a doppelgänger." "Yet, as some of you know, Master Henry had recently acquired a new protege." The younger men nodded to themselves, thinking of the Lightning Sorceress, Gwen Song. The lovely, lithe young girl had been a regular feature of the Tower in the last few months. She had conversed with them and shared friendly chit-chats. Many of them had designs on the girl, doing small favours for her in the hopes of catching her attention. "I regret to inform you that she too, is a Void Mage." Another illusion appeared, this time projecting the epic combat between a group of girls and a giant spider in some salt mine. The vision seemed to be from the perspective of one of the participants, a Transmuter. The gathered watched as she summoned sand pillars to halt the speed of the spider-creature, but was too inexperienced to provide adequate cover for her allies. As the girls fought, they saw Gwen shoot off lightning bolts that cascaded harmlessly from the creature's salt-studded armour. The spider then burst through the pillars and lunged straight for the girls, making several of the inexperienced observers stagger backwards at the hyper-reality of the illusion. Then without warning, the spider dropped— a horrid looking parasite, half worm, half lamprey, carapace in darkness and wet with ichor, burst from the spider's thorax. 'Shaa! Shaa!" The disgusting, malignant thing cried out, its slimy, putrid body wet with strange fluids from the interior of the sand-spider. The vision ceased. A few of the watchers turned and hurled, triggering a wave of gags. Walken waited, watching the crowd. "Still, I thought my friend, Henry Kilroy, may yet be uninvolved - until a dutiful agent delivered the terrible truth to my hand." Another illusion appeared, this time, the vision showed an office. Gwen Song was there, as well as an older blonde woman. Henry and his Familiar sat on a seat by themselves. The crowd murmured when they saw Gunther Shultz, the Paladin of the Tower, among that secret meeting. They were all listening intently to a shadowy figure deliver a revelatory address. Behind the shadow was a stone-faced Mage sitting behind a desk, looking drained and hollow. "Ain't that Mark Chandler!" A voice pointed out. "From the Black Cat Agency?" "The very same!" "Didn't he disappear last year? The Agency shut down!" "Jesus, what the hell is happening?" Within the vision, the gathering of Mages was watching the shadowy form of a girl, her ethereal body writhing in agony, her face a mask of malice with a palpable hatred for the living. "Jane…" in the vision, Mark began to speak. "Jane, we don't have much time… tell them how you died." "Died… I died…" The shadowy form of 'Jane' mouthed in her necromantic guise, her face indistinct. Suddenly, the ghost cried out, a guttural, banshee's screech that went on and on, sending slivers of ice down the spines of the observers. "Murdered... I was murdered!" "No! Necromancy!? In Sydney?" "Unforgivable!" An explosion of virulent emotions erupted. Even Jules felt caught up in the intense moment, finding himself rising his fists willingly and shouting out angry slurs. Necromancy! Had the world not suffered enough under its yoke?! Who were these that dared bring Necromancy back to these purified lands of Oceania? Just because they were the Masters of the Tower, they thought they could get away with such a crime against humanity? The image changed and shifted. They watched the shared vision of the ghostly girl's demise, of Elizabeth's inhuman act. Of Jane's final moments in Noosa. "Jesus…" "Oh, Gods…" "That poor girl..." The crowd momentarily forgot their anger when the dark sun blossomed over Noosa Heads. When the ghost thankfully perished, they saw Mark Chandler denounce the gathering, shouting accusations in turn at Henry, then at Gwen, becoming excited and agitated with each passing second. "Put her in the chamber, Henry! Put her in and you'll— you'll know why Elizabeth is still alive— Ha! You were all wrong! My poor Jane— if you hadn't covered it up Henry— if—" Then abruptly, Gunther Shultz moved from where he stood and assaulted Mark Chandler. Without even incanting a spell, Gunther had reached across space between them, caught Mark by the hair, and slammed his face against the stout oaken table. Mark's limp body then fell to the floor like a sack of slack potatoes. The vision ended with Gunther teleporting away with Mark. The perspective of the informant ended with Henry and Gwen alone in the room. "Do you now understand the stakes?" Walken spoke to the crowd slowly, biting each syllable. "Henry Kilroy - Elizabeth Sobel - Gwen Song, they are all vipers of the same pit. They are working together to impair our very society for their benefit! A deathless Magister that drew life from his Dryad; a deathless Void Mage that stole life from others! Furthermore! A new apprentice of both Lightning and the Void element! A serpent in the egg, which when hatched, shall be more poisonous than both Henry and his wife!" "Not only that! The Paladin of the Tower, Gunther Shultz, in cahoots! A dog that traffics with wolves!" Walken cried out bitterly. "We are nothing but food to this family of life-sucking vampires, livestock and chattel! We exist only to feed their hunger for power, to develop their own forsaken magics. They may not behave like lions in public, but to them, we are boars!" The crowd silent, then inevitably, their raging, pend up emotions exploded into a fitful clamour. "Down with Kilroy!" "Down with Shultz!" "Save the Tower! Save Sydney!" Walken furiously struck the dais to steer the violent emotions of the crowd. "We are now in a moment of crisis. I did not wish to put my contingency plan into effect. However, when Watson Bay Shielding Station became disabled earlier, it became clear that whatever Elizabeth and Henry had planned was coming to fruition. Therefore, in his absence, I took the opportunity to assume control of the Tower's core systems." He once again engaged the real-time vision of the scene below: a Leviathan, multiple Krakens, an armada of Mermen roving into the city. Cries of horror and frustration erupted from the Mages below him. They had family down there! Friends and allies! "I fear the Tower will not be joining the defence of the city. I have already disabled long-range communication to prevent any further complications." Walken said grimly. "I cannot risk the Tower, the most powerful instrument we possess, falling into the hands of Henry Kilroy again. Already, I have sent out Messages explaining our circumstances and requesting immediate aid from Melbourne and Brisbane. With any luck, they should be here to aid us in cleansing the city. As well as arresting Kilroy and his ilk." Jules felt his breath catching in his chest. He wanted to believe. Indeed, those around seemed to accept Walken without question. However, there were so many aspects of Walken's narrative that seemed at odds. Above upon the dais, Walken was now confidently in command. "While Gunther and Kilroy occupied themselves with the invasion, we must keep the Tower safe. As such, us Greys will assume guard duty until either of the other two Towers arrive, bringing with them the blessings of Magister Lin or Magister Luther. Do you understand?" A smattering of 'Yessir' resounded from the uncertain crowd, more preoccupied with the dire circumstances facing their families. "You are not compelled to stay if you are not with us. If you wish to abandon the Tower to Void Mages and Vampires - I can teleport you out right now, safely deposited inland." The crowd considered their options while Walken persisted in his rhetoric. "Friends, students, compatriots! We cannot lose this war! Sydney must survive even if we do not!" Walken raised his voice resolutely. "YESSIR!" The crowd chorused back. Jules unwittingly followed suit. His mind a confused muddle of conflicting feelings against the actualities of his position. A second later, the ranking Mages began to give them orders, but Jules was too preoccupied to comprehend their hastily given commands. There was so much that didn't make sense to him. Why would someone who is so intimately known to Magister Kilroy betray him? How authentic were the lumen-recorded illusions? Furthermore, why would the Paladin of the Tower, numbered as one of the highest authorities in the Tower, betray the institution itself? Why was Master Walken privy to so many of Kilroy's secrets, and why was it all coming out without consulting any of the other Magisters? Afterall, Magister Ferris and Magister Lin were both members of the Grey Faction, all they had to do to remove Kilroy was convince three more Magisters out of the ten. With the evidence Master Walken had demonstrated, it should prove no trouble. Jules wanted answers to these pressing questions but lost to the momentum of the crowd. He shuffled from the room like a ghoul, unmindful of his steps as he bumped shoulders with others, who likewise alternated between fervent and perplexed. "Hey Jules, we got the mid-section Teleportation stack." Frederick, his university alumni, tapped him on the shoulder. "How about this, huh? Lord Kilroy, a traitor and his wife a life-sucking Vampire, pretty rad if you ask me." Jules nodded absentmindedly, masking his thoughts from his friend. "I can't believe that sweet little thing is a Void Mage too. She was a sight for sore eyes. Did you know that I even offered to take her out once?" "Yeah," Jules mumbled. "You tell it every other week." "I am worried about my sis, you know. I am glad they live inland though, all the way south of the western suburbs. Sucks to be one of the coastal folks, hey? Where's your family located?" "Canberra." "Lucky," Frederic quipped, using the conversation to mask his growing anxiety. "Chin up, Jules, we got to hold the Tower until help arrives. I can't wait to see the vid-cast trials for this fiasco. Reckon they'll fill the Stasis Prison or just go straight for public execution?" "Who knows?" Jules felt a shiver despite the controlled clime of the Tower's interior. It took them a few rides on bisecting routes of levitation platforms to arrive at the mid-way Teleportation Chamber. There were a dozen guards stationed at the Teleportation Circles, Jules included. The Evoker languishingly took up position in the dimness of the Tower's interior. Usually, the place was a hive of activity, each corridor illuminated by glowing sigils that mimicked daylight. Now, most of the passages were burning with a dull red, indicating that the Tower was in Quarantine mode. To the acolyte's knowledge, of his Faction, only Magister Ferris was currently present in Sydney. Jules hoped that the wizened Diviner would make an appearance and answer some of his questions. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, or mayhap the Magisters reach a compromise. There were Factions within the Tower, Jules understood that, but he'd hoped that in the face of racial extermination by the Mermen, only the "Faction" called humanity mattered. Jules found a comfortable nook and sat, meditating to soothe out the turbulent mana stirred up by his emotions. Hopefully, whoever teleported through these circles could bring an invocation of True Seeing that would dispell the twisted illusions haunting their present reality.

Alesia's Delayed Blast Fireball enveloped the mid-Tower Teleportation Chamber a split second after her group materialised upon the platform. The damage was near-instantaneous; the sealed chamber simply lit up; there was a flash of quicksilver mana, then the world burned. When Ferris and her party next appeared on the platform, the dizzying scent of scorched flesh and sizzling fat assaulted their nostrils. No one had expected that a split-second into their quest, they would bear witnessed was the cold-blooded murder of a dozen members of the Grey Faction. Ferris did not doubt that she would have known at least one of the Mages, either as an associate or alumni. What if one of them had wanted to converse with her? What if they were unwitting participants of the conspiracy at hand? She felt assailed by guilt, but also glad that she couldn't recognise their charred miens. A few of the girls began to cry when one of the crispy cadavers convulsed, its involuntary struggle triggered by raw nerves still tethered to contracting flesh. Ferris shook with indescribable fury as she turned toward the culprit, challenging the Scarlet Sorceress' cold, ultramarine eyes. Alesia de Botton looked as though she did something utterly inconsequential. "To the Grot," Alesia announced. "We need to get Master Kilroy in there as soon as possible." Ferris looked to Henry to see if the old Magister had anything to say about his bloodthirsty entourage. To her dismay, the attack dog's handler was inhaling and exhaling weakly, oblivious upon the Maori's back, blind to the world. Gwen and her company likewise averted their eyes as they passed the victims, about a dozen in all. Only now did the blood began to seep out from the orifice of their charred, inanimate forms. Ferris repressed her anger, choosing to keep her lips pursed. Bereft of her Divination, she wasn't sure what to expect after teleporting into the Tower. A standoff seemed the reasonable outcome, a confrontation with Walken's followers more than likely. What she had not expected was her immediate participation in the wholesale slaughter of Walken's acolytes. What would her ally think of them now? How could she face him and expect him to be rational after this? "Nothing is getting between Lord Kilroy and that Grot," Gwen's sister-in-craft informed Ferris with eyes that were glazed over with single-minded determination, twinkling madly with suggestions of zealous ultraviolence. The platform began to ascend. "Alesia... Magus de Botton," Ferris spoke with as much diplomacy she could muster. "I ask that you refrain from taking so many lives. We need to preserve the life of every Mage we can if we wish to combat the Mermen and restore the Tower." Alesia shook her head. "With all due respect, Magister, they were attempting to ambush us. It was them or us - and I was faster, that was all there was to it." Ferris held her gaze against Alesia's own. The two women said nothing more as the platform shot towards the Tower's zenith. When they began to approach the entrance to the Grot, however, it was evident that the final chamber of the Tower was under guard. "Halt!" A voice cried out before the platform even reached its destination. "Present yourselves! Hands in the air! Else we will disengage the platform's levitation!" Ferris' pleading grey irises meet with Alesia's. "I could have left you down there, but I give you the benefit of the doubt. Please, give me mine," Ferris implored. "Alesia. There has been enough death today." From his vantage point, Alec Guerre dared to breathe a little when he saw the platform and its cargo of Mages raise their hands submissively. There was Alesia de Botton amongst them, the Void Mageling— Gwen Song, as well as Magister Ferris and what looked to be a comatose Magister Kilroy. When the floating disc completed the final few meters of its journey, docking onto the remote platform housing the Grot with an audible click, Guerre exhaled in relief. The two groups of Mages looked upon one another warily as Guerre fired off a Message spell via the Tower's intra-systems. "Sir, I have Magister Ferris, Magus Alesia, and Gwen Song at the entrance of Kilroy's Grot. It looks like Kilroy is with them as well, but he looks incapacitated." "Excellent, stall them while I gather the men. I'll be there very soon," Walken replied. "Lord Ferris, Major de Botton, Ladies and Gents," the Magus addressed each of them in turn, eventually adding a respectful, "Grandmaster Kilroy." "Magus Guerre, in the interests of all involved, please remove yourself from our path," Ferris intoned with a tone of command. "This is an emergency." Guerre seemed unmoved by the Magister's command. "I am afraid I cannot do that, Ma'am. Additionally, I regret to inform you that I must take Lord Kilroy, Major de Botton, and Gwen Song into custody." "On what charge?" Ferris questioned, her eyes narrowing. "On harbouring a mass murderer and a traitor who trafficks in Mage-kin, and on charges of harbouring Void Mages with dissident interests against the Tower and the city." To Guerre's surprise, Ferris ignored his warning and persisted in dressing him down. "Magus Guerre, I suggest you remove yourself at once, or else." To Guerre's eyes, Ferris appeared both annoyed and embarrassed that he had challenged her authority. "I can't do that," Guerre rejected flatly, enclosing his hands in the form of a shielding incantation as he spoke. "Globe of Invulnerability!" An invisible shield shimmered before the gate to the Grot, covering Guerre and his Mages. The Abjurer Magus watched as Ferris flushed a deep scarlet. She must have thought her authority was sufficient, but Guerre was in no mind to follow her orders, not with the revelations that he had seen. All of the Mages that remained in the Tower were loyal to Walken. Without her acolytes and supporter's presence in the Tower, the non-combatant Diviner was powerless. Guerre watched the group squirm behind the magic-negating barrier. Soon, his superior would arrive, and that would be the end of these Void Mages. The group watched as Guerre and his assemblage smugly accosted thin air, looking mightily pleased with their 'success'. "See?" Ferris turned to Alesia triumphantly. "No need for more bloodshed. nothing like a good Grandeur." "We'll see about that," Alesia replied ominously. The group moved past the guards who smugly regarded the paralysed, indecisive illusions and made for the gate. Even as they passed the glamoured Mages, they seemed not to notice them. Unlike lower-tier magic, high-tier Illusions were incredibly immersive when employed under the right circumstances. Whetu brought Henry forward. Gwen pressed her master's hand against the double-door as she had seen him do so many times before. There was a moment in which they held their breath, but the ironwood portal opened without incident. Within the Grot, much had changed. With Sufina severely drained by the Void elementals, the Grot itself was now bog-like, damp and dark, more akin to a rotting rainforest than a verdant garden. Alesia ushered the others into the sanctuary, led by Whetu carrying Henry. The instant they passed the barrier gate, the old Magister stirred into a semblance of consciousness. "To the heart chamber... Gwen should know…" When Ferris and her group sought to gain entry through the portal, Alesia lowered a hand to obstruct their passage. "We'll hold the fort here," Alesia intoned stubbornly. "The pocket dimension can only hold so many people." Ferris considered the cost of challenging Alesia's innocuous statement and found the prospects wanting. Had their role been reversed, she too would have barred Alesia from her Oracle room. The Magister knew well enough that within the Grot was the heart of Henry's domain. If she wished to remain their ally and benefit from the operation's success, then she mustn't challenge this particular threshold of their tenuous alliance. "Fine, we stall them here." Ferris could hold the Grandeur steady for a quarter of an hour; after that, they would likely have to deal with Walken's wrath. "How long would it take to restore Kilroy?" Ferris inquired, her lips felt parched. She couldn't help feeling as though she had painted herself into a corner. Watching Alesia's hawkish gaze toward Guerre and his Mages, an uncomfortable alternative crossed her mind. Should the matter proceed toward violence, how would she commit herself? With her Illusionary abilities and Alesia's destructive potential, they could probably systematically silence every living soul within the Tower. "How long do you propose? An hour? Longer?" "As long as it takes." Alesia met Ferris' eyes sternly and began to renew her buffs. "As I said, its do or die." Directed by Gwen, Whetu and the others followed into the heart of Kilroy's sanctuary until they reached a humongous Banyan. The thick, woven roots of the tree formed into a sheltered space hollowed out by the lifting timber. Above, thickly braided roots that hung as though a great beard. With Whetu's aid, Gwen lifted the ragdoll body of her master and placed him within the heart of Sufina's Grot. At first, nothing seemed to come to pass. The team watched with nerve-wracking agitation. "Gwen, do you think..." Yue was the first to speak. "No," Gwen replied sternly. "Patience, I can feel something here." There was a sense of familiarity about the mana that seemed to surround them, embedded in the fleshy walls of the Banyan tree. Gwen thought of Sufina, of her Master, and something that would trigger a sense of recognition. The answer she found brought a smile to her lips. Gwen produced from her Storage Ring the gift she had received from Almudj and placed it upon Henry's person. The scale grew warm in her hand and began to shed a scintillating light, painting the Grot with rainbow hues. To no one's surprise, Debora left the chamber, attracting a discouraging snort from a critical Yue. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The next few minutes were agonising, though thankfully, Henry's complexion eventually changed from lily to peach, indicating a slow restoration of the old Magister's vitality. When Henry's breathing returned to a regular cadence, the group collectively exhaled, finally drawing in fresh breaths. "Well, we did it." Gwen brushed a stroke of loose hair from her Master's face. "Thank Master Alesia and that Magister Ferris," Yue injected a hint of nervous mirth into the conversation. "I am surprised she pulled through." "I hope he recovers soon," Elvia added, her face regaining its colour now that there was light at the end of this particular dark dungeon. "Where's Debora?" Gwen asked, puzzled that a member of their team was so distant at a pivotal time like this. "She's outside," replied Elvia, who had seen Debora leave. "You know, her 'allergy' with the scale." "I don't mind her so much these days, but man, she's such a weirdo when it comes to these things," Yue wanted to take a dig at their xenophobic friend, but Debora's recent performance compelled her to bite her tongue. The Shire girl had worked hard and done well against the Mermen, defending the two Evokers expertly during the grand melee. Just as Gwen felt at a loss for her friends' persistent distance, Debora ducked into the archway of the heart chamber. "Guys, we got trouble." Her brown eyes were anxious with apprehension. "There's a lot of them out there." Gwen turned to regard Henry, sensing that her Master was breathing easier with each passing moment. She could feel through Almudj's gift that Sufina's life-tree was revitalising. The main thing now was to stall until Henry could recover. If her Master could regain even a fraction of his powers, they could resume control of the Tower and resolve their convoluted crisis. Gwen touched Henry's wrinkled hands. Her master had given her so much. Now was the time to repay his kindness. "This is not going to be easy," she began, but the stirring rhetoric wasn't necessary. "We're with you." "Let's do it!" "To the bitter end! Though I hope it doesn't come to that." Gwen felt her heart fill with rapture as they huddled. Come hell or high water; she was ready. When the group returned to the entrance of the Grot, Ferris was in a heated argument with a grey-haired Mage impressively attired in an enchanted robe, decked with swirling Ioun Stones. "Eric, this is insane! Stand down at once! I can't believe you've set the whole city on fire for your little games! Just wait until the other Magisters hear of this! Lin won't stand for it!" "I am insane?! You're the one who will be persecuted by the High Council! Kilroy has been a plague; he's been hiding Sobel for decades, there's nothing you can do to deny this fact! His wife is a mass-murderer, the reason for the Noosa Heads Massacre! Who do you think barters for the Mages she trafficks! She'd tied to this invasion, mark my words!" "That may be! It doesn't excuse the fact that you have withheld the Tower from coming to the aid of the city! You disabled communication and ensured that hundreds of Mages, tens of thousands of NoMs who might have survived are now dead! We're not warmongers, Eric! You've taken this too far." "You don't know what I have seen, Irene. Kilroy's hand is as bloody as they come! He's in cahoots with Sobel, you'll see. How could I let the Tower fall into the hands of the enemy?" "Don't be such a fool, Eric. I was there when they fought! Why do you think Henry is in this state? If he was alive and well, how could the Mermen even penetrate the shields? You should know better to be blinded by your ambition! Even if Henry was a mass-murderer himself, it's up to the Tower to implicate him, not you, Eric! Not you!" The two Magisters of the Grey Faction exchanged a few more barbed accusations before separating with reddened faces. When Walken saw Gwen's group emerge from the Grot, his complexion took on a darker shade. "Irene, for God's sake, move aside!" The Diviner bit her lower lip until it flushed a shade purple. She knew that her ally was strongly prejudiced against Kilroy. Whoever had clouded Walken's perspective of the truth knew well the man's inclination for grudges and conspiracy. "I am sorry, old friend. I cannot allow this farce to go any further than it already has." Beside Ferris, Alesia stared down at Walken coldly as if daring him to try her. "I'd listen to Master Ferris if I was you," Alesia spat venomously. "This time, it's not going to be just your library that goes up in kindling." "Silence, hellcat of Kilroy!" Walken snapped before turning to Ferris. "Irene, I don't want to hurt you, but you're forcing my hand!" Gwen and the others watched the exchange behind the Grot's portal, mesmerised by the spectacle of Oceania's highest ranked Mages about to square off in a chamber that was no larger than a generous classroom. A single cataclysmic spell would collapse the room and decimate every living soul contained herein. It was a curious dilemma. Use low-tier spells, and they couldn't penetrate each other's defences. Use high-tier spells, and they could tear the whole place apart. Walken's gaze fell upon Gwen. "There! Do you see her, Irene? There's the little Void vixen that Henry is raising. She'll be the death of us all, mark my words. A walking calamity!" Gwen was as shocked as anyone that Walken, a Magister she had never seen before in her life, was addressing her so vehemently. "I have seen her Void Magic, Eric. She is not as you describe." "The Council will be the judge of that!" Walken spat smugly. Gwen followed Walken's cold, dark eyes as the Magister's gaze surveyed each inch of her figure. The man's gaze was a scalpel trying to dig under her skin and uncover how she ticked. She'd felt the same gaze before, when she'd dealt with Mark Chandler - the man was hunting for secrets that he believed was buried deep somewhere within her. As a Magister, the pressure from the man's intent gaze as immense, appearing as though he was dissecting her piecemeal. It was Alesia who moved between them and freed Gwen from the torturous attention. "That's enough," she intoned coldly. "You want to bully someone, try me." "Insolent wench!" Motes of Transmutation and Conjuration erupted from Walken as the last ounce of his patience was spent. A portal opened beside him, battering the chamber with a terrific gust that forced Gwen's company to shield their eyes. Walken was summoning his familiar, a Couatl from the Elemental Plane of Air. "A fancy snake isn't going to save you," Alesia opened up her mana channels, igniting the air surrounding her body, menacing the Magister recklessly. "Last chance, Walken." "Globe of Invulnerability!" Ferris's Abjurer opened with a spell that negated offensive magic below Tier 5. "Globe of Invulnerability!" Their opposing Abjurer responded in kind. "Wall of Pounamu!" Whetu did his part, creating a series of barrier shields that ensured they couldn't be bull rushed. In the next moment, a flood of buffs engendered on both sides. "Bless!" "Resist Elements!" "Shield of Faith!" "Stone Skin!" "Sanctuary!" "Death Ward!" "Aura of Life!" "Wall of Stone!" Chaos and anarchy erupted as protective spells of all types and elements flooded the room, dizzying even the most experienced of Diviners. "Ergh—" Gwen was a split second away from dropping a Flash Bang when she felt the premonition of something so terrible as to make her heart skip a beat. Beside her, Ferris seemed to have sensed the same thing. Alarmed, she looked toward the Master Diviner and saw Ferris' eyes widen in horror, her mouth moving to utter an indistinct warning. "Gwen—" Gwen gasped. She never heard the belated warning from Ferris. Every once of her consciousness was now focused upon the excruciating pain that promptly wracked her body. "Arrgh! Who—" Her instinctual cry broke mid-utterance, her breath catching in her throat so violently that her torso convulsed. She felt motes of shifting sand crawl underneath her armoured robes; construct her arms, legs, seizing her neck in the manner of a choker. Concurrently, the convulsive panic pushed the air from her lungs, turning her scarlet with asphyxiation. An irresistible force bent her spine and held her in place, helpless. The unexpected turn of events arrested the imminent mortal combat between the two parties. "Debora!" "Debbie?" "Gwen! No!" The ignited air surrounding Alesia deflated. Alesia was staring wide-eyed at Gwen, held captive by Debora's sand Spirit. Even now Alesia's disbelieving eyes were incapable of comprehending that her sister-in-craft had been captured, betrayed and made hostage. "Walken… you…" Ferris's face was blanched. Her gaze met the resolute eyes of the girl standing behind Gwen and shuddered. Debora was utterly impassive, showing no indication that she had just betrayed her closest friend, the girl she had professed to love and desire. Her expression was a mask of nothing, a tabula rasa devoid of emotions. When Gwen struggled, she tightened her spell, lifting Gwen from the ground. "I can't believe you fell for that twice," Debora articulated her triumph. Her voice was strange, sounding as though she had borrowed the vocal cords. "Good work! Ms Jones," From across the room, Walken congratulated the athletic Transmuter. "I knew that I could count on you!" The gathered crowd looked from Debora toward Walken and back again. "Debbie! No!" Elvia's utterance was a heartrending cry. How many times had they survived dangers together? How many nights had they trained, how many days and they spend in each other's company!? The girl had risked her life to defend them only a few hours ago! "Sheet!" Whetu cursed. His dark face flushed, the symmetry of his facial tattoos outlined by his livid face. "Debora, if you can even imagine surviving my wrath, you will let her go, right now," Alesia snarled, her the heat of quaking hellfire. "Bring her to me," Walken commanded delightfully. To the Magister's surprise, Debora did not hand Gwen over. Instead, she stood unmoving, as soon as she exited the Grot. "Now, now, like we agreed. I will protect you. You'll be a hero. I swear by my arcane soul." Walken's voice was seductive and resonant, full of soothing allure. Upon hearing Walken's promise, Yue's face became so full of fury that she looked ready to ignite where she stood. Opening her mouth to speak, she delivered her diatribe without reserve. "Debora, God help me if you don't let Gwen go right this minute. If you harm her, my life's sole purpose will revolve around ensuring that you suffer the greatest agony known to man or woman. Do you think you can make it as the Apprentice of this asshole? Think again, fucking bitch. Nothing is going to save you. You know what, even if you die before I am through, I am going to kill everyone you love. Your brothers, your sister, everyone you ever loved. You will rue the day you turned traitor. You can trust me on this. I swear by my arcane soul." Yue's words were so chilling that even the two Magisters felt their spine tingle. After that, the time grew dilated while the gathering anticipated Debora's next move. Walken persisted in imploring Debora to deliver Gwen to him while Alesia, Ferris, and the others waited for an opportunity to free Gwen from Debora's Sand Prison. "Don't try anything, especially you." Debora caught Alesia's subtle channel of Transmutation magic. Alesia felt her brows knit in frustration, when had the girl become so perceptive? She was at best a lacklustre Transmuter with limited innate talent. "Alesia," Ferris' voice bloomed beside her. She was using a line-of-sight variation of the Message spell. "Something is not right. My premonition senses are going haywire. That girl is stalling, and we must find out why. There is going to be great, imminent danger. My instincts are screaming for me to flee." Alesia growled. What could be more dangerous than their present circumstances? The Scarlet Sorceress' eyes measured every inch of Debora's form, searching for some clue as to what was sending Ferris's Divination into a frenzy. Alesia's gaze landed on a small, non-descript ring that Debora wore on her left hand. A ring. A standard accessory common to Mages sparkled. There were many kinds of rings. Storage Rings were standard, followed by Tracking Rings, ones that had teleportation beacons, given by Masters to their Apprentice so that they could escape imminent danger. Suddenly, watching Debora's fingers, a stray thought invaded Alesia's imagination, after which she was no longer capable of maintaining the meditative cadence of her breathing. The hot blood in her veins abruptly turned to ice. Circumstances and events converged within like a multi-vehicular accident. "No!" Alesia cried, her musky bloodthirst transforming into a hysterical panic. With a blast of flame, she Blinked into the Grot. Elvia, Yue and Whetu stared slack-jawed at the point where Alesia had been. What of Gwen? What if Debora made good on her threat? "You're too late," Debora announced flatly to the still flaming air. "There is nothing you can do. There is nothing any of you can do. Not anymore." Deep within the Grot, Henry Kilroy, Master of the Ten, Lord of the Ordo Arcanum Oceania, was stirred to wakefulness by a familiar scent of lilacs. For a moment, he had thought himself still sleeping amongst a pile of white sheets, the heat of the Tuscan sun beating down outside as a dry wind whispered through the Ottoman architraves. When he opened his eyes, however, the familiar sight of the heart-tree came into being. His head, however, rested not on wood, but on a pair of soft, white thighs, held in place by their supple curvature. A face came into view, breathlessly beautiful. Eyes as soft as a mellow summer's sky held him intact within their twin pupils. Wisps of bible-black hair tickled his nostrils. "Hey," Henry struggled to speak. "I wasn't expecting you here." "Hey." Elizabeth smiled, her small cherry lips parting with breathless desire. "I know we only just parted, but I missed you." For some reason, rather than fear, Henry felt free. He felt free that after all these years, they were back to square one. "You know," Henry began. "I often wondered if it would have been better if we had all died that day on the Brisbane Line. If you and I had perished, how many innocents lives could have been spared?" Elizabeth said nothing, for there was nothing more that needed to be said. She leaned forward and kissed Henry full on the mouth, her passionate tongue meeting his own. Her lithe white fingers wrapped around his skull and dug into his papery skin. Like so many years ago, like that fateful day on the Brisbane Line, Henry's wife allowed herself to let go. When the master of a summoned familiar perishes, all manifested phenomenon created by the magical being ceases to be. And it was with the fabled Grot - the unassailable bastion of Henry Kilroy, Master of the Tower. A symbol of power and stability, the domain of 'Deathless Henry' that had for three decades taken its residence atop the tallest spire of the Brutalist Tower. Just a moment prior, there was an ironwood portal, a shimmering gate, the distorted space of a pocket-dimension. Now, a second later, it was as though the Grot had never existed. Gwen was a tough woman, one not easily stirred to volatile emotions. She was a modern woman, one who believed in self-efficacy and the power of individual will to overcome all obstacles. None of that could help her now. Caught in the excruciating torture of her constrictive prison, Gwen sensed painful tears pour from her eyes. She had thought herself tutored in despair when the slavers had captured her, but she'd been woefully mistaken. Now, she felt genuine despair. Sloshing and churning, the feeling was sick and sinister and viscous, its malice dragging her into the suck of a dark sea. There was no Grot. There was no Henry. No Yue. No Elvia. No Whetu. No Alesia. Nothing. There was only the figure of a dark-haired woman, her blue eyes smiling with mirth, her red— red lips a dash of red paint upon a flawless complexion as pale as virgin snow.

"Elizabeth Sobel!" Walken's trembling voice echoed across the half-empty chamber. His usually narrow eyes bulged at their sockets. How was it even possible for her to be here? Walken felt the surety of his plan falling apart with each new revelation. No Mage can teleport into to the Tower without using an attunement key, much less into the confines of another Mage's pocket dimension. How was it possible that this Void Mage was able to overcome so many restrictions? The Magister's deliberations painfully re-aligned. The cataclysmic shift of circumstantial evidence unquestionably proved that unlike in his hypothesis, Gwen Song and Elizabeth Sobel were not Master and Apprentice. Urgent questions begged for knowledge he did not possess. Why was the Grot dispelled? Was Henry Kilroy deceased? How was the Void Mage not shunted away by the collapse of the pocket dimension? A multitude of enigmas plagued his mind, each an agonising seed of self-doubt. Walken's eyes fell upon Debora, beside which Gwen Song, the junior Void Mage, was held captive by a prison of sand. Jones was one who had come to him, citing that she'd bore witness to Kilroy's confession of harbouring and abetting a Void Mage conspiracy. He'd then worked with Debora in secret, going as far as to promise her an Apprenticeship in exchange for whatever memory he'd extract from her. With so much evidence at hand, he'd been confident that Gwen Song and Henry Kilroy was conspiring against the Tower's interests. Now, however, observing Debora's change in demeanour, Walken realised he'd seen that nervous look before; it was the look of a dog expecting admonishment from its Master. Such upset seethed in Walken's chest! He wanted nothing more than to have an hour alone with Debora in an isolation chamber, strapped to a chair while a Compel Truth enchantment stripped her mind. Perhaps, Walken thought regretfully. Mayhap, that should have been the first stop when she had first approached him. "Eric," a Message spell privately bloomed next to his ear. It was Irene Ferris, his fellow Magister whom he'd thought had made her bed with Kilroy. "Whatever is happening, we have to survive this. Even if Kilroy and de Botton are both gone, we cannot allow the Tower to fall into this woman's hands. At worst, I'd rather see the Tower burn than see it usurped." Walken's response was interrupted by the sight of Debora, who had been entirely passive the whole while, proceeding to present herself before Elizabeth Sobel. Debora moved, followed dangerously by the steel-like gaze of the gathered. She knelt upon one knee and supplicated before the Void Mage, bowing her head close to the ground as though she was exalting a deity. "Eric!" Sensing his hesitation; Ferris' voice took on a tone of desperate urgency. "Henry is gone, we're on the same side now! There's been a conspiracy, and you've been played. Eric, please. Don't go down this path any further, do what is best for you and the Tower, for the Faction!" Ferris' words struck Walken to the core of his being, momentarily draining the strength from his body. By now, he knew that the Master Diviner was right, his feud with de Botton and Kilroy had blinded his better judgement. The moment the Grot had disappeared, 'Deathless' Henry had died, sending his familiar back to whatever Black Zone he'd found her in. With the death of his old nemesis, Walken's ploy had perished like the animus of an abandoned Familiar. He had been so sure that Kilroy's ilk was the culprits behind the crisis, but now as it turned out, he was the monkey in the middle the whole damn while. Eric Walken, one of the Ten, chuckled bitterly. What a world of shit he'd found himself. With a silent thrum, one of his Ioun Stones activated. "Magus Fiore— shut down the Disruptor Engine and cancel the quarantine." Walken paused for a split-second, a moment of self-preservation fighting the necessity of action. "Inform Paladin Shultz that the Master of the Tower is dead, that we need his aid... and that once our enemy is abjured, I am at his mercy." "Yes, my Lord," The answer came swift and unquestioning. "Did you contact the Brisbane and Melbourne Towers?" Ferris pursued Walken carefully. "I did. Both are on the way." "When?" "Soon, I hope. While you stalled. I was stalling too." Ferris looked over at the figure of Elizabeth, so casually and confidently standing there as though they were transparent. Either the woman was insane, or she had nothing to fear. Ferris' premonition informed her that under the circumstances, it was the latter that applied. All they could do now was wait and hope. Hoping that with Gunther's imminent arrival, the three of them would be enough to hold out until the other Towers teleported in. Gwen gasped for air. With each renewed struggle, the sand prison seemed to constrain her in novel ways. Either magically compelled or by Debora's will, every attempt she made at summoning the energies of Lightning or Void resulted in a wracking agony that disrupted her mana channels. Under her eyes, Debora moved towards Elizabeth Sobel. With each inch the Transmuter closed in, Gwen felt a sliver of fear knotting her gut like a razor was scraping the insides of her abdomen. Was she now about to experience being consumed herself? Her scalp crawled. Gwen had devoured others before now, or at least Caliban had. Even as second-hand emphatic projections, the prospect haunted her dreams. From the corner of her eye, Gwen could see that Debora had bent the knee. The proud girl's head lowered itself to perform a shameful petition; it gave the impression of a child begging for forgiveness. Henry's wife seemed to possess no interest in Debora. Instead, she turned her terrifying attention towards Gwen, triggering a wave of nausea, draining the blood from her face. "What a lovely thing you are." Elizabeth's breath possessed a hint of lilac. Gwen felt goosebumps prickle her skin, painfully, her eyes following the path of Elizabeth's survey as they swept over her supple body, tracing the curve of her waist down to her white thighs. Satisfied with her inspection, Elizabeth placed a pale, dainty hand upon Gwen's forehead. To Gwen, it felt as though five icicles were stabbing into her skull. "So much potential. Such a waste," Elizabeth purred. "What did Henry see in you? A chance to redeem himself?" Gwen wanted to retort, to riposte her mocking insult. Though the words came easily, she found herself tongue-tied. Her Master was dead. What else is there to say? "Master," a voice emanated from below them. It was Debora; her head touched the floor. "You promised." Elizabeth laughed, a thrilling trill that echoed through the chamber like silvery bells. "Of course, my child. So I have." Her tone was kind and generous. "You have truly outdone yourself this time. What kind of Master would I be, if I could not even grant such a simple boon?" Gwen groaned; breathing fire was an extravagance when compared to the torturous sensation emitted by Elizabeth's icy fingers. "Some privacy, perhaps?" Elizabeth intoned. Debora said nothing, merely silently pressing her temple against the floor. "Very well then, I expect great things from you when you return." Seemingly satisfied with Debora's supplication, Elizabeth expertly uttered an incantation. "Portal." Gwen felt yet another jolt of shrieking premonition sending slivers of shivery frost up her spine. She watched helplessly as an orb appeared beside her head, rapidly expanding to encompass her body. As the inky darkness touched her skin, she felt enveloped in something viscous and expansive, like dipping one's feet into a vat of oil. She opened her mouth to shout and yell when the darkness finally reached her face, but in the deep dark of the bible-black Void, who would hear her scream? Walken and Ferris flinched as Gwen and Debora became enveloped in a lightless orb darker than black. When it rapidly shrunk with an audible "Pop", the duo was gone, leaving behind a smooth concavity in the stonework that looked as though it had been carved out by master stonemasons. Next, Elizabeth turned her attention towards them, her baby-blue eyes reserved and serene. "Well, have you seen enough?" Elizabeth's alluring, youthful face betrayed her aura, a nauseating wave of violence and slaughter that ripped from her like rising tidal water. "Are you ready to meet your maker?" "Back, fiend!" Walken ignored Elizabeth's goading. Instead, he forced his breathing to reach the optimum meditative cadence for mana retention. The Void bitch had one thing right. Walken was ready. "Mages, fire at will!" "Shatter!" "Water Bolt!" "Fire Bolt!" "Scorching ray!" "Magic Missiles!" Though the volume of spells that filled the air was impressive, the vast majority of the cover fire was generated by junior Mages with low-tier incantations. A scarce few of the volleys were from the Maguses, who each manifested their most offensive and destructive spells. "Fireball!" "Minute meteors!" "Stone Strike!" "Flame Arrow!" "Air Blast!" Elizabeth didn't even wince. A dark egg enveloped her; the surface of her Void Shield was absorbing each spell, their effect causing nought but ripples as the magic gluttonously devoured the devastating assault. Shielded by the pyrotechnical display, Walken produced a miniature mithril model maze with a snap of his wrist. He began to draw the Sigils for an incredibly elaborate containment spell. It took close to ten seconds for the complicated magic to manifest, the effort causing a sheen of sweat to permeate Walken's face. With a triumphant roar, Walken executed his trump card. "Maze!" Both of Walken's hands pressed together upon the mithril-forged miniature, feeling the component crumple to silvery dust as the spell manifested. It was a fail-safe he'd prepared for Kilroy, fully expecting the Magister to resist his accusations until the bitter end. As his magic manifested, an invisible portal enclosed the dark egg, containing it within the space of a Demi-plane used to entrap difficult foes. Once Elizabeth was imprisoned, Walken could keep her penned for days, until either she found a way to escape the spell, or until he was out of mana. By then, with any luck, their allies would have arrived. No matter how powerful Elizabeth may appear to be, there was no way she could stand up to the might of Gunther, the Tower's Paladin, Lin, the Grey Faction's only Combat Magister, as well as Uther, the Battlemaster of the Warring Faction. "It's working!" Ferris muttered with evident relief. She had readied an action to cast her most potent spell - it appeared her involvement was no longer necessary. "No, she's resisting me!" Walken grunted in alarm. "She's draining the spell force somehow! How is this even possible?! Mages! Cease your attacks now!" Ferris cursed and redoubled her concentration, compelling her spell to once again manifest. 'Crack!' A fracture fissured the invisible air, tearing time and space. As the Maze spell collapsed, a flood of Void mana poured from the dark egg. A viscous ooze began to drip from its surface, pitter-pattering onto the floor to form into hundreds of writhing lampreys in obsidian. "Shit! That's what it was doing!" Walken realised too late. "A Spell Eater!" Within a second of their aberrant birth, the creatures seemed to sense the group of Mages firing upon them and began to leap, crawl, slither and jump towards them like a dark, ominous tide. "Fuck!" "Shit, what the hell are those things?" "Oh, Gods!" "Aeee!" "Kill it!" "Flaming Hand!" "Blizzard!" Panic overruled the Tower Mages' better judgement. The majority of them were acolytes untested by the horror of mortal combat. The Maguses and the Veterans instinctively instructed the junior to retreat as the dark tide approached. Ferris' eyes swelled with disgust and horror. She'd been holding a Power Word Pain, but with Elizabeth sheltered within her Egg, there was nought she could do in the circumstance. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Wall of Magma!" It was Julia, her protege from Rosebay, who had acted first, shielding her companions and Magister Ferris with a wave of her hand. The glowering walls of fire and molten stone sliced the torrent of darkly crawling worms in half, broiling them as they blindly sought passage. "Good work Julia!" "Magister! We need to retreat!" "Walken! What's the plan?" Walken measured their dire circumstance with a withering look. "Retreat and regroup! Detach the platform! Don't let those things touch you!" The Mages erected barriers and shields as they retreated. Even so, some of them had been too slow for the tidal swarm that now covered the floor and ceilings, a milling mass of wiggling darkness that contrasted sickeningly against the sterile white walls. A zealous Abjurer who'd been shielding his Evoker companion became smothered by a ball of the dark worms that fell from the ceiling. His face of disgust quickly transformed into one of unmitigated horror. Like a gutted pig, the man screamed and screamed while the worms dug into his flesh, slithering wetly under his skin. "AARRRRrgheeeee!" The emanated cry was inhuman. Within a few horrid seconds, the Abjurer collapsed upon the floor, the dark worms bursting from the sockets of his eyes and birthing anew from his desiccated, wilting flesh. Another Mage, a Transmuter who had found himself engulfed, howled with horror as the worms entered him. "No! Master! Save me!" Walken fired off a volatile blast of air, the acolyte's head exploded like a crushed melon. "To the Platform!" He commanded the survivors, "Jump! Feather Fall if you have to!" He cursed the excessive security of the Mage Tower. For the protection of its inhabitants, the Tower had been made so that intra-teleportation within it was impossible. Instead, translocation was accomplished through Teleportation Circles that formed an intra-net within the Tower's infrastructure. Likewise, though Levitation and Feather Fall was unrestricted, Flight and other means of aerial locomotion were severely limited within the Tower's airspace, both internally and externally. Where they were, Henry's Grot rested atop a tubular that extended until it reached the zenith of the Tower's highest battlement. It was accessed by a slow-moving levitation platform that ensured there would be 'no surprises' awaiting the Magister in the event of an invasion. Usually, the Magister teleported into and from the Tower by using a Circle located at the platform's base station. Now, they were sitting ducks. Slowly, the disk descended. Even so, the lamprey worms fell from the platform in the hundreds, they did not fade or dissipate. From the greasy motes of Conjuration mana that emitted from these creatures, Walken woefully acknowledged these must be Elizabeth's "Familiar". Though exceedingly rare, it's not unheard of for Mages to acquire hive-mind familiars. It was a matter of affinity, as the concentration and mana required for such a summon were impossible for all but the most talented of Conjurers. What frightened Walken was that the Void woman could form a near-invulnerable Abjuration shield while co-currently manifesting hundred and thousands of the lamprey worms. Just how the hell were they supposed to defeat an enemy like that? Abjuration, Evocation, and Conjuration, Walken prayed that these schools were all Elizabeth had mastered, for they were already outclassed and outmatched. Had the manuscripts not expressly stated that Void Casters were glass cannons, heavily limited by the drain upon their vitality? Why was this Elizabeth unperturbed by the effects of Negative Energy drain? "Sir! The platform is overloading!" The levitating disk was not designed to hold three dozen Mages at once. Its magic groaned and spluttered as the terrified casters piled onto the metal platform, forcing it to list dangerously. "Sir! Look out!" an acolyte cried out. Walken's Ring of Evasion activated, aiding his movement as he dived from the edge of the platform onto the disk, narrowly avoiding a clump of the worms that had sought to satisfy their insatiable hunger. "Couatl!" A flash of brilliant silvery mana manifested a Winged Serpent fully three meters tall, almost filling the chamber from the ceiling to the descending levitating platform. Its wings were a splay of changing hues, multi-coloured and resplendent. Its draconic head opened its maw to reveal a row of razor-sharp teeth laid end to end like a line of glinting daggers. "Lightning Breath!" The celestial pseudo-Dragon distended its jaw and let loose a line of electricity that expanded as it travelled through the mass of darkness, clearing a blighted path that penetrated the swarm until it struck Elizabeth's dark egg. To his surprise, rather than the expectant, all-consuming ripple, the line of electricity struck the Void shield as though it were a solid object, fracturing its fragile shell as the explosive energy ravaged its surface. "Lightning! It's vulnerable to Lightning!" Walken shouted jubilantly to the others. They needed a Lightning Mage! His thoughts exalted until it rested upon Gwen Song, following which Walken cursed vehemently under his breath. Was that why the Void woman had stolen Gwen Song away? Another stray thought struck Walken's fancy. Had Henry Kilroy been cultivating Gwen Song not for her Void abilities, but for her Lightning? Had the old man foreseen this day and knew the importance of having Elemental Lightning at their disposal? Walken's epiphanic thoughts were interrupted by a wave of malice emanating from within the now shattered egg, a sliver of darkness, too quick for his eyes to follow, shot from the shadows. Before Walken could even react, his chest exploded. Empathic pain from his familiar engulfed him. Walken forced himself to concentrate; his eyes caught the horrific sight of his Couatl; pinned to the white walls by a dark blade a full three meters in length. Presently, the vorpal sword had penetrated the armour of the pseudo-dragon easily, cutting a dark gash from its navel to the chest. Dark, draconic blood painted the surrounding stones, showering the Mages below in a crimson rain. "Aella!" Walken urged his familiar to dematerialise. Unexpectedly, he felt rapid fatigue coming on, preventing his command from reaching his summoned companion. A sudden sense of vertigo and exhaustion indicated that he had been negatively drained. Desperately, Walken redoubled his efforts to retract his contracted beast into the safety of its pocket dimension. The Couatl finally relented after an excruciating eternity, dissipating into loose motes of quicksilver conjuration mana. "We don't have any acolytes with Lightning," Ferris announced miserably after a quick headcount. "Gwen Song was the only one. Prince's and Riverview has a few, but I doubt they'd loan us their kids for a suicide mission. Chances are they've already evacuated inland." Walken felt at his wit's end. "Master!" A chorus of voices called out in alarm. Walken and Ferris looked up from their platform to see a tide of darkness descending upon them. The worm-swarm and reached critical mass and was now a roving, unstoppable expanse that cascaded toward them like an oil spill. Behind the swarm, whipping the barb-tongued lampreys forward into a feeding frenzy, was Elizabeth, her white skin smothered with bloated, leech-like creatures that pulsed with unholy vitality. She had an expression that implied she was curious as to what they would do; like a cat watching mice at play. Walken's face turned pale. His voice, however, took on a sterner tenor. "I am going to stall them with Reverse Gravity," he announced fatalistically. "Disable the platform and free fall to the bottom, find Gunther and inform the others. Tell them. Tell them I was wrong." "Eric…" "Hey, I don't plan on dying here." Walken flashed a contingency ring on his finger. "You don't think she can kill me within a split second, do you?" WHOOMP— TSSSSSS! Before Ferris could respond, a blast of light so bright as to burn a white shadow within their disbelieving retinas penetrated the walls of the levitation passage. With a deafening screech, the lamprey creatures burned and sizzled until they withered to motes of void dust, becoming harmless specks that quickly faded into nothingness. From a still smouldering passage came a radiant figure whose aura filled all present space. Gunther Shultz's robe was ripped and torn, his face caked with mud and blood, but none of that seemed to detract from his Demi-god presence. "Eric Walken, this is not the place for you to die," the Paladin announced grimly, his resonate voice like the voice of Metatron. "You must survive; for after the Master's murderer lays dead and buried, you will face me." Ferris' was so glad to see the Paladin that she seemed ready to burst into a cry of jubilation. A roar of ragged cheers broke from the surviving Mages, hollering Gunther's name as the tide of darkness receded to the top of the platform and dared not venture closer. From below, they could see the shadowy, silhouetted form of Elizabeth regarding them coldly from her vantage point, the whiteness of her pale skin juxtaposed against the sea of writhing shadow that smothered every surface. Walken himself was beset by every emotion. "As you wish, Paladin," he declared with a bitter smile upon his lips. "So long as the Tower is safe, I am yours to do as you see fit." Gwen welcomed the cold, hard, rocky gravel. She had landed awkwardly, uncertain of her footings until she was already falling. Her journey through the muted vacuum of the Void had taught her to treasure each mote of light. It was as Joni Mitchell had sung, that one didn't know what one had until it was gone. She was beginning to understand why Caliban desperately desired to be manifested in the material realm. The Void was a place of nothing, no sound, no light, no presence; it was like existing within a vacuum. For having spent even a micron of a split second within that dreadful place, Gwen felt diminished, lessened, curtailed in proportion. When she tried to stand, the sand prison that had bound her contracted, once again sending her into a convulsive fit. The pain brought back the urgency of her most recent memories. Her Master! Her mentor! Her saviour! The wizened old Magister simply wanted to repent, to find the goodness that his wife had taken from him so long ago, he had told Gwen that she was his redemption! She was going to be his Apprentice, inherit his legacy! And Alesia. And Yue. And Elvia. Even Whetu. Gwen couldn't believe that they were just… gone. With a vicious sense of self-abandonment, she pulled at her constraints, feeling the sand digging into her skin, cutting into her sinews, abrasively biting into her pale flesh as she thrashed. The agony that had so paralysed her before was no obstacle to her desire to lash out, to escape her bondage so that she could visit terrible vengeance against Debora. "Gwen, you'll hurt yourself." A worried voice intoned huskily beside her. Her dishevelled face, half-covered by her chaotic, blood-matted hair, looked up to see the very object of her fury standing no more than a few meters away! "I'll fucking kill you!" Gwen cried out, her speech hoarse with rage. Her comely face was a mask of distorted fury, her eyes two glowing orbs of swirling darkness. Motes of Void matter coursed through her body, feeding off her emotions. "Caliban!" The netherworld serpent slinked into existence beside Gwen, its serpentine body growing thick and muscular as it gluttonously fed off Gwen's life-force. "Fuck her up!" Gwen commanded, forcing herself through the pain of the sand prison's constraint. "Tear her apart!" "Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban rapidly expanded in size. It coiled its body and launched itself towards Debora, its lamprey's mouth overflowing with grey, globular saliva. "Banish!" With a singular incantation from Debora, Caliban dematerialised, becoming dormant in his pocket dimension. Gwen reeled, barely capable of breathing. "Don't summon Caliban again," Debora advised Gwen with a face full of concern, a look that enraged her further. "You're already hurt." With a violent tug, Gwen was launched backwards, falling onto her buttocks as the sand reshaped itself to restrain her. With Caliban having taken its pound of flesh from her already weakened vitality, she felt no longer capable of wrestling the pull of the shifting sand. In a moment, her face now faced upwards, staring into the liquid, amber eyes of Debora, gazing down upon her with the same expression she had that night in the desert; when Gwen had gifted her with the very spirit that she now used to keep her prisoner. "Debora," Gwen forced the words from her throat, half choked with fury, half-blinded with teeth-grating rage. "Why?" It wasn't a question asked out of despair or spite. It was a genuine enquiry as to why someone Gwen had thought a friend and an ally, a confidant with whom she'd spent almost year of her life, would turn upon her so viciously and without reason. Was it because she had refused Debora's advances? That was absurd. Gwen couldn't even consider that possibility. If so, then why had Debora betrayed them? Was it as Walken had said, that Debora wanted to win his favour, to become his Apprentice? That made no sense either because she saw Debora kneeling before Elizabeth as a willing sycophant. Was Debora perhaps glamoured? Was she still dominated from that time in the forest, during the Field Trip? That was another baseless conjecture, no spell lasted that long, and even if it had, how could it have escaped Henry, Alesia, Gunther, and the myriads of detection spells active within the Tower's confines? Debora no longer had that expression of servitude which she'd retained when standing before Elizabeth. Her face was now alive with emotion, so mixed as to be unreadable, changing with each passing second, alternating between tribulation and triumph. "Why?" Debora said in that husky voice of hers. "It's because I need you, Gwen." The absurd answer compelled Gwen to pull at her restraints haplessly. The collar around her neck, however, had been loosened enough so that she could speak. Turning her neck, Gwen seized the opportunity to take in her surroundings. A distant building loomed with intimate familiarity. A Cathedral that was now battered and dilapidated, its precious stained glass shattered by the stress of combat. Had the rest of the Rosebay girls escaped to safety? Were they still holed up in the catacombs? Given better circumstances, Gwen's Samaritan mind would have lingered upon those poor girls whose uncertain futures haunted her. Nonetheless, her immediate crisis loomed in the shape of a psychotic Debora Jones. "Don't be absurd, Debora," Gwen spoke with an edge of frost. Now that she was taken far away from the Tower, from the pressure of those all-powerful presences vying for dominance, she could once again hear herself think. All she needed was an opportunity, and she could turn the situation around. "If you love me so much, then why did you betray me?" "It was the only way to save you," Debora replied. Gwen swallowed. The two girls exchanged a measured look, Debora's eyes were patient, while Gwen's alternated between disbelief, vexation, and exasperation. "No. I want the truth, Debora. If you're going to kill me, at least tell me the truth." "I don't want to kill you, Gwen. I want you alive and well." "What does that even mean!?" Gwen uttered in frustration. "Who are you, Debora Jones? What are you even after?" "I just wanted you, Gwen. Nothing else." "Shut up!" Gwen was howling now, Debora's tomfoolery was boiling her already risen blood. Her head felt swollen and nauseated, her cheeks flushed salmon-pink. "Don't try to play coy with me! Do you seriously expect me to believe that you did all of this because of jealousy? Because of some green-eyed monster?!" Debora would not understand the reference, but Gwen didn't care. "Tell me the truth! If you're going to do your worst, at least give me the mercy of knowledge. I want to know why I died." "The truth?" "The truth," Gwen huffed breathlessly. "Alright,' Debora replied. "The truth." Debora's flesh began to change and shift, her mien becoming indistinct, as like the shift of uncertain colour caught between hues. A distinct swirl of Void mana flowed over her skin like dark ink. Gwen watched with abject horror, her once livid face now blank and agog. Debora ceased to be, replaced instead by a 'face' that was androgynous, white and hideous, whose pale, sunken cheeks were the likeness of weatherworn quattrocento statues. He, she, or it - had a long, asymmetrical face that was small and sharply structured, with high cheekbones and large oval eyes that gave her an impression of an ethereal, otherworldly presence. The nose especially was short, squat and half-formed. Where Debora had a figure that was athletic and full-figured, this creature was anorexic and hollow-cheeked. Debora's enchanted earthen robes resized slowly, tightening until it encompassed her new form. "What are you?" "My mother calls me the Faceless one," Faceless replied without a particular inflexion to her tone. There was no gender that Gwen could discern, not that the circumstances could have compelled her to ask such a trivial question. For the moment, that Faceless had been Debora, and thus was a girl, should suffice. "Your mother?" Gwen inquired, though she had an inkling as to whom the creature's progenitor may be. "Yes, the woman you call Elizabeth." "That means…" "Indeed." Faceless smiled weakly, revealing broken, twisted teeth that were filthy and yellowing. "My mother had just taken my father's life." "That's… impossible," Gwen mouthed, her mind in such shock that she had even ceased struggling. "Henry said Elizabeth had a miscarriage." "So she did," Faceless affirmed. Her grey pupils were two disks of milky cataracts. "When you traffic in the element of consumption, your body no longer becomes capable of bearing life." Gwen felt her breath catch in her throat. The implications of what Faceless had just told her struck her like a bolt from the blue. It wasn't something she'd considered before, even in her previous life, but the opportunity had always been something she'd taken for granted. "Then how are you…" "I'd be happy to tell it." Faceless replied, "but first, I want to make you an offer." Gwen gazed upon Faceless' malformed mien, though her mind was a chaotic mess, a sliver of clarity escaped the crisis. Now that the moment of fevered rage had passed, she felt the coolness collection of rationality again suffuse her thoughts. She may be trapped and helpless, but it was clear that Faceless wanted something from her that required her cooperation. Her mind raced. When the present gave no alternatives, then the only option was to stall; for opportunities only died when one ceases to hope.

"Fine." Gwen spat vehemently. "I'll hear you out, but first— answer my questions." Faceless nodded with a mannerism Gwen was used to seeing in Debora's face. In contrast to her now alien appearance, the effect was extremely unsettling. "Where's Debora? The real Debora, I mean." Faceless pointed to her chest. "If you mean her body, her morphic form, she's in here," she paused and looked Gwen in the eyes delicately. "If you mean the girl you had known. She is gone." Gwen had anticipated as much. But even so, the confirmation caused a distressing contraction in her chest; made worse by the fact that she couldn't move her limbs or stretch her torso. "When?" "When do you suppose?" Faceless returned Gwen's inquiry with a question of her own. Gwen searched through her memories of Debora. "During the training?" "Earlier." "Before our time in the desert?" Gwen intoned bitterly. Those were happy memories. It was in the desert that Debora tried to kiss her. The very reminiscence that it could have been Faceless the whole while shook Gwen to her very core. "Yes, before that." Gwen instantly felt ill. She suppressed the acid reflux in her oesophagus, then took a moment to temper her riotous emotions. So, it wasn't Debora who'd kissed her. It wasn't Debora who'd invited her to bed. It was this thing— this creature all along. All memories of Debora exorcised from her mind, all the times they ate together, laughed and joked, jogged around the school. All those memories, now mutilated by Faceless' confession. Where she'd thought kindly of Debora's cheerful face, Gwen now felt repulsive revulsion and repugnance with every recollection. Stun by the memories, she dug through the events of the yesteryear and found the precise, disastrous moment. In hindsight, it was so glaringly obvious; the incident stood out like a red, weeping sore. "During the Field Trip, when you returned to us, in the bunker. You apologised, and I was surprised that you had a sudden change of heart." Faceless smiled. "Bingo." Gwen had to take another breather to process Faceless' confession. Lowering her head, she watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, breathing in and out. "What were you doing there? Were you already Debora when Edgar found us?" "I was." "You were pretending to be Dominated? He'd cast a spell on you." "Edgar didn't know, but yes, I was pretending. I've seen it done many times before. It wasn't difficult to act the part." "But he injured Debora! He drained her life!" "He certainly didn't hold back. If he'd gone too far, I was going to tell him, but then that would have ruined my plans." "Your plans?" "Yes, one that far exceeds Edgar's mad dog antics," Faceless' expression was difficult to read. "Though I was Edgar's partner, my ultimate role, was to infiltrate Henry's inner circle, to uncover my father's habits, his schedules, his likes and dislikes, his moments of strength and weakness." Faceless's face began to change again, becoming a middle-aged man with a greying beard. Her voice became deeper until it transformed into the baritone of a man. "I was Alesia's Tower liaison first; I'd assumed control of this body and was using Alesia to try and penetrate Henry's faction. I'd leak her information from the other Factions, the deals that the Grey Faction was making, the experiments carried out by the Militant Faction." "There was a problem, though. Alesia herself never thought of myself as a member she could trust or value, and thus the doors to the inner circle had always been closed to me. I suppose that even though she was so simple-minded, she instinctively knew not to trust a turncoat, especially one that professed their undying loyalty." "Why Debbie?" Gwen demanded bitterly. "She had nothing to do with Master. She had nothing to do with any of this." "It was a whim at first," Faceless replied with a tone that smacked of nostalgia. "I found her in the woods, wandering and clueless. She was an uncommonly comely girl, and I liked to collect spare forms. As a polymorphic shapeshifter, one never knew when a form would become useful." "That's it?" Gwen's voice cracked a little. "She died on a whim?" Faceless was relentless. "Yes. People have died for lesser reasons. What makes Debora special?" "Then what? You came sauntering back into camp?" "I did. You may be pleased to know that in Debora's final moments, her thoughts were of her family, and you." "Me?" "Yes, the old Debora possessed powerful feelings for you, even if they were ambivalent. Feelings that I inherited when I took her body." "How does that even work?" Gwen questioned angrily. "That's not how Polymorph functions!" "Yet for you and I, that's exactly how it works." Faceless raised a hand to pull at his or her face. A film of darkened void energy began to emerge, dissolving the face's physical form until he became a dark and indistinct silhouette. The dark mound of flesh that was Faceless' mien changed shape as the density of her body became fuller, taller, more toned and shapely— becoming one again, Debora. Debora with her bright, amber eyes full of life. Debora with her bronze, youthful limbs, sweaty after an uphill sprint. Debora, with her vivacious passion, with every emotion written on her face. "Let's talk like this," Faceless continued in Debora's voice. "I am not… fond of my original body, I am uncomfortable, in my skin." The fiend recounted their earlier topic and continued. "My Polymorphy is a condition of the body, unique to my Void Magic. If you are willing, I'd be happy to teach it to you. Imagine it, Gwen, you could be anyone you want to be." "So you're a body thief," Gwen accused the pseudo-Debora. "Something like that. If you must know, I was far more interested initially in your body." Gwen felt her skin crawl. "Why the surprise? Think of it, Gwen, you were the perfect candidate. A dark horse with no background, no allies, no Faction and no House, a tabula rasa! You were perfect as an instrument for infiltration. You had prodigious talent, you had caught the eye of Alesia de Botton, and you had virtually no friends apart from that Healer and the Fire Mage." Gwen chose not to meet Faceless' eyes as her cadence became more pronounced and excited. "If I could have gotten some time alone with you in the confusion of Edgar's ploy, then…" "That's enough…" Gwen muttered. "Why did you stop?" "As I said, I had inherited many of Debora's strongest memories and emotions. The girl was obsessed, and through Debbie, I found something that I had not felt myself, not in all the years that I'd taken the faces of others. I found myself deeply interested, Gwen Song. Your vivacity, your lust for life, your intelligence and your whimsical speeches. Most of all, when I saw what you did to Edgar in that cave, I realised something." "What was that?" "We were meant to be." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "You disgust me." Faceless chuckled. "Ha! How many Void casters do you think exist in this world? Mother was one; I, another. I had never seen others. Could you try to understand, even for a second, what it's like to know that you're different, a loner, a singular existence, forever alone - then suddenly, you find someone who is just like you?" "We're not the same!" Gwen snapped. "Oh, but we are." Faceless grinned sickly. "Did you not enjoy Caliban's powers? His meals giving you the ability to be Abjurer, Diviner, Evoker and Conjurer? Did you not feel that unmitigated hunger that could find no nourishment in nature? Do we not share a world where our secrets could never see the light, shareable only with one another." "That's not true!" Gwen spat. "I never asked for this!" The retort seemed to anger Faceless. The fiend's face grew distorted and loathful. "You think I asked for this?!" Faceless howled at Gwen. Her face was a mask of pain and fury. "You think I wanted to be born like this!?" Her form shifted again, this time reconstructing her entire body into the darkness of the Void, consuming the elemental garb Debora had been wearing. When her body once again materialised, she was stark naked. Gwen saw a figure mangled with scar tissues, its flesh pallid and grey. Faceless' anorexic, malformed body compelled Gwen to shudder, for one limb was longer than the other, its stem gangly and bat-like. When her gaze fell upon Faceless' chest, there was a slight swelling that indicated aborted puberty; when her eyes fell lower, she saw nought but an indistinct mess of ambiguous flesh. "Life does not take when surrounded by so much death— when prolonged to the Void." Faceless ran a finger down her chest, down to her belly button, where a small length of knotted flesh had welted over. "My mother certainly didn't think I'd survive, though thanks to her boundless curiosity for testing the limitations of her consumption ability, I'd acquired life through the unwilling sacrifices of others." "Gwen," Faceless asked mercilessly. "Do you think I asked for this?" Gwen's first instinct was to apologise and say that she was sorry, but the impulse caught in her throat. Faceless was the murderer of her friends and her Master! Gwen couldn't summon the empathy to feel an ounce of sorrow for the aberrant being. Faceless resumed Debora's form, though now she was stark naked. The sight was such mockery, for it reminded Gwen of that precarious night in Surya's country estate. "Now, are you ready to hear my offer?" Gwen subtly strained against her bindings. They were still well secured, but as Faceless grew emotional with each new diatribe, she could feel them loosening and tightening. Should she listen? Gwen wondered. She didn't have a choice, did she? "Tell me, how did you turn Walken? Why does he think that you're on his side?" Faceless crossed Debora's arms across her chest. "When you and I returned to school, I sought opportunities to get closer to you. Why do you think we kept meeting one another on our morning jogs? I knew that you would have taken that route." Faceless' cadence resumed its hypnotic drone once she became absorbed in the telling of their history. She could see from Debora's face that the shapeshifter had truly enjoyed, even cherished, those memories. She spoke of her experiences as Debora as truly her own, not the stolen moments of a body snatcher. "At any rate, I needed to get closer to you somehow. If I couldn't kill you, then I must somehow get closer to you using the identity of this girl. The original Debora was such a hapless, untalented Transmuter, a waste of her affinity. She was a brute, lacking the finesse required for high-tier Transmutation." "At any rate, I supplemented her Transmutation abilities and managed to get Barlett to secure work experience under a particularly 'renowned' but seedy Transmuter." "My grandfather," Gwen replied. If there was a single silver lining to the Mermen invasion, it was that the inland areas were entirely unaffected. Whatever happened to the coast, Surya and his apprentices would be safe to evacuate at their leisure. "Indeed, I became a good student under Master Surya, though I must say, your grandfather was awful handsy." Gwen did not find the humour in Faceless' jocular jab of her Opa. "When we received news of the whole Mark Chandler ordeal, I volunteered, citing falsely to your grandfather what close chums we'd been at school. The old man was beyond pleased with our relationship, didn't even give a second thought to bringing me to comfort you." "Then, to my surprise, and mortification - I met my target. I was finally in the same room as Henry Kilroy— my damned father." Gwen recalled the day and felt such regret pressing down upon her conscience. "To meet my father for the first time… I couldn't take my eyes off him. I stared at him, you know, dreaming of what could have been. He was so kind to you, Gwen, so full of love and support, all the things that I'd never received from Mother." "So that's why I propose that we share another bond, Gwen. It is too late for me, but through you, I could vicariously live the life I always wanted. A life of being pampered and guided by a father who'd expected great things from me." "You're sick," Gwen retorted, but her riposte was without venom. The recollection of Henry's kindness struck her with sorrows that cut to the bone. "After we left Chandlers, I sent a Message with a lumen recording to Walken. Then after that, we had spent our wonderful summer together. When we kissed…" "Shut up!" Gwen interjected. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Faceless waited until Gwen could recollect herself. "Mother had been feeding him information for some time now, snippets of information here and there, that would turn him against Henry. Even the exchange he had suffered from Alesia de Botton a few years ago was our doing." "When I returned to the Tower next, I sought out Walken in person. In exchange for his promise to elevate my position, to sponsor me for a scholarship at the Arcanum of Sydney, he placed me in a Truth chamber, where he 'verified' certain parts of my memory. He was an Enchanter, you know, but his methods lacked finesse. When the man was satisfied, he sent me away, tasked with gathering more evidence, and that was when you'd invited us to go on your Outback adventure." "To digress a little, you know what was funny?" Faceless asked. "What?" Gwen tested the restraints again. "Of all the times, it was when you were doing that sweat-drenched nude dance with those filth Indigenous folks that I was truly in danger. Since I was Edgar's partner during that incident, that damned snake knew who I was the instant it manifested in you. Remember that bolt of power you shot at the tent? I knew it was coming. I had to set up a decoy and blink into the river! Thank God the serpent was a primordial simpleton, else it could have told you the truth." Almudj! Gwen's mind blazed with renewed hope. The Rainbow Serpent! If what Faceless said was true, then surely Almudj would come to her rescue. If she could tap into the scale— Gwen felt a sudden, sinking feeling. Where was the scale? She had placed it on Henry to help him heal. With the Grot evaporated into thin air, so had her scale. Once more, cold despair wash over Gwen's shivering body. "As for the rest, it was easy. I kept feeding Walken bits and piece of maligned information taken from my memory - either work I had done with Edgar or work I'd performed for mother. Together with Henry's steadfast support, Walken had been fully convinced that you were a family of Void Mages treating the Tower like your demesne, its people like cattle." "The rest, you should be able to figure out yourself. Walken had messaged me, telling me to take you into custody. I'd done so, but it wasn't for his benefit." "How did Elizabeth get into the Grot?" "I shared Ferris' Glyph with Mother," Faceless shrugged, suggesting that much should be obvious. "I learned the key when Ferris gave it to Paul. It was a complex Glyph— but hardly an octogramic mandala. As for the Grot, so long as Sufina is dormant, it isn't capable of rejecting intruders, at least not ones who are friendly to the Grot's 'inhabitants'." "So that's the long and short of it," Gwen said finally. "Indeed." Though they had conversed for some time, no one had appeared to accost them; no wandering soul had been shocked to find a stark-naked girl standing over another, bound wrist and ankle tied by a prison of sand. Gwen was hoping that at the very least, there would be Mermen present to distract Faceless. "Are you ready to listen to my offer?" Faceless asked, her voice now edged with impatience. "There's only so much time before mother finishes the Mages up there." "Go on." "I want us to be partners." "Impossible!" The very thought was aberrant. "Shut up, listen, and don't interrupt me." Faceless tightened the sand around Gwen, cutting off her protest. "Gwen, you have a talent that few can boast of possessing. You may not truly know it, but only Void can truly defend against Void. With your abilities, you could one day stand up to even Mother, assuming you're given the time to grow." "Furthermore, you even have the impossible boon of possessing Lightning, the very element that opposes, and indeed dispels, spells of the Void." "This means that if you were to survive this ordeal, you could one day become someone who even mother will fear. In a duel of power, she wouldn't be able to penetrate your Abjuration Shields, but you can fracture her defences with Lightning. Do you understand what I am telling you?" Gwen nodded despite herself. Once again, her position and circumstance had become uncertain. "For that, I am willing to spare your life. I am offering myself to become your protector, your shield against mother's wrath until you can take her down, freeing the both of us." Faceless' offer made sense, but Gwen felt all the unwillingness in the world assail her. "I…" The words caught in her throat. She wanted to tell Faceless to go and fuck herself, that as Yue had promised, she was going to make Faceless feel pain and suffering in a way that the aberrant being couldn't even begin to imagine. Yet, Gwen was no saint. She wanted to live. How much had Gwen endured since coming to this world? How could she just let it end here? What if she said yes? The very notion was sickening to her. The faces of her friends and family flashed before her eyes. Yue— whose animated china-doll face was forever mirthful and burning with passion. Elvia— whose very presence was an angel that was a balm for her soul. Alesia— whose fiery temper and desire for justice burned as hot as her scarlet flame. Henry— whose kind eyes and old hands guided her every step in this alien world. No. She couldn't possibly agree. Sometimes, death was preferable to cowardice. Sometimes, the line had to be drawn, this far, and no further. "I refuse—" Just as Gwen sought to deliver her ultimatum, a ripple of nauseating energy expanded like a concentric ring from above. An explosion sundered the heavens, interrupting their moment of truth. The Tower, which had been invisible some half an hour ago, became suddenly visible, hanging languishingly above in the blue yonder. A bellowing dust cloud erupted from its tallest Tower, sending down cascading pieces of stone the size of skyscrapers. Something began to materialise atop the fallen spire. A dark sun. A black hole was sucking in all light, with thick tendrils of void-matter that lashed out as though they were alive. Faceless turned to Gwen, her face no longer patient and willing. "Make the decision now," she snarled at her. "What'll it be, Gwen Song?" Gwen met her enemy vis-a-vis, her ochre-hazel eyes glowing with concentric rings of electric blue. "Fuck your offer," she spat. "Do your worst." To Gwen's surprise, Debora's face lost all emotion. "Fine, have it your way." Debora's likeness melted away as Faceless once again turned black and ambiguous, taking on the property of the indistinct Void. The creature lowered its face toward Gwen's, as if ready to deliver a full-mouthed kiss. It's sour breath washed over Gwen's face as its maw opened to reveal yellowing teeth. "Maybe it's better this way," Faceless intoned emotionlessly. "We'll be together, whether you like it or not."

Gwen had yet to be on the receiving end of a Void consumption. She had tried to imagine herself in the place of its victims after Caliban had its day. As horrid as the creature's methods were, the process was at least expeditious. A quick look into the abyss of its maw and its victims were out of sight, out of mind. She had thought the same for her present fate, imagining that Faceless's polymorphic spell would swallow her with a slurp. There would be a quick moment of limbo, much like an ethereal jaunt through the Void, then nothing. Unfortunately, Faceless' magic was the slow and meticulous kind. Looming over her bound body; the unintelligible, dark silhouette began by tearing away a section of her blouse, exposing her white, porcelain abdomen. The blood drained from Gwen's face, making stark her already pale complexion. A dark and viscous liquid began to weep from Faceless' gnarly hands, reducing them to stumps. It dripped onto Gwen's stomach with the likeness and texture of soft wax. Gwen watched with trembling horror as obsidian ooze kissed her abdomen. She recoiled; her jaw clenching with such revulsion that it jarred her teeth. When she caught her breath, Gwen attained the petrifying epiphany that this was how Faceless had planned to assimilate her. There wasn't pain. Instead, what she felt was akin to a strange form of anaesthesia. "Arrgh… Aah…" Gwen moaned despite herself. The alien agitation of losing her perception of touch was far more terrifying than the nerve pinching pain she had anticipated. Against her most ardent wishes, she began to whimper. Gwen had not wanted to give Faceless the pleasure, but how could she in the circumstance? It wasn't as though she was an agent trained to resist torture and interrogation. It was only when the adrenaline of the moment began to wane; that Gwen recalled she had been merely an NoM in her old world and a mere student in this world, an untested girl living under the protective shadow of her betters. When Faceless ignored her pleading, she began to thrash incoherently, attempting to throw off the oily substance attaching itself to her abdomen, to grab a fistful of the gravel and rub it into the numbing wound that was even now expanding. "Hold still," Faceless commanded. "I don't want to damage my new body any more than I have to." Within moments, Faceless' morphic liquid had reached her diaphragm. Gwen felt her heaving chest deflate, the musculature unwilling relaxing as parts of its nervous structure lost their connection to her body. No longer capable of speech, Gwen's mind made the worst of its circumstance. What would happen when the oily film reached her breast, penetrated her heart? Would she quietly fall into cardiac arrest? Could she be thankfully deceased before Faceless moved onto her brain, devoured her face? Gwen thought of the others she had inadvertently consumed. One woman had screamed and screamed until Caliban dug through her chest and mercifully put an end to her suffering. Another man watched, laughing maniacally as the netherworld worm began with his feet. Now here she was, enduring the same fate. Was it karma? What was it as Doyle had written for Holmes? That violence recoils upon the violent— and the schemer falls into the pit to which he digs for others? Gwen's still functional fingers clawed the ground, searching for something, anything, her nails splintered as they raked the loose gravel, leaving bloody trails across the sand-tossed gravel. There must be something she could do! She couldn't give up now! She had to resist and fight! She would antagonise Faceless until the dark slick consumed the last mote of light in her eyes. She willed herself to open her Gate of Elemental Lightning, to form a Sigil, any Sigil, so that she could flood her body with the antithetical force, to flush the Void-matter invading her physical form. She willed her Void energy to manifest, to take its liberty with her life-force. She was willing to pay any cost if it meant freeing herself from the confines of the silica manacles cutting her wrists bloody and raw. But no silvery mana of Conjuration emanated from her body; no crackle of Transmutation; no thunderous applause of Evocation. Though the mind was willing, her flesh was arrested and broken. The oily film had now moved its way between her breasts, edging its way towards her neck. Already the vaguely humanoid form of Faceless was diminished, smaller; its volume and mass spent to consume Gwen's flesh and bones. Gwen's Blackwattle blouse fell away, her inner shirt and undergarments consumed by the void matter; she became exposed, her white flesh quivering against the briny air blowing from the open bay. All that remained upon her chest was the nondescript figure of a jade Kirin, tied around her neck with an ordinary red string. The viscous black liquid hesitated as it met the jadeite, a natural material which was said to repel evil spirits. Now exposed to the light of day, the Kirin's emerald surface became a translucent green, highlighting a composite membrane the likeness of a Haworthia's windowed flesh. Feeling Faceless' hesitation, Gwen violently pushed herself upward, kicking out her legs, flagellating the skin from her wrists and ankles. A sharp, throbbing pain emanated from her lower limbs, indicating that in her wild exertion, she had distended something from its socket. She felt Faceless's impatient frustration as she made her last-ditch struggle. With another nauseating wave of numbness consuming her thighs, her legs became still. The pain from her injured limb faded as Faceless ploughed on with passionate intensity, consuming the nerves of her lower body, while above her waist, it began to reach for her throat. Gwen felt the paralysis flow over her chest. Her neck fell limp, and her head rested helplessly against the gravel. This was it. Gwen told herself. In the end, no one came to save her. Did she have a good run? Was she satisfied with the life she had? No. Gwen was not satisfied. She wanted life. She wanted to hug Elvia and rub her face into her flaxen blonde hair. She wanted to go on more adventures with Yue, hear her undisguised laughter. She wanted to marvel at Alesia's antics, sharing a Muscato while overlooking the harbour. She wanted to see if Gunther would ever relent and give in to Alesia. She wanted to become the kind of Mage that she'd promised Henry, the militant pacifist, the Justiciar who lived by her own rules. Gwen no longer believed that death was a way out, that it could be preferable to suffering. If she were to die, it would be by her terms, performing a due that she owned and possessed. Not like this. Not a worthless demise like this. She wanted to live. "I want to live!" Her desperate voice reverberated through the air like a clarion. The twice-lived sorceress blinked, her long lashes fluttering to reveal multi-hued irises alive with vitality. A warmth was flowing from her chest, quietly smouldering as it flooded her conduits. She could hear her heartbeat, a staccato iambic rhythm, growing louder and louder. An emerald presence was suffusing her chest, becoming more powerful by the second. Her eyes regained their clarity and focus. She looked down towards her bare bosoms, finding her torso no longer possessed by the black, viscous tar that was Faceless' consumption spell. Faceless stared at the glowing jade pendant lying upon her chest; her cataract eyes were wide with dumbfounded confusion. Gwen felt a tingle as the emerald glow enveloped her. Where her skin had been consumed and eroded, it now began a rapid regeneration that pushed back the dark, oily tide. "Almudj?" She smelled the eucalyptus-scented air, felt the flush of the golden noon, she sensed the cold waters of billabongs and the welcoming heat of burning red clay. Faceless' consumptive polymorphic shell slid from Gwen's restored body as though she was a serpent shedding old skin. Like ferrofluids without the guidance of a magnetic field, the fiend's magic was failing spectacularly. There was a sudden sound of thunder, rolling across a cloudless sky besotted by an evil sun. "Usurper!" A thought, fulminated beside Gwen's head, low as a deep quake. "Yes, usurpers." Gwen heard herself reply. "Always so cheeky." Faceless frantically retreated from her, trying to recollect the lost motes of his morphic form. The scattered fluid was crawling towards their host like a swarm of armyworms seeking shelter in numbers. The motes of sand that had bound Gwen to the ground suddenly quivered with fear, helpless against an existence so ancient and primordial. Gwen raised a pale white arm from the ground, flawless and unmarred by injury. Gone were the bloody abrasions that flayed her wrists. Gone were the cuts and scraps that ran the length of her elbows, sticky with sand and gravel. She pointed a delicate finger, its pink nail no longer torn at the base, toward Faceless. "Sand Shield!" Faceless relented all efforts to consolidate its scattered parts. Instead, the half-formed creature crossed both arms and summoned a half-dome that sheltered its remaining body. It couldn't use a Void shield against her lightning— even Gwen could see that. "Barbanginy!" Gwen called out to the heavens. A roar of cascading thunder answered her call, shattering a stained glass window nearby, sending loose rubble cascading from ruined buildings. A blade of green lightning shot from the heavens, ionised from thin air. It struck Faceless unerringly, utterly decimating its Shield of Sand, cracking it with the likeness of a hammer falling upon a fragile egg. The force was such that a shockwave rippled from the epicentre, forcing the shapeshifter into the sunken ground. A concentric ring of dust billowed from where Gwen and Faceless stood, blasting apart the gravel and liquifying the silica below. The Sand Spirit, who had attempted to shield Faceless, flared a brilliant white before being blown apart by the force of the explosion, diffusing into a spray of white-hot glass. Gwen willed herself to stand. Before her body even moved; a cushion of air levitated her from the ground, uprighting her body and settling her gingerly onto the rapidly cooling floor. She walked the few steps it took to approach a burnt-out crater; within which Faceless squirmed. When the smoke cleared, Gwen saw the pale, mangled, aberrant form of Henry's child, her Void magic utterly decimated by the blast of primordial lightning. Its already twisted body was now a mess of broken bones and hanging ligaments, languishing in a pool of sizzling silica. The creature coughed. Gwen was surprised to see that its blood was as red as hers. "Forgot. About that. Pendant." Faceless struggled to annunciate each word. Gwen could see several of its ribs poking from its torso. "So stupid… Yue even spoke— about it." "Don't you dare speak her name," Gwen warned the horrid thing. It was a strange sight; their roles now reversed. A near-naked Gwen was now staring down at the paralysed form of the disabled Faceless. "I wonder. Back then, if I had taken Elvia back then— would you—" "Don't you dare speak any of their names!" If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Gwen shot a spark of lightning which burned blue and green as it singed Faceless' chest, sending the already wounded creature into a convulsive death rattle. She placed a hand on her amulet and felt the familiar energy of the Mythic pour from its interior. The Kirin pendant had been a gift from her father, a prize he had unwilling gifted. When she'd first met Henry, her Master had told her that it was the soul stone of a Kirin, though little else. Likewise, she had felt its effects many times in the past. It had taken in the dissipating energy of dying creatures whose soul-stone sundered upon death— but not once had the pendant saw fit to dispensed its bounty to Gwen. After all the crisis she had faced; she had forgotten about it entirely. "I don't. Suppose. You'll spare. Me?" Faceless had taken on a strange cadence of speech. Gwen noted that it was because of its deformed jaws. Without its polymorphic spell active, even speaking seemed to be causing Faceless pain. "My. Offer still. Stands." "Death is too good for you," Gwen said coldly, feeling a poetic epiphany manifesting within her mind. The damned thing was responsible for the death of her Master, her friends, her family in this world. By that same measure, it had tried to consume her body! If it had succeeded, it would have mascaraed through the world in her form, wearing her skin like a sock puppet! Gwen felt a sudden clarity compel her. She wanted to murder Faceless. She wanted the damned thing to suffer. The intensity of the desire frightened her. Were such thoughts untenable? Would Henry, who'd thought the world of her, be disappointed if his apprentice celebrated her cruelty? Her old self would have shirked from her duty. Hid behind wise words of great men whose wisdom where ivory towers. But not so now. She thought of Henry, her Master, and the first time she'd impressed her kind mentor. "The abuse of Greatness…" she had announced to him naively, thinking herself armoured in the sagacity of her old world. "… is when remorse is disjointed from power!" But she felt no remorse now. It felt right. If anything was right in the world, it was this. "Caliban!" she commanded, her banished creature appropriating its pound of flesh. To Gwen's pleasant surprise, the cost in vitality barely registered against the reservoir held within the Kirin pendant. Caliban slithered into being, bloated and muscular, a sinuous blight upon the world. "Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban menaced the hapless Faceless. Its smooth carapace slid open with a silent hiss, sending globulars of grey goo sliding down its pulsating purple body. It's lampreys mouth opened to reveal its pink tentacled tongues, writhing within a mouth full of dagger-like teeth. "Oh." Faceless chuckled, a mouthful of clotting blood issuing from its torn lips. "I told you we were alike! I told you. Gwen Song. We would be together. One way. Or another." "Make it slow," Gwen commanded Caliban, her iron voice without an ounce of remorse. Caliban slunk forward and began with Faceless' limbs. From there, it would proceed to the liver, the offal, the heart, and finally, the sweetmeat that was its brain. While Faceless wailed, Gwen listened to the joyous music of her Familiar's wicked work. Her gaze upward. A dark sun still floated over the horizon. From beneath it, Gwen could just see minute specks locked in aerial combat. There were flashes of radiance that indicated her brother-in-craft was locked in deadly battle. She extended a hand and relented a portion of the protective, emerald energy. It was subtle, but her familiarity with the Void allowed her to feel it distinctly. The blighted light of the Black Sun was draining her life. It was barely perceptible, but it was there. "Jesus Christ..." She shuddered to think that if the spell covered all of Sydney's metropolis, the number of souls feeding into it would range anywhere from two to three million. If a Mage such as her felt diminished by the life-drain, how long could an NoM last against the pseudo sun's insatiable celestial hunger? Beside her, Caliban had almost finished its wicked work. The creature had done well, for Faceless had only expired in the second minute of its inexpert endeavour. When the serpent had finished the last vestige of its meal with a grotesque slurp; she recalled it. Gwen felt no immediate changes to her Astral Body, but she knew that her new boon would come. Concurrently, she would take Faceless' gift of Affinity and talent as interest. She produced from her Storage Ring a simple one-piece dress and attired herself, all the while staring intently at the dark sun. "Almudj," she closed her eyes and imagined the scintillating form of the serpent. "Will you help me?" A violent gust of air swept her from the ground. Gwen herself lacked the means for Flight, but the elemental air nonetheless held her aloft. Gwen took a deep breath and smothered the rampant emotions running through her disquieted mind. Faceless was dead. She had her satisfaction now. But she was far from done. It was time for Elizabeth Sobel to pay back her debt of blood. When Morye Song finally arrived at Rose Bay, it felt as though he had survived what felt like the twelve trials of Hercules. He had begun the search for his daughter immediately, scouring the abandoned Cathedral but finding nothing but the flotsam and jetsam of a hurried evacuation. He'd sought for her high and low through the school grounds, even venturing into the surrounding suburbs, but still, she was nowhere to be found. Morye cursed Gunther Shultz. "The lying sack of shit!" he shouted at no one in particular. "Wasting my time! I could have evacuated to the inland shelters already!" As if answering Morye's unbidden curse, there was a cacophony bang. The Tower had materialised above. "Oh, thank fuck!" Morye muttered to himself, taking a relieving drag from a cigarette he'd cooly lipped the whole while. "Finally, someone's doing their job." As if mocking Morye's relief, the spire of the Tower erupted, sending shockwaves across the sky. All around them, bits of masonry began to crumble into the city below. "Ah, fuck!" Morye cursed, the cig he'd been nursing fell from his lips. He watched the Tower smoke and burned. Thankfully, the fortress remained afloat. Another explosion rocked its spire. A dark sun blossomed and began to shed a prismatic spray of void matter the blighted the landscape. Instantly, the trees started to wilt, dropping leaves at an insane rate. Smaller flora such as perennial wildflowers withered immediately. Morye quickly protected himself with a sheen of salt, preventing his life force from escaping his body. "Jesus, what is this, the Sino War? What's with the strategic-class rituals?" Given the circumstances, he asked himself whether he'd done his best to search for his missing child. "A father can only do so much," he announced to no one in particular, confident that he had executed his duty to the fullest capacity. He was in a real-life crisis, after all, not a Lumen-cast propaganda recording. "Such is life." Morye incanted a flight spell and again took to the air. He was about ready to launch from the peninsula when a burst of brilliant lightning which suddenly emanated from the cloudless sky. He flew in circles until he found the source of the lightning. It was Gwen. His daughter was stark naked and bare-breasted, a living Venus. Morye quickly averted his eyes; feeling the awkwardness rise like an acute case of indigestion. "What the fuck?" he swore again. He couldn't even begin to fathom why his daughter would be trapezing around a battlefield in the nude. He was just about to announce his awkward presence when a black serpent, more horrible than anything he'd seen since the war, materialised beside her. "OH, FUCK!" he ducked behind cover. "Seriously Gwen, who the fuck are you hanging around with?" Then the thing began to eat. From Morye's vantage point, he could see that the netherworld worm was torturously consuming the paralysed Mage languishing in the burnt-out crater. "Jesus! Shit!" Morye mouthed unconsciously, feeling ill at the sight of the live dismemberment. When the creature began to swallow and regurgitate the Mage for ease of eating; he hurled in his mouth. "Who does that! Seriously!" Morye had to wash out his mouth before he felt ready to accost his wayward daughter about her inhuman cruelty. What had happened to his simpering, quiet, beautiful little girl in the last twelve months? When had she become such a delinquent? The last time he saw her, she'd been entirely innocent and naive. What the hell had Henry Kilroy been teaching his daughter! He would have words! Polite, but stern words, with the Magister! The old dog would get a piece of his mind! Just as Morye was about to leap from cover to wag a critical finger at her face, his wayward daughter began to glow with a radiant, emerald energy. As Morye watched agog, his daughter launched herself into the air, unaided by any spell, and made for the dark sun. It took Morye several more minutes to process the scene he'd just witnessed. In the aftermath, the Salt Mage tapped his pockets and found another cigarette. He lit it and smoked, inhaling and exhaling contemplatively. "I am not even supposed to be working today," Morye comforted himself. Sometimes, he realised, a man should just be honest with himself. "Fuck this. I am out." Alesia de Botton was rapidly blinking through the Grot when she became suddenly displaced by the instability of the pocket dimension. The distortion had caught her unaware, sending her barreling into a space caught between two places. To her understanding, the Grot was not a single space; it was an overlap. It existed in the Tower as the heart of Henry's domain - as well as a Dryad's grove, located in one of the world's infamous Black Zones. In his youth, her Master had sojourned to one such zone as a part of his quest. It was there that Henry had met a fledgeling Dryad, gifted her the name of Sufina, and contracted her to be his partner. And as for Sufina, Alesia had known the ageless Dryad since her troubled youth as a rebellious rabble-rouser. She had fond memories of sitting within the Grot, her thin legs dangling from a branch as she nursed a cup of golden mead. Whenever Alesia was hurt, the sympathetic Dryad would cradle her like a mother, its energetic presence mending her wounds both physical and otherwise. Earlier, when she had finally orientated herself, the dimensional tethers were already quaking with instability. She looked for Henry, for Yue, for Gwen's friends. What she saw, however, was a distorted jumble of uncertain, malformed vision. The space of the Grot within the Tower was collapsing. The implication fell upon Alesia like a Cone of Cold manifesting through her gut. Her chest felt as though a Telekinetic hand was attempting to extract her heart, arteries and all. "Master…" she uttered despairingly, feeling herself ambushed by powerful, unbidden emotions. In no Plane, neither Astral, Elemental or Primary, had Alesia imagined that her deathless mentor could have met his end before she did. After all, she was the reckless one, the haphazard adventurer, the fiery madcap who'd seldom valued thought over action. But tragedy seldom had the patience for sentimentality. Unbidden, the air distorted. "Blink!" It was all Alesia could do in the circumstances. The Blink spell, when channelled elementally, took one into a pocket dimension of its own, diving into the Elemental Plane of Fire before emerging once again been displaced into the Prime Material Plane. When Alesia emerged again into the material realm, she was no longer in the Tower. She was falling fast, tumbling from the sky while the distant curvature of the earth appeared and disappeared from the edge of her vision. The forward momentum of her blink must have been converted into a downward thrust, for Alesia could hear the air whooshing fatalistically past her face. "Flight!" Desperately she tried to levitate herself, somersaulting and corkscrewing wildly. The earth beneath her quickly approached. Before Alesia could terminate her momentum, she crashed into the line of trees. The first few impacts were gentle enough, sapling branches snapping under her weight. The next dozen raked her skin and beat her senseless, tossing her bodily to and fro as she ricocheted toward a carpet of pine needles. She landed with an audible thunk, thankfully padded by the soft soil. Her clothes were a shredded mess, her skin broken and bleeding. Her shoulders and thighs had become marred by brutal gashes, a stabbing pain within her torso that suggests a rib had found itself out of place. For a moment, Alesia laid still, stunned in more ways than one. She was alone - alone in a quiet forest with no one to judge her, no one to look up to her stoic demeanour. There, prone and bleeding, she thought of her Master, a man she would have gladly called a father. She recalled the lines of his kind face as he guided her, his stern reprimand as he showed her the ways of the world. He had taught her how to fight, how to use her spells, how to exploit her enemies. He'd shielded her when things had gotten out of control, laughed with her when she'd been successful. Now all of that was ended. Now, she would never again hear that voice, never again feel the firmness of his hand upon her shoulder. Alesia de Botton, the Scarlet Sorceress, began to weep. First as a quiet sob, then growing as a wracking cry that shook her shoulders and tugged at her broken ribs. She began to bawl like a child, feeling the rawness of her emotions overwhelm all rational thought. The outburst persisted until the pressure that had built up within her chest escaped. When the last ounce of grief burned itself out, the crisis of the moment came crashing back. Her teacher was gone, but his murderer still lived. Gwen needed saving, and Gunther was still fighting for his life somewhere. Her body felt broken, her potion cool-downs spent, but Alesia de Botton had one more trump card up her sleeve. She materialised the Efreeti Dagger in her hand. It was a gift from her Master, used to tap into her gifted Affinity. Within it was imprisoned the spirit of an Efreet that Henry had summoned, trapped, and bound for her perusal. It was a unique item, exceedingly rare and precious, an irreplaceable treasure. She held the blade gingerly and sliced it across the palm of her hand, smearing the glinting ochre metal with a dash of striking crimson. "O Heart of Flame, Spirit of the Fire, I summon thee from the City of Brass, heed my call." The blade became wreathed in a white-hot flame. The fire expanded until it took on the shape of a woman, scarcely garbed in an intricately beaten brass-brassiere. Its hair was a mane of orange and ochre, its eyes two burning coals. Its limbs were full and vital, round and shapely, its waist sinuous and serpentine, at once dangerous and inviting. The casual observer would have recognised its likeness as Alesia's infamous flame-clad form, her signature combat transformation. When no order for element fusion came from Alesia, the Efreet gazed toward its Master with puzzlement and malice. Djinns such as these were proud and arrogant creatures. To be made to serve a mere mortal was a severe insult, the gravest injury imaginable to its magical mind. "I want to make a deal," Alesia declared. Immediately their surrounding smouldered and burned. She had the Djinn's full attention. "Give me the power necessary to defeat my enemies, to avenge my Master," Alesia intoned carefully. "And I shall set you free." There was no hesitation in the Djinn's choice. For two decades it'd been trapped in the Efreeti Blade. Though twenty years were but a moment for these immortal beings, the imprisonment remained a degeneration of its noble status that it loathed bearing. Crack! The blade of the elementally-forged dagger splintered. A mote of flame leapt from within, falling upon Alesia's bosom. Her body caught the spark as though it consisted of bone-dry kindling, transforming her into a torrent of swirling fire that twisted and turned until she became the centre of a flaming vortex. A scarlet tornado burst from the depth of the pine forest with a terrific cacophony, transforming the plantation into a sea of flames. Her wounds no longer mattered, her injuries became less than substantial. Wreathed in the fleeting power of a Djinn, Alesia was now a white-hot font of plasma, a living pyre in humanoid form. She rose into the sky and saw the distant skyline of Sydney. The sky was no longer the same ultramarine she had seen in Rosebay. Now it was tainted by a black sun that seemed to suck in all light, casting a miasmic shadow of Void matter over the landscape. With a simple gesture and a command from her will, Alesia became a shooting star, tearing across the afternoon sky. There, she would find Elizabeth. There, she would find vengeance. There, she would find atonement.

"Irene, one more time!" Gunther barked at the Master Diviner. Ferris focused her mana and conjured another Simulacrum, the strain causing her already pale face to wince with mana fatigue. The illusory Gunther flew directly beneath Sobel, creating refractory conjurations which allowed Gunther to strike at the Void Mage utilising a pincer attack. Beside them, Walken was already panting with exhaustion, having spent the better portion of his mana on the failed Maze. Of the three, only Gunther was barely breaking a sweat, carefully managing his mana pool despite the dozen or so exchanges they had traded in succession. Their core problem, the combatants gathered, was that neither Ferris nor Walken were Combat Mages who had gained the title of Magister through decades of conflict and war. Irene Ferris was ultimately just an academic; an intelligence officer turned Magister who was more interested in Arcane Manufacturing than pragmatic combat. Walken, on the other hand, was better; but the man had always worked in the shadows, seldom gracing the Tower's oft-violent conflicts of interest. A scholar. A politician. A Paladin. That's the rag-tag team that fate had wrought to combat a six-decade-old Void Sorceress, a war hero who'd survived the Saurian Incursion, the Coral Sea Conflict, and countless other military actions large and small. At first, the battle had opened optimistically. They had fought her in the Tower and beaten back the tide of vampiric lamprey creatures. When they had thought Elizabeth cornered, however, she invoked a ritualistic incantation which began as a dark orb, then rapidly expanded until it became the scene before them. At first, they had thought the spell a Maelstrom or at worst a Black Hole, but the reality of their new hell quickly outstripped even the worst of their expectations. Battling under the baleful light of the Void Sun was itself a fatiguing endeavour. Even if the trio could use shields to prevent the vitality drain, they still felt their ambient mana draining away, making combat excessively lethargic. Gunther was not optimistic about their chances. If he was to be brutally honest with himself - Elizabeth Sobel was kicking their arses. For some reason, the woman had a seemingly inexhaustible array of vitality and mana. Where Gunther, Ferris and Walken planned and conserved mana, his Master's estranged wife continued to pump out high-tier cataclysms one after another. From training with Gwen, Gunther knew that the fledgeling Void Mage was at best good for a handful of low-tier spells and at best one or two higher-tier incantations. Yet Elizabeth seemed completed unaffected by the physical strain of Void Magic. The Dark Sun was the apparent culprit for Elizabeth's inexhaustible stamina. Earlier, Gunther had fired a Sunbeam into the Void portal without so much as receiving a single indication that his attack affected the orb. It had, as the saying goes, it had disappeared into the Void. All they could do was to kite Elizabeth and wait to see if she would expose a moment of weakness for them to exploit. To that end, Gunther was glad that Irene Ferris was on their side. The Magister wasn't a Combat Mage, but she was an adept Illusionist. With a plethora of Mirrored Images, Arcane Vision, Projected Image and Simulacrum. Together, they harried Elizabeth, while being spared from the brunt of her attacks. The Void sorceress was growing impatient though; her spells were increasingly more outlandish and less restrained. Already the collateral damage from misfired spells and dodged attacks had taken down a portion of the Tower's outer walls, sending a hail of deadly stones into the city below. The rest of the Tower Mages had dispersed, finding shelter or escaping while they still could. If Gunther and two other Magisters could not hold down Elizabeth, then the city was forfeit; they would merely be fodder for the insatiable hunger of Sobel's vampiric ritual. "Chain Void Bolt!" A zig-zag array of dark Lightning sliced across the sky, striking one mirrored image after another. The third ricochet caught Gunther's clone, sundering the mirage into the indistinct, azure motes of mana unique to the School of Illusion. Despite their best efforts, the tier 6 Evocation had caught them flat-footed; its deadly effects deployed within a split-second. "Light Screen!" Gunther's shield appeared too late to assist Walken, who'd been caught alone after his illusory double had perished. "Void Sphere!" A ball of void energy bloomed beside the Magister, eating through his protection in the blink of an eye. Of all the primary elements— Air had the weakest Shield by far. Usually, Walken would have fought behind his conjured familiar, the impressive Couatl Aella— a winged serpent that was equally the match of many a Magus. Unfortunately for the hapless Magister, his familiar, with its rare lightning breath attack, had been an early casualty of their battle against Sobel. Winded, Walken fought off the hostile magic, but it was clear that the scheming Magister had been grievously wounded. Gunther retracted the Light Screen. His Abjuration wasn't going to help the Magister now. "Ferris!" "On it!" A simulacrum split off from Ferris and dived for the falling Magister. Like Waken, she too was approaching her limit. "Fiore, when's the damn Towers getting here?" Gunther fired off a Message spell to Walken's Second, who'd chosen to remain in the Tower and oversee communications. "The mana drain from the Void-Sun is wreaking havoc with our instruments, but I'd say in the next hour," a wearied female voice replied. "Carey, what's the status on the Evacuation?" "Not looking good sir, due to our loss of LRM earlier, most of the NoM civilians remain above ground." "Shit! What are the Enforcers doing? What about the Civil Defence Mages?" "I am afraid they have their hands full." "With what? There's no incursion past the CBD area!" "With the riots, sir." "The what?" Gunther executed a corkscrew turn, avoiding a hail of dark ice that shrieked past his mirrored image and into the city below. "The NoMs, sir. They're rioting and looting across the Greater West." Gunther cursed under his breath. Now was not the time to be delicate. As much as his Master seemed to sympathise with the NoMs, their behaviour often left him wondering if they were even the same species. Rioting in the crisis of an invasion, looting for profit when an enervating sun was growing ever larger above their heads? What foolishness! "Kill the ringleaders and set an example, get the rest into the Shelters as soon as possible. If the Dark Sun spreads beyond the city, they're all going to be Void dust. I'll take full responsibility." "Aye, Sir. I'll pass the message on." With a boost of mana, Gunther executed a deadman's turn, watching Elizabeth blow past him in a white blur. The Void Sorceress must be supremely confident, Gunther observed. She lacked Ioun Stones, wands, enchanted armour, and expendable items— all Sobel had on was a white chiffon dress whose tattered state indicated mortal fabric. Indeed, while the trio had burned potions and scrolls, the Void sorceress had carried on without appearing taxed. After dodging another spell, Gunther had the distinct feeling that Elizabeth was a cat toying with three blind mice. "Dawn!" A ball of light erupted in front of Elizabeth's flight path. The Void Mage immediately erected a shield, but this time it was Gunther who'd caught her flat-footed. He watched with focused intent as the radiant heat seared her milk-white skin, eliciting blistering boils from her flawless complexion. The scent of charred flesh trailed through the air. Just as Gunther slowed to make ready his follow-up strike; Elizabeth rotated her body in midair and fired off a riposte to his aerial ambush. Her conjured Morden's Blade shrieked through the air, too fast for Gunther's eyes to follow. By the time he had erected his Non-Newtonian shield, it was already inches away from his torso. "Teleport!" Even with Gunther's proficiency, he was too late. The blade found his body just as the spell manifested. When Gunther reappeared some distance away, he could feel that a part of his musculature was amiss. A good six-inch of his flesh— skin, tissues and all, had been consumed. Before his body could register the pain, Gunther materialised a healing injector and impaled his wound. The itching growth of new flesh immediately followed, but the Void had already taken its toll. His Astral body had become wounded— even if Gunther's body healed, it would take months of soulful osmosis for his flesh to regain sensation and feeling. So it was that the Paladin of Sydney fell back, cursing himself for underestimating the Void Mage's resilience. His one solace, however, was that they had exchanged a significant blow. Until Elizabeth reappeared from her tumbling roll, her ivory face not showing a single blemish. Gunther cursed, caught off guard by the impossible outcome. He had seen her face boil and burn! How was this possible? The Paladin's moment of hesitation proved near-fatal. Just as Gunther reeled from both the physical shock of recovery and the mental stupor of surprise, Elizabeth made her play. The Morden's Blade remerged from behind her and teasingly, then made a bee-line for Gunther's chest. Gunther did not doubt that the blade was a distraction and that the woman would have a follow up waiting for him. But, his retaliation needed a few more seconds, for the reinvigoration of lost flesh had paralysed his body. Gunther had thought that his final thoughts would be of his Master. To his surprise, it was Alesia's face that appeared. A flaming, resplendent Alesia who was pure plasma, the very vision of an elemental Djinn blessed with the power of fire. A split-second passed, then his vision filled with that of a fiery Valkyrie blazing a trail of fireflies, with smouldering coals for eyes. "Did ya miss me, Tiger?" Her voice was the sweetest thing in the world. Gunther was very much surprised that his final vision was even capable of speech. Maybe, just maybe, he had admired his sister-in-craft more than he'd thought. "Alesia," he confessed to the blinding vision, so bright as to burn a sensuous silhouette into his retinas. "I am sorry—" Then the Efreet was gone. It had taken the Void Sorceress with her, leaving behind a mist of dark blood and burning air. Gunther's mind jolted back to reality. That was no vision! His mind screamed at him. You dimwit! That was Alesia in the flesh! "Alesia!" his voice boomed at the retreating form now fleeing from him like a falling star. "Beware! She's feeding off the Black Sun!" Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The supernatural confidence of the Djinns suited Alesia well. She hadn't felt the need to consider meagre offerings like strategy. After all, she was flame incarnate; a Djinn manifested in the material realm, a Demi-Goddess of fire. What was an illusion before absolute power? What was trickery and subterfuge before unquestionable force? A halo of plasma and fire coalesced around Alesia as she blasted towards the Tower. A ring of superheated hair blew from her passage as the barrier of sound itself was sundered by her supersonic flight. The Tower rapidly grew larger She could now see specks, fighting in the distance. Rapidly, specks became individuals; one white, one radiant, and two that were nondescript. The white one was Elizabeth, one of the plebeian looking ones was Walken. The radiant one was Gunther, meaning the last mote was Ferris. Alesia already had her priorities sorted - Elizabeth would burn first, then Walken would follow her fate. She saw Gunther making a corkscrew turn, retaliating as he spiralled, catching Elizabeth as she dodged. She saw Elizabeth retaliate. She saw Gunther becoming wounded by a dark sliver of Void. A new fury exploded in Alesia's chest. The tail of searing flame that trailed her passage changed from white-hot to dazzling. "Did ya missed me, Tiger?" Alesia fired off a mirthful Message spell just before impact. It felt like a lifetime before she'd seen Gunther, and her heart soared to know that he was alive. But kisses and hugs would have to wait. There was a wicked business to concluded before they could lick each other's wounds and find commiseration in the commonality of their grief. WHAM! Alesia ensured that her rigid flame-shield slammed into Elizabeth with superhuman force. The impact was such that had it not been for Alesia's elemental form; both combatants would have become the mingled mince, forming a human rissole. There was a satisfying crunch when she'd struck the void witch, feeling the shock of her body-blow reverberate through the tiny woman's frail form. To the Scarlet Sorceress' surprise, the Void Mage did not simply cease to exist, nor was she cut in twain by the force of Alesia's assault. Alesia's combat instincts screamed for her to continue her assault. With one hand, she fired a jet stream of blue-white flames in the opposite direction, cutting her inertia dead in the air. The dizzying manoeuvre was just enough to send the sprawling body away from Elizabeth, whose silhouette exploded into a mess of dark worms issued straight from the Void. "Flaming Hand!" The air ignited— the revolting creatures ceased to be. "Watch out! There's a…" Gunther's warning came too late. His flight spell was many degrees slower than Alesia' rocket-powered acceleration. Sobel's conjured Black Blade emerged from the burning mass, cutting the air with an unholy shriek as it aimed for Alesia's heart. With no time to react, Alesia swung her arms downward, instinctively opening her palms to catch the incoming projectile. CLANG! To the surprise of all, the vorpal blade had not taken off Alesia's forearm as Sobel had expected. Instead, Alesia's elemental body of plasma caught the flat-edge an inch from her torso, enclosed between her palms. Alesia's scalp crawled. Who the hell catches a Morden's Blade with their bare hands?! Her rational mind felt challenged by her surreal circumstance. Furthermore, what the hell does one do next after catching a dancing vorpal blade? On instinct, Alesia knew what to do. White-hot flames blew from her palms until the air ignited with blue-green bursts. The mana of the Black Blade sizzled, then exploded into globs of dark ink, raining down into the city below. "There's a PhD there for whoever explains that phenomenon," Gunther remarked dryly, finally reaching his companion's side. "The fuck did the bitch go?" Alesia looked around, bewildered. "That was a simulacrum thing! Where's her real body?" "Aye, and a dangerously self-destructive one," Gunther observed unhappily. "What did I tell you about rushing in, Allie?" Alesia shot Gunther a look that spoke volumes, her eyes two glowing cores rolling in the molten sockets of her face. Gunther coughed and averted his gaze. "Thanks for saving my life," the Paladin remarked quietly. "I am sorry about our Master, whatever happened, I am sure you did your best." "Well, it wasn't enough." Alesia's voice lost the vivacity she had possessed just a moment ago. Sighing, she looked up at the dark sun hanging mercilessly over the blue sky, an unmoving eclipse which cast its deadly blessing over all that it surveyed. "How do we kill that?" Alesia asked. Gunther dearly wished he had an answer to her question. "Well, Walken said that her Void was weak to Lightning. Walken also said that the Melbourne and Brisbane towers are incoming, ETA, soon." Gunther did not sound optimistic. Alesia shook her head, sending out a swarm of fireflies. "They don't have anyone at the Magus level." "I know," Gunther affirmed. "Gunther!" A Message spell bloomed next to Gunther's ear. It was Irene Ferris. "I don't know what you did, but something just came out of the Black Sun!" Gunther relayed the Message to Alesia, whose flaming eyes smouldered. "Gunther!" Irene's voice took on a tone of urgency. "We're coming back now." The two ascended, with Alesia leading. From afar, the duo appeared as though two shooting stars moving to accost the dusky sky. Closer now, they could see that Ferris was right to worry. The Void-sun was changing now, taking on a more malicious tone. The shadowy blight it was dispensing was becoming more intense, hungrier and more potent. The tingling coldness one felt when it touched the skin was now an icy bite that permeated to the bone. "Its good to see you again, Alesia," Ferris muttered when Alesia pulled up. "We need all the help we can get." Walken, wounded and discretely loitering a distance away, tried to make himself scarce. Unfortunately, there was no escaping Alesia's smouldering orbs. "Alesia, not now." Gunther wanted to place a hand on her shoulder but feared to lose his limb should his Sister-in-craft's emotions supersede her rationality. A moment of dangerous crossroads hung in the air; the silence punctuated only by the ambient thrum of the dark sun's magic. As they spoke, bursts of enervating energy emitted from the dark sun. Dark tendrils, distinct and indistinct, emerged like curious tongues, tasting the air for prey. "Don't let them touch you!" Gunther alerted the others, recalling the vision that had been agonisingly wrought by Mark Chandler at the cost of his sister's soul. The others hadn't needed Gunther's warning to tell them that much. As the prehensile tendrils reached out, seemingly ignoring the limitations of space, the trio was forced to duck and weave, alternating between shielding and abjuring the shadowy appendages. It was Gunther who first noticed that Alesia's flames were no longer swaying chaotically in the air. Instead, the heat of her Aegis of Flame was streaming in one direction, feeding the heart of the sun. Walken, who'd been paying particular attention toward Alesia, likewise realised what was happening. "It's penetrating our Shields!" he Messaged the others. "We're not going to last much longer under this." "How shall we regroup?" Ferris inquired carefully, though the question may as well be rhetorical. If they were to flee from the sun now, it would only grow stronger. If they couldn't contain it now, somehow, how could they defeat it when it matured? "Ideas?" The collected Magisters and Maguses communed while keeping the tentacles and tendrils at bay. Each appendage seemed to possess a life of its own, hunting and feeling the air for nourishment. Gunther did not doubt that if they were to leave, the tendrils would be felicitously hunting the lesser Mages below. When none of them spoke, Ferris made a suggestion. "How about we wait for the other Towers. We can attempt a parallel octagramic mandala Dispel when Uther and Lin get here. Myself, Alesia, Walken, Gunther, and two fresh Magisters. We can use their Tower Mages for the other two spots. Surely they would have brought their Paladins along as well." Walken interjected. "Impossible, there is no way we're going to be able to attune the magic, not with the tendrils attacking us. Look at that thing; you think the other two are going to let their Tower Mages serve as fodder while we take time to commune and align our mana?" "Not to mention—" Walken narrowly dodged a grasping tentacle. His flight agility had been drastically affected by the injury earlier. The Magister's body desperately needed a Greater Restoration, but there were no healers powerful enough to be present in a battle of this magnitude. A mid-tier Cleric would only serve as targets of opportunity, feeding Elizabeth's hunger for mana and vitality. "… the Tower has been losing altitude since a moment ago." "Well, you got any better ideas?" Ferris demanded cattily. "Fuck this," Alesia suddenly announced. "Gunther, cover me." Before Gunther could answer, Alesia shot upward like a falling star compelled by Reverse Gravity. A triple layer of mandalas formed under her feet as she blasted through the tendrils barring her way, arriving dead centre of the hovering sun, just beyond the borders of its nether realm. A host of tendrils moved to usurp her elemental energy, abjured by blasts of light emanating from below, slicing and dicing the intruding mass. "Light Screen!" A double glazed barred the tentacles for the moment. "Allie," he began, but the worrying words in this throat were mute before he could speak them. The battle for Sydney was her fight as well as his. Even if they swapped places, Gunther knew he would have also ignored Alesia and persisted what he thought was necessary and right. They were birds of a feather in many ways, they who were proteges of Henry Kilroy, inheritors of their Master's gifts, not to mention his sins. If Elizabeth exists today because of their Master's weakness, then for the sake of the Master who brought them life, his students would conclude their Master's life's work. For better or worse, there must be closure to the chapter. "I'll cover you," Gunther said instead. "Sphere of Light!" An aura of brilliant radiance expanded around the two Mages. Used defensively, the light channelled from the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Radiance consumed all beings of darkness, dispelled all things whose origins lay within the Negative Plane. Gunther had saved the spell as a trump card, an eleventh-hour attempt at repealing Elizabeth's mortal strike— alas, now, he felt no qualms burning the high-tier Evocation if it meant sheltering Alesia. The flames that sheathed Alesia grew focused, losing that chaotic quality so endearing to fire, instead weaving themselves into her body. Alesia was already an impressive Evoker, but the spell she was attempting was a tier higher. As with all things magical, there were dire repercussions for exceeding one's limitations. At best, the invocation would wreak havoc upon her Astral body and rupture her mana conduits; at worst, she could become severely debilitated by mana burn. No Mage ever wanted to make this choice, but now was as a particular time, and all Gunther could do was be his dearest's protector. In a moment, the Djinn's borrowed mana poured from Alesia's body, feeding the spell manifesting above. Her crimson Caracal fused itself into the manifest, expending its Essence to shield its Master from the negative feedback of the over-channelled sorcery. Though the Caracal spirit wasn't a sapient being like Sufina, it instinctively prioritised its Master's life over the continued existence of its ego. A heaviness smothered the air, a feeling of dreaded oppression. The ambient temperature of the air skyrocketed as a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire gave birth to a massive fireball a dozen meters in circumference. Smouldering with spluttering flames, Alesia pointed a finger heavenward, then moved it towards the nadir in a swift, violent motion. "Meteor Strike!" The burgeoning mass of plasma began to move. It first moved ponderously, but as it picked up speed, an elongated tail of orange-red flames began to grow, casting an orange haze over the dark recesses of the void-sun, turning its translucent tendrils orange and yellow. Besides the dark sun, Gunther clutched the exhausted Alesia, heedless of her flaming torso, pulling her from the path of her AoE spell. "Teleport!" With the Crimson Caracal consumed by Alesia's spell, Gunther was no longer confident that Alesia's AOEs could discriminate between friend and foe. As the two faded amidst a swirl of quicksilver mana, the forces of Void and Fire collided. To the observers below, marvelling and screaming at the sight of two celestial bodies in a mortal contest, it was akin to a reverse eclipse. Above them, a dark sun was lit up by a meteor of raw elemental fire. To the observer's surprise, there was no cacophonic explosion, no blast ring that sent shockwaves below to trouble the already sundered city. There wasn't even the sound of two objects meeting in violent disharmony. There was only a hiss— A terrible, indescribable hiss as the dark sun began to consume the meteor. The meeting of two celestial bodies of energy was a foreboding sight that would trouble researchers for years to come. What would happen when a strategic ritual designed for mass vampiric absorption met an overwhelming force? At what equivalence does the consumption win out, when do they negate one another, and at what magnitude does the spell force disrupt the ritual's mandala? Unfortunately for Alesia and her battered, exhausted company, the answer did not ring in their favour. Not even a Meteor, one tier below the city-destroying Meteor Swarm, a strategic spell used only in conflicts of mutually assured destruction, could destroy the dark sun. As Alesia grew increasingly weaker, feeling the power of her meteor wane, they could once again see that the Black Sun was regaining its exhausted energies. Even if over half of the sun's initial mass dissolved, there were plenty of Mages and NoMs, flora and fauna below to feed its hunger. When the mass of the meteor finally dissipated, they could see for a brief moment, the silhouette of a woman in the darkness, shrouded by the void tendrils. Elizabeth must be laughing at them, mocking their last-ditch attempt. Then she faded from view, and tendrils once again manifested from the heart of the blighted celestial object. Alesia's companions scattered as before, only now further weakened and spent. "Gunther!" Alesia's cry of alarm shook her brother-in-craft from the despairing revelry of assured defeat. A tendril had found the Scarlet Sorceress. The cognisance came as much as a surprise to Gunther as it would have for anyone of them. Alesia was the most agile and empowered for combat, for her to be caught, she must be genuinely exhausted. To their relief, Gunther had enough mana remaining to severed the nether-tentacle with a blast of light. Alesia's problems, however, were just beginning. The sorceress' flaming form suddenly became a chaotic mess of spluttering flames, appearing and disappearing about her body. Instantly, Gunther realised that the Djinn that had been the source of the Efreeti Transformation was to blame. Now that Alesia was bereft of mana, exhausted in spirit, and physically wounded by her overambitious spell of mass destruction, it was maliciously trying to cause the death of its host! Even as Gunther approached, dodging several jellyfish tendrils of void-matter himself, Alesia lost herself to another tendril. Gunther swore under his breath; his mana was hardly inexhaustible. They had been fighting for half-an-hour now, throwing out one spell after another, soon they would all be out of mana and helpless. "Scorching Radiance!" Another blast freed Alesia from her impending crisis. Gunther tackled his craft-sister in midair and dove downwards for the cover of the crumbling Tower. A searing pain ignited across his arm, hands and chest. The scent of scorched flesh filled his nostrils. The fucking Djinn! Gunther swore. It dared to attack him! Had Gunther not been flame-aligned himself, the assault would have floored him, debilitated him with an unexpected fatal blow. "Shit!" Gunther swore. "Allie, hold on!" Though the distraction lasted only a second, it was enough. First, a single tendril, then two more, and then a dozen, quickly wrapped around Gunther and Alesia's falling form, compounding the crisis that Gunther faced from the rebellious Djinn. Gunther was not a man prone to admit to despair, but now he felt it distinctly. If he and Alesia were gone, who would carry on Henry's legacy? Would his Master always be remembered as the husband of the madwoman who consumed all of Sydney? What of all his subordinates, all those NoMs that awaited salvation below? Who would save them now? DING! A Message alarm fired off beside Gunther's head. Gunther answered it in disbelief. "Gwen?" Rolling thunder echoed across the cloudless sky, growing louder and louder with each passing mile. Their youngest sister-in-craft had arrived.

Gwen deeply regretted not preemptively learning Flight. The last time she flew, Alesia had held her hand, pulling her through the sky like a human balloon. Now she was flying again; only she wasn't in control of the elements that held her aloft. As much as Almudj aided her with the manipulation of flight, she still drifted toward the battle like a drunk trying to give backseat directions to a deaf driver, in a car without a steering wheel. Her chest ached. It was an excruciating delay, to see that the battle was so close, yet she was physically too far to aid her siblings. "Almudj, can we go faster?" Gwen pleaded with the air. A sound of rustling leaves ensured that their velocity increased, but still the Tower and the dark sun loomed in the distance, with its ring of combatants mere specks. Once the euphoria of murdering Faceless faded, Gwen felt the distinct pang of contemplative self-loathing. Then, there was the battle ahead. Gwen swallowed a reflexive surge of bitter bile when she thought of fighting Elizabeth. It was one thing, after all, to run over hot coals in a madcap moment, and another to see it smoke and smoulder while one considered the consequences. As she contemplated badgering Almudj for another burst of acceleration, she heard the unthinkable ding of a Message spell blossom beside her ear. Quickly, she extracted her Message device from the storage ring and activated its receiving Glyph. The voice that came through almost made Gwen burst into tears. "Gwen! Are you alright? Are you still in Rosebay? Have you evacuated?" Richard fired off a volley of rapid questions. "I am… alright." Gwen wasn't sure how to explain it all. "How's everyone else?" "We're inland, well, the family is inland - your mother included. Surya's offered up his estate as a camp. I've volunteered to stay behind as rearguard and to pick up stragglers. Where are you now? I'll come and find you." Gwen discerned her surroundings. She mid-air and gravitating towards a deadly bout of aerial combat with a dark, all-consuming sun of void controlled by a psychotic grandma. "I am safe," Gwen lied. "Don't worry about me. I'll join you guys soon." "Alright." Her cousin's voice was full of relief. "I hope the Message Towers stay active— keep me posted if anything happens. I am at the Strathfield interchange; we're trying to get the NoMs as far away from the CBD as we can." "Richard, wait!" "Yes?" "How's Percy?.. and Dad?" "Percy is holding together pretty well. Huang and company should be at the estate by now. As for your dad, I can't say I know." "Thanks." Gwen didn't want to pursue to the matter any further, at least for now. "See you soon." "Okay." The reactivation of the Message Towers brought new hope, as well as anxiety for Gwen. Bidden by a naive faith, she held the device and dialled in the Glyph for Yue. An unwelcome silence informed Gwen that Yue's augur-band was either out of range or no longer existed. "Jesus!" Gwen shielded her eyes. Another enervating burst of foul energies erupted from the Black Sun, matching the depressing her heart, matching her breath with perfect synchronisation. Shielding the eyes had been a good idea; without warning, a tremendous, fiery mass now gathered. The mass that consolidated above the Tower was larger than anything Gwen had ever seen nor experienced. A raging ball of plasma over a dozen meters across! Like a shooting star, the meteor shot toward the void-sun, light and shadow meeting in antagonistic disharmony. Gwen's hopeful jubilation was short-lived, in the next minute, she witnessed the dissolution of the fiery cataclysm into the maw of the shadowy sun. Even with the dark orb significantly diminished, its consuming void persisted in its intensity, vexing the city with its vampiric rays. In the aftermath, there remained a flaming Efreet. Alesia! Gwen's eyes glowed electric with intensifying emotions, inspirited by the glorious sight of a fiery Alesia. If her Sister-in-craft had survived, then surely her friends as well! Then once again, the reality of her companion's desperate battle darkly dawned upon Gwen. If Alesia's meteor couldn't defeat Elizabeth, if Gunther, who had instantly dismembered enemies that had toyed with Gwen, couldn't overcome Elizabeth - then what could she do? Her highest level of offensive spell remained Lightning Bolt. Even empowered by Almudj, she had only mortally wounded Faceless, not blasted him into atomic dust. Even now, her Divination Sigil reeled with horrid foreshadowing. Her stolen powers of premonition howl out the writing on the wall, the vision within the crystal ball. It wasn't as though her Void spells worked on Elizabeth. Her Conjuration spells were at best tier 4. Her Evocation remained woefully low at tier 3. Most importantly, Caliban and Ariel couldn't fly. Only a moment ago, the Void-sun had just swallowed a high-tier, strategic class Evocation of mass destruction, further empowered by Alesia's absurd Affinity with Elemental Fire. For herself, even with Almudj's aid, her Lightning was at best an Affinity in the high six to eight. She was just an intermediary; Gwen realised— she wasn't a force of nature. She wasn't even an emissary, like those druidic masters of European lore. She was merely someone lucky enough to possess a smidgen of the Mythic's essence, a fox borrowing the tiger's terror. "Kin." As if sensing her despair, Almudj's resonate telepathy made its presence known, the intensity of its consciousness the scorching heat of the sun-baked clay. "What do I do? Almudj?" Gwen felt stupid asking the Mythic, but she didn't know what else to do. As much as she was willing to join the fray, she wasn't the hot-headed Alesia, to whom victory was predetermined, and defeat merely meant one should try harder. "Sing," came the reply, accompanied by a deep and resonate breeze that transformed into the thrum of rolling thunder building toward cacophony. "Dream." The serpent's telepathic speech was echoed by a sound of chanting, joined by the stamping of feet. From nowhere, she heard the low song of the didgeridoo, saw the bright colour of body-paint in earthly-ochre, red-rust and bone-white. From thin air birthed the crispy clasp of the watering stick, clap, clap, clap and the undulating chant of Kapi! Kapi! Kapi! A surge of vital, emerald energy flowed from the Kirin amulet, suffusing her body, empowering the Dream. Round and round the corroboree went, circles within circles. She was there, amidst the gathering, moving her body, a migloo ghost swaying to the beat of the thumping cadence. Faster and faster they went. The material world grew undefined, the edges of figures above and below her, in front and below her, less distinct. Here was the Unformed Land. Here was where all the world began. "Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!" There was the sudden sound of crashing thunder, the snare-drum hush of rain as archery, the pitter-patter kiss of dewdrops. She was Singing the Snake, bringing the tempest. The Dreaming was a ritual of understanding the world; of making real that which was unreal and insubstantial through the telling of a tale. It was the language of creation, the grammar of its great stories. It was the beginning of knowledge, from which came the laws of the world. It was the old-time of the ancestor beings, and the new-time of the children, whose dreams made the world rainbow-hued. Serpents and Suns. Suns and Serpents. Gwen knew not what magic compelled Almudj, but she knew it wasn't the compulsion of elemental energies channelled by Sigils. It was older, more ancient; it was an act of the world, an act of creation and annihilation. She knew not what mythology this world's people followed, but she had known many mythoi of her own. She knew now what to do. "Almudj," Gwen felt her mind intimately linked with the vastness of the serpent's own, connected by the moment of shared Dreaming. "You must swallow the Black Sun. What belongs to the earth, must return to earth. The usurper will be expelled." A sweeping scent of briny air flowing across endless coastlines affirmed the telling of her story to the Rainbow Snake. She felt the residual energy of the Kirin amulet suffuse the air, manifesting into the Dreaming, calling upon the serpent, bridging the space between Uluru and the Tasman Sea. In a second, her supernatural vitality drain away, the connection she'd shared with Almudj grew less intimate. Beside her now was the crude platform of the spell-beaten Tower, the collateral damage of battle on full display. Above Gwen, Alesia was wrestling with an elemental force that was impeding her mobility. Gunther moved to shield her, but the two became caught by dark tendrils that laid in wait for them. A pressure began to build overhead. The troposphere grew dense with moisture as elemental mana began to swirl. Gwen's storm was coming. Gwen quickly fired off a Message spell to her Brother-in-Craft, still trapped within the tendrils. "Gunther! We have to leave this place— NOW! The serpent is coming!" "Gwen?" came the reply. "What Serpent?" "No time to explain! Get ready!" Gwen drew upon what little power that remained. "Barbanginy!" she incanted. A bolt of emerald lightning shredded the dark strands of void-tendrils enveloping Gunther and Alesia. Still entwined, her siblings' smoking form tumbled from the sky. Whatever had been attacking Alesia must have sensed that it was no match for the primal might of Almudj, for Gwen bore witness to the improbable scene of a female Djinn tearing itself from Alesia and dematerialising into the Elemental Plane of Fire. With the rabid Djinn gone, Gunther resumed control of his Flight spell. The Paladin of Sydney Tower cradled the semi-conscious body of Alesia in his arms and turned to regard Gwen, who was levitating in the air. "How are you flying?" he asked incredulously, drifting closer. "No time!" Gwen stressed, pleading with her eyes. "Gunther, you need to take us out of here now!" Improbably, the cloudless sky began to thunder and shower at once. Gunther looked up, bewildered by the turn of events. "What's that up there?" "Gunther!" Gwen's voice became several octaves higher. The Radiant Mage reached out and took Gwen's arm, pulling her closer. "How far?" "As far as we can go!" Gunther channelled his contingency mana reserves. "Teleport!" Just as Gwen and her company reappeared just over a kilometre away, a vortex of water began to form above the dark sun. As if sensing the imminent danger, thousands of tendrils sprouted from its surface, moving to intercept the rapid descent of the primal force that now propelled towards it. A serpentine head emerged from the swirling vortex, materialising as it moved downward with the ponderous, unstoppable force of a natural calamity. Its scales scintillated, casting a rainbow hue over the darkened landscape, illuminating the failing light of the late afternoon sky with a dazzling play of colour. Then the rest of its body materialised, kilometres of it, stretching upward until it disappeared into the stratosphere. Almudj opened its maw. Its jaws distended. The dark sun hovered helplessly for a moment, gazing upon the beginning and end of the universe. From everywhere, Almudj's maw enveloped the Black Sun. Alesia stirred in Gunther's arms; her eyes widened when she saw their new companion. "Gwen?!" "Alesia, you're hurt!" As much as Alesia wanted to converse with Gwen about the when, where, how, and who; she couldn't. Her attention had been entirely usurped by the spectacle of a Mythic, kilometres in length, swallowing an enervating sun. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "What…" "It's the Rainbow Serpent," Gwen said appreciatively. "Almudj has come to help us." "It has a name?" Alesia marvelled, wincing at the effort of making even the most minute of exertions. Before them, Almudj was coiling upon itself, collecting its gargantuan form into a coil. It looked to be settling in for a vigorous digestive session. "Tired." Gwen heard Almudj's voice within her head, accompanied the by the soft, sinking feeling of bubbling mangroves. "Rest now, Almudj," she said to the looming presence, so large that it hurt her eyes. Gunther and Alesia both stared at Gwen, Gunther's expression magnitudes more exaggerated than Alesia's. Gwen smiled coyly in response. "Are you communicating with it?" Gunther inquired breathlessly. Gwen wasn't sure what the correct answer might be, but she trusted Gunther enough to give him the truth. "We have a connection." She nodded. Gunther flushed with apprehension. As Paladin, threats had to be contained. "Gwen, do you know what this…" Before Gunther could complete his astonishing acclamation, he was interrupted by two Message spells that bloomed beside his ear. "Shit!" Gunther cursed. "Gwen, if you can communicate with the serpent, tell it to leave, right now!" "Wha—" Gwen was taken back by the sudden turn. "Oh no," Alesia intoned weakly beside Gwen. She too, had received her Messages. "Gwen, you have to tell it to go at once!" The trio suddenly found themselves in shadow. Above them, there was a shuddering of space - a tear in the material plane. There was a sound of air displacing violently. Two immense structures shot into existence; shunted into being via the expenditure of an unimaginable volume of crystal reserves. The first Tower to appear was Brisbane, headed by Magister Fei Lin, the Battle Mage of the Grey Faction. Unlike the Sydney Tower, whose brutalist architecture favoured simplicity and uniformity, the Brisbane Tower was a verdant, towering modern structure of transmuted glass reinforced by rings of banded steel. The entirety of its exterior inundated with plant life, from vines to palms, to towering figs that grew between the greenhouses. The second to materialise was the Melbourne Tower, one of the first Australian Towers to be constructed. Unlike the Brisbane, its structure was a long-bodied monastery with four elegant sandstone spires that soared toward the heavens. Stained glass depicting scenes of valour covered every facet of its vaulted halls. Where the other Towers had favoured height, the Melbourne Tower favoured length and girth; it sat atop a massive rocky platform kept afloat with embedded enchantments and carved into the stonework, altogether shaped like a sword. Its headmaster, Guldric Uther, was the fabricator responsible for overseeing the construction of Towers and Shield Stations, a veteran battle-master of the Warring Faction. "Lin! Uther! Stand down!" Gunther shouted into the Message spell. It was a grievous miscalculation on Gunther's part. In the chaos of the moment, however, Gunther's warning came too late. As expected, neither Tower listened to Gunther's eleventh-hour commands. Even if they had heeded the Paladin's warning, the chain of command remained firmly in the hands of each Tower's headmaster. Unlike Sydney Tower, these flying fortresses were fully operational the moment they shifted into existence. Upon their decks and battlements, a full roster of just under a thousand Mages manned their arnaments and spires, operated its engines, infirmaries, and artifices. Instantly, decahedron rings of complex glyphs powered up atop each of the Tower's spires. Mandalas dozens of layers in thickness, activating a powerful Abjuration barrier that would protect the Tower's Mages from external attacks. Onc the shield was in place, a cascade of spells began to flow from the Tower's battlements and spires, its range and damage empowered by the inbuilt enchantments of the battle-fortress. Explosions rocked the surface of Almudj's scales, sending shimmering shockwaves through the serpent's body. Almudj roared, a booming cry rolling across the heavens, churning the blue sea below a frothy white. It hissed at these human-made structures, striking at them with buffeting wind and rain. A bolt of emerald lightning crashed against the Melbourne Tower, scattering across the shield and showering its inhabitants with harmless sparks. "Jesus, Gunther." A sultry female voice announced itself audibly around the trio. "Your city's a right mess. Where's this Black Sun Eric kept harping on about?" "We're going to need to work together if we want to take this thing apart." Uther's gruff voice came through, his baritone cutting through the noise. "It's bloody gigantic. You'll be cleaning up the harbour for weeks." As the first spell stabbed into Almudj's scales, Gwen felt a sharp pain in her bosom as though someone had forced an ice-pick under her fingers and was in the process of degloving her hand. Whatever the serpent had felt from the assault was being transferred directly to her via their empathic link. Gwen cried out in alarm and clasped her head between both her hands. "Gwen!" Gunther cursed, rapidly attempting to explain the situation to the Magisters of each Tower. Sensing her distress and agony, Gwen felt the connection between her and the serpent diminish. As if in response to her loss of favour, the charmed "air" which had held Gwen aloft likewise dispersed. Gwen felt a sudden lurch; suddenly, she was very aware that she was half a kilometre up. "Gunther!" Her brother-in-craft caught her mid-fall. Gwen felt Gunther's forceful arm support her midriff, his fingers roughly digging into her skin. Before she could thank him, they began to descend. The weight of two additional women was too much for the Flight buff. A look passed between Gwen and Gunther, but neither made a move to comment. "Gwen, get the snake to leave, now!" Gunther pivoted to the crisis at hand. "Almudj!" Gwen begged for the serpent to flee. "Go! Leave this place!" Almudj replied with a vision of wildfires, flaming tornados and ravaging lightning strikes raining across a verdant jungle. If these usurpers wanted to harm its life, then it would return them to the earth. "No!" Gwen pleaded. "Almudj, you must go! Please! You cannot defeat them!" Gwen had recalled Alesia stating that a Battlemaster of the Ten could, with the aid of a Tower, take on a mythical beast. While Gwen had a feeling that Almudj was likely more potent than a millennia year old Dragon, she was in no mind to test that hypothesis; not now, and hopefully not ever. In her mind, Almudj was nature, a part of the landscape, akin to an ancient, sentient continent. It had no contest with humanity, at least not until Elizabeth and her ilk tried to steal its egg. It had no reason to involve itself with the city until Gwen had begged it to come and destroy the usurper. Almudj would have been perfectly happy, entirely blissful, even if man wiped themselves from the face of the oceanic continent entirely. She did not want the creature to become a pariah, another victim of her people's selfish conflicts. "Almudj!" Gwen pleaded. "Please go! Go home to the place where all rivers began, never return to the land of man!" "Hold your fire!" Gunther roared into the Message Spell. "The creature is not hostile to us! It just ate the Void Mage and the Black Sun!" "Absurd!" Uther's voice came across with annoyance. "No such beings exist!" The mythical serpent moved its body upward. To the surprise of both Tower's Magisters, it did not attack them. Instead, it found a safe space between the Towers and began to lift itself toward the sky. "I am standing down," Lin announced. "Walken confirmed your story." "That man's word is worth less than Goblin shit." Uther's voice had a barking quality to it that reminded Gwen of a bloodhound. "I don't give a shit what you think." Lin's voice was relaxed and tempered. "Is this the right time? Sydney's just been in one hell of a tiff. Whatever happens to Walken after this, let me first apologise on behalf of our Faction. We got a lot of rebuilding ahead." "Hmmph!" Uther was far from pleased. As both Tower's ceased their barrage, the colossal serpent raised its majestic head and ascended into the air. As sudden as it had appeared, it dispersed into fragments of scintillating light, forming a rainbow that spanned the space between the two levitating towers. It was a surreal sight. Only a few minutes prior they were locked in mortal combat— now the scene resembled a vision from Elysium. "Goodbye, Almudj," Gwen intoned beside them, barely audible. Gunther's steely eyes fell to the two of them, his voice low and severe. "Gwen, whatever happens, everything about the snake is between you, Alesia, and I." Gwen nodded. That was the way she wanted it. Alesia likewise nodded weakly, her body boneless and wasted in Gunther's cradled arms. Her long lashes fluttered and were still. It had been a long day for all of them, but especially so for Alesia. "Is Elizabeth alive?" Gunther questioned Gwen. "Could she have escaped?" Gwen shook her head. "I don't know. Almudj couldn't say. In Almudj's eyes, we're all usurpers of the land. The only thing I can confirm is that Almudj took everything that was in the Void-sun." "That doesn't tell us much." "No, I am afraid." Gunther's expression remained rigid until he forced himself to take a deep breath. When he next spoke to Gwen, her craft-sibling's voice was much softer. "No, it's fine. Whatever happened, Sobel's lost all her profit, thanks to you. All that vitality, all that power, all taken by your snake friend. I'd wager the initiation of that ritual took a lot out of her." "Almudj," Gwen interjected softly. "Hmm?" "Almudj, that the name of the serpent." Gunther rolled the name in his mouth a few times. "Keep it close to your heart, Gwen. The name of a Mythic being holds great power, and it gives power to the one who can invoke it. If Almudj can hear your voice, if you have that connection, then that is a rare thing which many others would covet." Gwen agreed. "Can you call upon it again? What are the costs?" Gunther enquired carefully. Gwen's hand moved subconsciously to the Kirin pendant, where only a mite of Almudj's elemental essence remained. "I don't think so," Gwen replied with a voice full of forlorn loss. "A shame," Gunther intoned sagely. "But perhaps, it is for the best. For yourself, and for Almudj." Gwen was in full agreement with Gunther. Almudj was not a creature their world deserved. Now that the danger was over, the trio descended slowly; soon they would land upon the shattered steps of the Sydney Tower to inspect the true extent of the damage. Still held safely in Gunther's arms, Gwen placed her head on Gunther's chest, feeling the heat of his body against the chilling wind blowing in from the sea. "It's just us now," Gunther's voice quivered just a little. The man was right. Gwen reflected solemnly. For the three of them, for the students of Henry Kilroy, the legacy of Elizabeth Sobel would be the fateful chain that bound them. They would have no peace, no solace, no restful sleep; until they hunted her down and offered her head on a silver platter to the Mageocracy. "Cold?" Gunther asked, and Gwen nodded demurely. "Alright, lets land and get a hot cuppa," Gunther replied. "Its been a long day." Gunther Shultz loathed loose ends. The Paladin of Sydney watched as the medical staff bundled away Alesia on a levitating stretcher; Gwen followed her sister-in-craft, wrapped in a thick blanket and nursed by a cup of cocoa. The girls were safe, and he finally had the privacy necessary to think about the despoiled future. Below the Melbourne Tower, dusk had brought the dying light of day. The city of Sydney, so-called the crown jewel of Oceania, the most prosperous of the Frontier Cities, was now a husk of its glorious past. Above its ruined facade, three Towers hovered; their empowered 'Light' beams long white fingers groping for targets in the darkness below. From the CBD, columns of oily clouds rose from destroyed skyscrapers and looted suburbs, punctuated by the sound of Evokers at their terrible labour. In the space between the Towers and the city, flights of Combat Mages in groups of fives and sixes swept the perimeter, occasionally stopping to put out a fire, or start a new one. Gunther tasted the acrid, burning air pinching his tongue. The city wouldn't be safe for the foreseeable future. Mermen hid in the sewerage, in nooks and crannies of the city that would remain flooded until discovered and drained like abscesses. NoMs were supposedly rioting in districts where they felt unhappy and oppressed, making them no-go areas for the rescue corps. Tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of civilians required medical treatment. There there were innumerable people, NoMs and Mages, still trapped under rubble, collapsed passages, byways and highways. There was the unenviable task of rebuilding the Shielding Station. The endeavour of reconstructing the infrastructure. The political obstacle course of repopulating the city with new migrants, both Mages and compliant NoMs. The labour would take years, perhaps even a decade. Gunther hated to admit it, but Elizabeth had proven a terrible point: That the Towers were the answer, they were also its greatest weakness. Inside its ivory halls, the best of them had lacked conviction, while the worst of them had been full of passionate intensity. As a gentry Magus who had spent his childhood in a Tier 1 city; Gunther feared the future wasn't going to go swimmingly. In the short term, it would be faster, and safer, to simply move the city's precious cargo of Mages to the nearest Tier 1 city. In contrast, the NoMs would remain to rebuild under the watchful eye of a Military Government. Sydney would be a city ruled by Martial Law until its zones were deemed safe enough for human habitation. By that same virtue, the repaired Tower would need a new Master. Walken was going to be lucky if he escaped permanent Stasis; Ferris lacked the gall to become the militant leader of a Frontier city. The other Magisters were busy with their domains, which left Gunther himself to apply for the position. But Gunther wasn't a Magister— yes, his combat abilities far exceeded the average Magister. With Uther's vote and a few supporting tickets from the Middle Path Faction, there should be no questions as to his ascension. But did anyone want to assume the responsibilities of a broken city? Gunther realised that he did. Here was his home, his Master's city, and he would see it thrive once more. His thoughts then turned to his sisters-in-craft. Alesia's physical body would need both magical healing and physical therapy. Her astral body would need re-tempering and time. She had done more than what was necessary for the defence of the city, and he would ensure that she received the best medical attention that the Mageocracy offered. At that moment when she'd almost perished, he'd felt genuine distress, a heart-rending regret that he couldn't give her the happiness she so wanted while she lived. Perhaps, Gunther thought solemnly to himself; it was time. He wasn't getting any younger, and Alesia would likely duel a competitor d'amour to the death. He was confident that Henry would have approved, happy even, that someone could finally keep an eye on his wayward daughter. As for Gwen, Gunther's feelings were ambivalent. These crises that seemed to emerge one after another, all of them seem to somehow orientate around Gwen. First, his Master decides to take her on as a protege; then she became involved with Mark Chandler. When that was said and done, his Master wanted Gunther and Alesia to welcome their youngest Sister-in-craft. To ensure that Gwen had a smooth progression, they orchestrated the whole Inter-High fiasco, where the intimate involvement of his Master ultimately led them this dark place. But blaming the girl was absurd, Gunther knew, even though he couldn't help feeling jaded by the coincidences that revolved around Gwen's uprising. She was like the proverbial black cat— all who crossed her path become victims of bane and boon. "No." Gunther took in a breath of crisp, cold air to clear his thoughts. If his sister-in-craft hadn't appeared in the eleventh hour, they would probably be all dead, and the Towers would be now fishing for their cold corpses in the ruined city below. He should be thankful to Gwen, for her sacrifices and her actions, whatever they may be, in bringing the serpent to their aid. Whatever had occurred, the city owed Gwen an irredeemable debt. But all of that would have to wait, for the fires in the city still burned long and bright. It was over. The invasion wasn't over, but for Gwen, whatever troubles of the city below no longer concerned her. Now she could focus on the tasks that mattered. Yue. Elvia. Whetu. She was sure that they yet lived. If Alesia could have escaped the Grot, then surely her friends could have fled its collapse also. She wanted desperately to shake Alesia awake and demand to know how she survived, where her friends may be; but her sister-in-craft had fallen limp in Gunther's arms, too spent to remain lucid. She now sat in the Melbourne Tower's hospital bays. To the physician's surprise, Gwen had a perfect bill of health. Much to the shock of the healers: she was the most hale person they had ever seen. When the physician persisted in inquiring if she would mind participating in some tests, Gwen fled the room and joined Alesia in her private quarters. Her friend and mentor, however, would have many months of recovery ahead. As the last night died, Gwen sat beside Alesia, waiting impatiently for the sorceress to recover from the milk of poppies and other semi-magical potions and poultices used to treat her. Now alone with her thoughts, she was once again reminded of the last twelves hours. Scene by scene, her mind worked through the cataclysmic change that had overcome her peaceful life with such violence and velocity. Her Master— dead. Her friends— disappeared. Her Sister-in-craft— mortally wounded. Her city— a ruined hell-scape of malicious Mermen, rioting NoMs, and loose magical creatures. Herself— an avenger who had taken the satisfying morsel of blood-debt with a smiling face. More than ever, she felt lost and without direction. Yet, where does she go from here? What would the future hold? All she could think of was wanting to rush off to save Yue and Elvia, and she didn't even know where or how. A Message spell bloomed beside her face. Gwen answered it quietly. "… Opa?" The voice that came through was the gruff tenor of a moustachioed angel. "Gwen, my little Cucu Perempuan! Are you alright? Tell Opa that you're alright!" Suddenly, Gwen didn't feel so strong, so stoic, so powerful. She felt her eyes becoming cloudy with unbidden emotions that were no longer in her control, her chest heaved; she could keep it inside no longer. "Oh…" She began, "O Opa..."

Consciousness dawned. Gwen swivelled with haste to wakefulness that she gave herself mild whiplash. She met the surprised expression of the nightshift nurse, one hand still hovering over her shoulder. "S-sorry," Gwen mumbled, lifting her head off the bed. Her eyes blinked, still puffed from the exhaustive emotions of last night. When a silver thread of drool lingered between herself and Alesia's sheets, she reddened with mortification. Together with her dishevelled hair, it gave her a pitiable, tragic air. "There's a foldout bed in there, sweetie." The nurse, a middle-aged blonde woman with a gentle face, stifled a mirthful chuckle and pointed her to the guest's couch. They were in a VIP room reserved for executives and thus, the furniture allowed for overnight stays. It wasn't unusual for loved ones, Apprentices, or close associates to desire the opportunity to remain watchful over the patient. "Thank you." Gwen removed herself from the bedside. It must be early morning now, for a soft phosphorescent escaped the drawn curtains. In a few hours, the new day's sun would shed its light on the full extent of the disaster below. The nurse patiently recorded the biometric readings of Alesia's condition before turning to Gwen. "Do you want something to eat, hon? We have a full-time kitchen down the hall. There's an officer's mess on the second level as well." Gwen intended to decline, mindful of Alesia, but the motherly matron's reminder signalled to her subconsciously that she hadn't eaten since the morning. They were supposed to be having a luncheon after the Rosebay challenge, and now it was the next morning. She had gone without food for a full seventeen hours. When her stomach loudly protested, the nurse couldn't help but audibly chuckle. "Come on then." she inclined her head. "It's just downstairs and across the hall. I'll take you over." Gwen stood and followed the nurse. "My, you're a tall one!" the woman remarked as they proceeded down the hall. "You might want to get a fresh change of clothes. The canteen's a real riot of folks at the moment. Mostly junior officers." It was then that Gwen registered that she was still wearing the loose robe she had slung over her body after her gleeful murder of Faceless. It was still speckled with dark blood, especially when combined with the hospices' slippers. If she sauntered into the mess right now, she would resemble an asylum escapee. "Yes, I'll change first, thank you." The nurse smiled gently and directed her to a suitable changeroom, sliding herself between the narrow doors into a mirrored cubicle. She pulled the robe from her body and stored it within her ring, then wiped herself down with a wet towel. The cubicle had a tall mirror that ran the length of the door frame, within which she could see herself. Against all expectation, she appeared hale and well-toned, different from the anorexic body she had inhabited for the last six months. It was the gift of vigour from Almudj, whose restorative essence had given her a new lease on life. How long would it last this time? She wondered. How many Void spells could she sustain before she appeared spent once more? Sobel had seemed immune to the bane of negative enervation. As for herself, who knew? She raised a hand and touched the jade Kirin around her neck, caught between the swell of her modest breasts. Its texture was smooth and fleshy in the manner of lamb-fat jadeite, cosy, like her flesh and blood. The Amulet was another secret to unravel in the days to come. Putting her thoughts aside, Gwen sorted through the folded piles of clothing held in stasis. With consideration for the company of stone-faced Mages and crisply-uniformed officers, she opted for the penguin-coloured dress she'd worn for Rosebay. Her Mary Janes, now a veteran of many crisis and combats, had seen better days. The shit these shoes had seen— Gwen puckered her lips. Maybe one day the pair would awaken as an enchanted pair of sentient shoes. I have no mouth, and I must scream, and all that. While she brushed out her shoulder-length hair, coiling the dark cascade into a convenient braid, she an unbidden thought struck her chest. According to Faceless, Debora had been dead since a year ago. If so, who was going to tell Debora's parents and how should they recount it? Would a kindly worded letter from the Frontier government suffice? Debora's parents were well aware that their daughter was best friends with her, and had even seen lumen-pictures of the two of them, cowboy hats and all, hanging out arm-in-arm in the outback. Just the thought of those moments made her ill. With a wave of her hand, Gwen collected her towels, her clothes and her makeup, packing away her troubled thoughts along with the miscellanea. After a final inspection of her reflection, she left the changing stall and made for the canteen. The mess hall wasn't far from the VIP wards, accessed after descending a set of stairs and traversing through the corridors. The galleries of the Melbourne Tower were created for utility rather than security, focused upon the pragmatic delivery of goods and services to the frontline Mages. The section which Gwen inhabited was reserved for officers, with the medical wards situated on the lower floor, a few corridors from the junior officer's shared quarters, while the senior officers had their quarters on the second floor. The nurse had been right. Gwen heard the noise before she'd even neared the rowdy premise. When she'd arrived, engineers, soldiers, medical staff and officers packed the mess to the rafters. Food was served buffet style in heated trays. Beside each counter, a loose line of hungry Mages made their way through the selection, primarily congregating near the roasts. Curious eyes rose from saucy plates to regard Gwen as she entered, surprised to see someone of her age present within a Monastery-Fortress of Melbourne Tower. A few of them grinned, making her doubt herself. The bacon looked good, however, and so she ignored their enquiring looks. Retrieved a tin tray, she proceeded to gather a towering assortment of toast, muesli, yoghurt and packets of fruit preserves. When she passed the bacon line, she again felt her skin crawl. Was it her Divination Sigil? As a novice, she couldn't tell. A few chuckles exchanged amongst the junior officers, then much to her chagrin, one of the young men began making his way over. Gwen found a table that was already seated and placed her tray upon the stainless steel benchtop. The already seated soldiers were pleased to see a teenage girl joining them, but then noticed the young man purposely approaching them. The junior officer must be somebody— because the men and women around her left their seats without so much as a glance. Gwen cursed. Lower her head; she hoped that appearing so engrossed in her breakfast that the man would surely take the hint and realise that conversation was undesired. A looming shadow appeared over her buttered toast. Without a clang, the young man sat across from her, placed his hands under his chin, and stared at her intently. The presumptuous officer wasn't a bad-looking sort, but she was hardly in the mood. The single stripe of blue-on-navy by his collar indicated his rank as Pilot Officer, likely one of the Aerial Combat Mages stationed within the Tower. Gwen knew most of the young Mages stationed in the Sydney Tower, which meant this particular junior officer was either from Melbourne or Brisbane. "Hey." the young man split his lips to reveal a set of gleaming teeth. "The name's Daniel. What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Gwen wasn't a novice in the art of the insufferable "pickup". She could read his braggadocio like a cheap book. Usually, she would move away or politely bear with the unwanted attention, but she was in no mood to be pushed around by some entitled imbecile. She looked up from her plate and met his eyes, channelling a little lightning to her eyes so that her iris took on an intimidating electric hue. She raised a piece of toast in one hand, and without breaking eye contact, proceeded to butter it. "If you don't speak English, I've got a Translation Stone you can borrow." Gwen followed up by patiently lathering strawberry jam over the toast. She folded the bread over and delivered the calorie infused morsel to her mouth. Still maintaining eye contact, she chewed. Daniel held his composure, but when his friends began to snigger, his patience was at an end. "You know, it's rude to ignore someone who's speaking to you. Who's your Master? I ought to have a word about your manners." Gwen's eyes glowed. A static charge passed between the metallic benchtop and the offending heckler. Daniel tore his hands from the table as though bitten by something fierce, tumbling backwards and tripping over his seat. With a clang that drew every eye from the room, the junior officer fell onto his elbows and made a right spectacle of himself. "You little bitch!" He spat, climbing up on all fours. "How dare you! I am an officer of the Frontier Aerial Service!" Gwen felt such ire simmering at her throat that she was confident murder was an option she was willing to consider. Her eyes, two vehement orbs full of malice, was ready to swallow the young man whole. With a word, she'd all on Caliban, and then— "Oi! Miss Song doesn't want to speak to you," they were interrupted by another junior officer. This one added a quick, "Sir" after glancing at her harasser's lapels. Gwen swallowed the murder rising in her chest, and regarded the three who'd come to her aid. She was surprised to find that she knew these young officers. The one who had spoken was Julius, one of the young men she'd often conversed with on her trips to visit Master Henry. "Out of my way, Cadet," Daniel spat. "I have business with that girl." "I am afraid I can't do that, Sir," Julius said again. The other two beside him stood lockstep with the cadet. Watching the spectacle, someone in the crowd asked his neighbour who might this 'Ms Song' be. Another turned to address the questioner. "Lord Henry's protege." "The late Lord Kilroy?" "The very same." A few of the watchers took on expressions of schadenfreude. "Poor Hopkins, there goes his promotion. Wait til Lord Gunther hears about this." "Oh shit." "He's dogmeat." "Rest in pieces." Her harasser's face turned ashen. Gwen wondered if now was a good time to brush the matter off. There were Mermen below and a city to be Purged. "Hopkins! Stand down!" a voice familiar to Gwen called out from the corridor. "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Hopkins snapped to attention, his subliminal training kicking in. The rest of the canteen likewise stood to attention as a man badged with triple stripes, two broad and one thin, entered the mess. A secondary insignia with a stave and two entwined serpents showed that the officer hailed from the medical corps. As the crowd parted, the military Mages moved to salute, while the civilian Mages stood aside to show their respect. "Major!" Daniel Hopkins stood ramrod straight, sweat already beading on his forehead. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. The moustachioed officer turned his seawater-eyes toward Gwen and gave her a benevolent smile. "Jonas!" Gwen uttered in surprise. "You're here!" "How could I not be?" Jonas replied. "I am sorry I couldn't be there when it all went down." "I am sorry too." Gwen sighed, brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face. Her voice became low and ridden with guilt. "Alesia's badly hurt." "I know, we're here to see if there's anything we can do." "We?" Two more figures appeared behind Jonas, edging through the crowd. "Paul! Taj!" "Gwen! Good God, am I glad you're alright!" Paul came through the crowd and embraced her, squeezing her tightly. "After I sent you guys through, we'd lost contact! I almost died from worry!" "I am alright right now, but…" Gwen squeezed the Conjurer back, feeling guilty that she had to be the bearer of bad news. "Yeah, I know." "Hey Sparky, I am glad you're alright." The Abjurer exchanged a hug with Gwen as well. "Thanks, Taj," Gwen returned the big man's hug. "Where's Billy?" "He's locked up with the intel division until all of this's cleaned up," Taj replied. "Else he'd be here in a heartbeat. You know he's still got the hots for you, right?" "Taj!" The men shared a good laugh at Gwen's expense. Through dozens of years apart, what they shared in common was a special love for Alesia. As Gwen and the decorated squad freely conversed, the crowd around them could no longer contain their curiosity. "Did you see that?" a voice spoke excitedly. "The girl's acquainted with Major Durn." "There's also Captain Phillip and Captain Mckay!" "You idiot, didn't you hear, she was the late Lord Henry's protege." "But Lord Kilroy's only got two…" "Use your brain!" Having exchanged pleasantries, Jonas turned to the petrified statue that was Daniel. "No rest for the wicked, Hopkins, you're on double duty for the next fortnight, is that understood?" "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Daniel's voice rose an octave higher. Any punishment was preferable to Lord Gunther's displeasure. "Dismissed!" Daniel snapped a salute and moved past them. He paused when he reached Gwen's side. The man bowed. Gwen nodded, embarrassed to be the centre of attention. "So, making trouble and its not even 6 AM." Jonas chuckled and pulled out the bench below them, offering Gwen her seat. "You want to join us in the upstairs mess? It's for senior officers, better food, better decor, less noisy." Gwen shook her head. "I was done anyway." "You should eat more! You're stick and bones! Put more meat on there like Alesia." A wane smile cracked across Gwen's lips. A female junior offer brought them tea and coffee, setting them down carefully beside each of them. Gwen was surprised to find that she was among that number. "So, a hell of a mess, huh." Paul began, "What'd you guys do?" Jonas went first, speaking about his experience during the entire ordeal. With the incoming Leviathan and the loss of Message Towers, he'd gathered up the men under his command and made for the CBD. There, they'd met up with other officers leading rag-tag bands of civilian militia and made a stand against the incoming tide of Mermen. As the conversation continued, Jonas admiringly spoke about seeing Gunther flitting about the city, as well as hearing a strange story about a masked Mage with the power of pink salt, saving civilians wherever he went. "You too?" Taj raised an eyebrow. "One of my junior officers said that she was saved by a Mage who changed the Mermen into pillars of pink salt." "Which one?" "Katie from the third ground division." "Oh, she's a nice gal, glad to know she's alright. Fantastic Transmuter, that one," Paul commented with a whistle. Their conversation skirted around the topic of Alesia for a while, with Gwen listening bemusedly to their military banter. "So, what happened to the Rosebay girls, the juniors, I mean?" Gwen asked Paul. "After you guys left, we holed up for a while. But when things started to get shaky, I used the emergency glyph key that Ferris left behind and opened up a Teleportation circle to their sister school, Lilith's." "Did everyone get out?" "Yeah, thank God. Lilith's three suburbs away from the Parramatta River, so they weren't flooded. They WERE hella surprised though when their teleportation circles fired up by themselves, though. Almost blasted us when we started appearing by the dozen." "What did you do afterwards?" "Tried my best to link up with the boys. Didn't find anyone, not with the Tower down." The group kept on with small talk for a while until Jonas paused mid-conversation to listen to a Message. The medical Mage turned to the table and stood from his chair. "Alesia's up." Gwen stood up so fast that the bench shot out behind her, almost tripping Paul as he tried to rise. "Let's go together," Jonas advised. The group followed. They made their way down the corridor and up the stairs until they reached the VIP ward. The very same nurse was clearing out a cart full of bandages and other medical supplies. She looked up to see Gwen and her company of ranking officers. "My, my, you cleaned up well." She beamed brightly at Gwen before turning to Jonas and tilting her head respectfully. "Doctor Durn." "Sister." Jonas nodded back. "Is Magus de Botton's condition optimistic?" The nurse said nothing. She handed over a chart clipped to her cart. Jonas' face turned a shade darker as his eyes scanned the report. "Jonas…" Gwen fought the acid reflux. "Let's go in." The four of them filed into the room. Alesia was leaning against a pillow, staring out the window through drawn curtains. Though early, the horizon outside had already taken on a warmer hue, casting the room in a soft, velvety shadow. The bed had been elevated, giving Alesia a comfortable incline upon which her head rested. The once vivacious Mage's lips were bloodless, her cheeks sallow and sunken, her bright eyes became buried in two dark, concentric circles. Gwen's eyes moistened. To see Alesia like this, so wasted and defeated, was heartbreaking. To think the first time she'd seen her, Gwen's thought Alesia the most beautiful, most vibrant woman she had ever seen in all her years. "Gwen, everyone." Alesia's sonorous and sultry voice now had an exhausted quality to it. "What happened?" Gwen questioned Jonas. "She wasn't this bad yesterday." Jonas sighed deeply and moved to the bed. "You always push yourself so hard…" he said softly. The other two were visibly disturbed as well. Palpably, the atmosphere grew despondent. "Jonas…" "It's soul burn," Jonas replied. "An advanced form of mana burn. When a Mage channels mana to manifest spells, they tap into the Astral Body, via the means of command Sigils, tapping into the elemental planes to empower the phenomenon. When mana burn occurs, unspent mana lingers in your astral body and causes physical harm to your body in the material realm." "Soul burn is when a Mage tries to over channel spells beyond their capacity and ends up exerting their Astral Body itself. When one's soul is damaged, the physical body grows frail and consumptive." "Is there a cure?" Gwen inquired anxiously. "Time and care," Jonas said, turning to Alesia. "Meaning no more combat for the foreseeable future." Alesia groaned. "I am serious," Jonas intoned sternly. Before Jonas could speak again, Gwen reached out with a trembling hand for Alesia. "Alesia," Gwen began. "Can you tell me if…" "The girls are alright," Alesia replied confidently, guessing Gwen's enquiry. "Whetu as well. They're in the Grot still." "They're alright?" Gwen asked sceptically. Alesia nodded. "Hypothetically, of course. What I mean is that I don't see why the trio wouldn't be alright, so long as they remain in the Grot." "Where are they now? Where's the Grot?" Gwen inquired desperately. She wanted nothing more than to teleport into the Grot right now and rescue her friends. Alesia's eyes fluttered with fatigue, becoming short of breath from the exertion of speaking. Jonas moved to support her back, channelling a gentle stream of positive energy into Alesia's torso. "Thanks, Jonas." Alesia breathed out. "Gwen, I say the girls are alright because the Grot is a real place, not a pocket dimension that collapses when the caster dies. What Master had created was a direct portal that led into the mystical home of the Dryads, Sufina's private sanctum. It's in a Black Zone." "A Black… Zone?" Alesia nodded. "A place not fit for human habitation." Gwen's distress mounted. "You said they were safe! If they're in a Black Zone…" "I know, let me finish." Alesia continued after a short pause. "Neither Gunther or I know where the Grot is exactly, but I know that it's in a place called Kapulauan Riau, an uninhabited island-chain off the coast of Singapore." Gwen's skin turned clammy. "That's… Mermen territory." She recalled her Geography lessons. Most of the cities of Micronesia and Indonesia peninsular was lost a decade ago. The only beacon of human civilisation there now was the port-city of Jakarta, as well as the most significant transport hub in Oceania - the Fortress city of Singapore. "Never fear, the Sprites who inhabit those islands are old and ancient. I would rather venture to say that they're worshipped by the Mermen, who trade them the treasures of the sea and the occasional human for Golden Mead." "What do they need humans for?" Gwen asked alarmingly. "Do they eat them?" Alesia's face took on a spot of colour. "Anyway," Alesia coughed. "Usually, when a conjured a creature loses its Master, it also loses its ego, its animus, together with important, shared memories. However, sentient creatures such as Dryads have independent memories that exist outside of the empathic link shared with the Conjurer. It means that as long as the girls remain in the Grot, Sufina should be caring for them as we speak." "And Whetu?" "He'll be… kept busy, I imagine." Gwen's quizzical look made Alesia roll her eyes. "What I am saying is that they're all safe, at least for a while. Dryads have long memories. As long as they don't try to exit the Grot, they'll be fed and kept plump and healthy until rescue arrives." "Presuming they stay put?" "Yes." "But Yue's with them." Gwen's stipulated point made Alesia think about her apprentice. Her eyes stared into the middle distance after masticating a few scenarios in her head. "They may be in immediate danger." Alesia's face took on a paler hue. "We need to rescue them as soon as possible!" "What's the fastest way to Singapore?" Gwen asked. "No!" Jonas lifted his hand from Alesia's back; the sorceress sagged back into the cushions. "You need to rest!" "Jonas, please…" Alesia begged. "No means no." Gwen looked from Jonas to Alesia. "I have to find them," she said sternly. "I don't know how, but I have to. I am beyond persuasion." "It's too reckless, Gwen!" Paul interjected. "Paul's right, you're just going on a suicide mission." Taj likewise offered his advice. Gwen felt taken aback by their logical apathy. "I need to go," she spat back at them, feeling a boiling, irrational resentment rising in her chest. "I'll go myself if I have to." "How?" Taj, who was more unmediated thanks to his Earthen element, snapped back at Gwen. "You have no ship, no power, no resource, no team. How are you going to go?" Gwen's fists balled on reflex. Suddenly, she wanted more than anything to punch Taj's face. Yue and Elvia. They were her friends! Her only family in this world! What was there to live for if not for the company of Yue and Elvia? Had it not been for them, she would have lost all hope in this second life, taken by the undertow of the Void. If only she could be like Alesia or Gunther— having the power and freedom to do what she needed! If she was powerful like Gunther, or even Alesia in her prime, she could fly off right now and save her friends. "Shut up!" Gwen felt her voice croak. Unbelievably, the frustration was causing her to tear up. "Shut up, please." Taj lowered his eyes. "I understand how you feel, but your wish is impossible." "How about..." Paul interjected. "We can't," Jonas cut off Paul's rhetorical question. "We have duties here." "But I can't leave them! I need your help!" Gwen pleaded. Her demand hung in the air, strangling the conversation until Alesia disrupted the awful tension. "Alright folks, listen to me." She spoke plosively, wincing she did so, pronouncing each of her words with forceful intent. "Taj, Paul, Jonas. I am asking you—" "Alesia…" Jonas began. "Shut up and listen," Alesia intoned assertively, demonstrating her famously short fuse. "I am not dead yet." Alesia took a deep breath. "Nothing gets past this room." Taj nodded. He formed a circular invocation with his hands. A clear mana shield sprang up around them, cutting off sound and contact from outside. "Gwen is the youngest apprentice of my Master." The three held their breath. "She is far more talented than me. She can access Conjuration, Evocation, Divination, even a bit of Transmutation." Three throats swallowed simultaneously. "She is in command of the Lightning element, as well as the Void." The men turned to Gwen for affirmation. The teenager nodded demurely. The men quaked. Alesia continued her merciless onslaught. "So listen well to what I am telling you now..." "One day, Gwen will become more important than all of us. One day— she will bear the legacy of my Master, become an Omni-Mage who will carry on the will of Noblesse Oblige. One day, she may be the Sorcerer Supreme who brings peace to our cities, mayhap even to humanity itself. Do you understand?" "Alesia, that's too much..." Gwen began, but Alesia cut her off. The exhausted Magus turned to face her teammates with eyes that were serious and purposeful. "But Gwen is not yet strong, just as I wasn't strong when you'd all first met me. When I needed help, I had you guys to back me up, to fill in for my weaknesses, to look out for me. You guys were my pillars." The men listened intently, their eyes filling with nostalgia and remembrance. "Gwen also has pillars," Alesia continued. "She has a kind and loving friend with a fiery temper, just like me, called Yue Bai." "You all know Yue and how fond I am of her. When I think of her, I think of myself when I was younger. Her talent is likewise extraordinary, and may one day exceed even mine. Assuming she has a chance to grow." "Gwen has another pillar, her spiritual and physical support, called Elvia Lindholm." "Elvia is sweet and innocent and loving; when you hold her in your arms and smell her hair, you can feel at peace. She is a restorative balm for the soul." Alesia had to take a deep breath before continuing. "Gwen cannot lose her supports. She cannot lose those girls, just like I cannot lose you guys. If any of you guys are in danger, if any of you are stuck in that Grot, I would jump off this bed right now and crawl over to Indonesia, do you understand?" The trio listened intently; a gust of dust must have blown into the room, for allergies simultaneously afflicted their eyes. "I can't tell you the specifics, but I am telling you right now, that were it not for Gwen, you'd all be dead. We owe her our lives, all of us! My life, your life, his life, Gunther's life, every Mage in the damn city! She did that for us, without asking for anything in return. So when I ask you to help Gwen, it is so that you and I can pay back just a little of that debt..." The room was silent but for the sound of Alesia's exhausted panting. Jonas was the first to reply, then the others followed earnestly. "I understand." "Me too." "Yes, Ma'am." "Good. I am tired." Alesia sunk back into bed, her face white as a sheet. "You ungrateful bastards almost killed me all over again." "Thank you." Gwen held Alesia's hand and kissed it. She raised the cold flesh and placed it upon her cheeks, where it became stained with the wetness escaping from her eyes. "Little fool," Alesia said quietly. "Take care of my men." "I will." The four of them watched Alesia once again fall asleep, her chest rising and falling with comfortable cadence. They filed out of the room and gathered in the corridor. "We're in your care." Jonas nodded solemnly towards Gwen. Gwen turned to the three of them and bowed deeply. Paul interjected, preventing her from making the full supplication. "We're all banking favours with a future Magister," the translocation specialist joked. "Anyway, we want to do this. For you, for Alesia, it's important to us." "I am glad I can help as well. I was feeling something awful back there," Taj confessed. "Though we're missing a number for a full party." Jonas tapped his fingers against his knees. "Don't get too ahead of yourselves," he warned them. "We still got a major hurdle ahead." The three turned to regard the Major. "What?" Jonas looked at them incredulously. "You don't think Lord Gunther is just going to let Gwen waltz into a Black Zone, do you?"

Gunther's temporary HQ found its home in the Melbourne Tower, where the residing Master, Guldric Uther, had been kind enough to lend the Sydney Mages a portion of his Tower as a Forward Operating Base. Upon her arrival, a plague of reporters was already beating down the door to the sanctum, swamping the Paladin. Thus far, the opinion of the press centred upon two narratives— one, that Gunther and the Tower have failed the city, two— that Gunther was a saviour wunderkind who pushed back the inevitable. Within the Tower itself, there was the matter of Walken's punishment, Henry's negligence over the issue of Elizabeth for the last three decades, and finally, the old Master's funeral. The funeral especially became a point of controversy, as some argued that a dead Magister served a perfect scapegoat. In response, Gunther promised retribution and blood for anyone who dared taint his teacher's obituary. With the death of their Master, the fact that Alesia and Gunther were Henry's pupils escaped into the public domain. As for Gwen, her inclusion among that number would wait, for the crisis and controversy of the moment would only serve to endanger her. For the interim, at least until Alesia was back in shape and Gunther could solidify his base, her anonymity offered the best protection. Likewise, the power vacuum left by the sudden department of two Magisters, both Henry Kilroy and Eric Walken, as well as the death of over a hundred Mages, opened up Tower positions which were salivated over by those whose aspirations had been stifled by the influence of the incumbents. Gwen walked behind the men as they approached the double doors to Gunther's office, appearing as an attaché to the Major and his two Captains. Quickly, the reporters parted. While Alesia's adventuring party wasn't as famous as the flame-hearted madcap sorceress herself; the reporters knew well that Major de Botton had fought beside Gunther Shultz and was mortally wounded. Still, some couldn't read the mood. "Major Durn, can you comment on the current condition of Magus de Botton?" "Captain, what is your opinion on the unknown phenomenon known as the Dark Sun?" "Major! How do you respond to accusations of negligence in duty on the part of Lord Kilroy?" "Captain!" "Major!" "Sir!" The group pushed through the reporters, whose keen noises could smell the story cascading off their uniforms. It was unfortunate then that none of them noticed the pretty girl demurely following the men, looking like a nervous intern. When they'd reached the entrance, two guards opened double doors to reveal Gunther at his table, inundated by a mountain of paperwork. The team passed through, then the doors boomed close behind them, cutting off the reporters. "Good to see you guys. Gwen, I am happy to see you've recovered." As he spoke, Gunther pulled himself away from the hilly terrain of crisis-reports with the expression of a crystal miner who's finally seeing the light. It was the first time Gwen had seen Gunther in such an officious capacity. The room that her brother-in-craft had appropriated was an impressive rectangle with tall, vaulted ceilings covered with murals of demons and angels. Behind the Paladin, twin bay windows looked out into the still smoking city below, a reminder of the man's precious time that they were taking up. With a word, Gunther waved away the men and women who'd been working through documents and memos and told them to take a coffee break while he sorted out some private matters. Several of the staffers looked toward Gwen with knowing familiarity written over their faces; one of them even acknowledged her presence and made a little nod. Gwen approached the table and bowed, causing the Radiant Magus to stand. Gunther skirted the table and gave Gwen a cordial embrace, telling her to be at ease and to treat the place as if her own. He then left the table and opened up the alcohol cabinet, pouring out several glasses for the gathered guest. The men received whiskey. Gwen received a glass of icy water. Gingerly, Gwen sipped the chilled water to calm her nerves. She waited until they were all settled in, then informed Gunther of her request. When the group had finished their tale, the Paladin fell silent. "All feeling and no brain, I'd thought you better than this, Gwen," Gunther noted displeasingly. "Now of all times, to send you away is something that complicates matters unnecessarily." "Gunther, I have to help them. I can't back down on that..." Gwen met the Magus' steely eyes with her own, trying her best to keep her tone controlled and tempered. She had already presented their case and now engaged the issue from another standpoint. "Besides, it's our Master's Grot! It has to be you, Alesia, or myself, and I'm the only one who's free. After all that happened, God knows what Sufina would do if strangers forced their way into the Grot. The place is special for all of us, if only because Sufi is our companion." Gunther clinked the ice in his glass. The atmosphere was reserved at best. Gwen and her companions nursed their drinks and held their breath while the gears turned in Gunther's head. "Fine," the Paladin said finally. The team breathed sighs of relief. If they were to leave without Gunther's blessing, the matter would be infinitely complicated. "But I am not letting you just go out there without some contingencies. You're still missing a member." "Who do you suggest?" Taj inquired, swishing the melted ice in his drained glass. Gunther motioned for the crystal decanter, but the Abjurer declined. "Someone close to Gwen, who knows how to keep a secret. Someone highly competent, capable and trustworthy, who wouldn't expose Gwen's secrets." "Surely you're not suggesting yourself?" Paul raises an eyebrow. While it would be pretty amazing to have Gunther himself joining them, it would come at a high cost to the city, to Gunther, and the Towers. Unlike Gwen, the de facto leader of the Sydney Tower can't just uproot himself in a crisis and go galavanting into a Black Zone. Gunther returned the half-glass of amber liquid to the mahogany table with an audible thunk. "I know the matter is urgent, and that you're desperate to leave." Gunther turned to Gwen. "But give me a day, at worst two, to sort out transport, identification and the location of your last member. For the time being, I highly recommend going to see your Grandfather. If you should recall, he was Master's squadmate. He can probably tell you more about Sufina, as well as the whereabouts of the Grot." Gwen felt sudden epiphany dawn upon her. She'd been so anxious over Gunther refusing their request to rescue her friends, that she'd completely forgotten about Surya! The Old Codgers Club had known each other since they were young men and women, serving in the Saurian Conflict and then through the Coral Sea War. Undoubtedly Opa could shed some light on the matter. "Thank you..." With a moist twinkle in her eye, Gwen allowed her next words flow over her tongue before allowing it to escape her parted lips. "Brother Gunther." Gunther paused for a barely perceptible moment; then his face broke into an earnest grin. "With one title, you've dug a hole I can't possibly escape from," he chuckled accusingly. "You're better than a Mind Mage, Gwen." "I am grateful, Gunther, Really," Gwen implored emotively. "Thank you for helping my friends." The rest of the group watched on with indulgent, tender faces. As Mages serving the Tower, they've all experienced the intimacy of becoming someone's brother-in-craft. Sometimes, a sibling rivalry sours when competing for the favour of their Masters. Other times, something beautiful is born - a bond of trust and camaraderie created from shared goals and convergent philosophies. "Come, sister." To Gwen's surprise, Gunther leaned across, opening his arms. Her astonishment lingered only a second before she wrapped her long arms around his broad waist. Though it was unfortunate that Gunther smelled as though he'd worked through the night, Gwen didn't mind. With her entire being, she welcomed the warmth of a brother with such an unshakable sense of responsibility and diligence for duty. "I am sorry about our Master." "I am too." When they parted, Gunther gingerly took Gwen by the arm. His bear-like mitts extended to hold her small white hand within his own as incanting a familiar invocation that Henry had performed in the past. A gentle glow suffused Gwen's body, and she felt something disappear within the realm of her astral body. "The… Geas?" Gwen marvelled. She had forgotten entirely about her Geas! It was by blind luck that she hadn't given up anything about her bond with the Rainbow Serpent, else things would have assuredly taken a turn for the worse. "Give me your Tracking Ring, Gwen." Gwen removed the Enchanted tracker from her ring finger. It was a gift from Henry that revealed her position when scried by a Diviner and placed it in Gunther's hands. Beside her, Gunther likewise removed a silver band from his fingers. "Don't let Alesia see this," Gunther joked. "Knowing her, she'd immediately misunderstand." Gunther's band was a loop of pure mithril, glinting with that distinct, mana dense aura specific to the ultra-rare mineral. Meeting at the apex of the crown was a priceless cats' eye that sat between tiny claw-footed mountings. "A Contingency Teleportation Ring," he announced. "Made with the core of an Evil-eye's optic Core." Beside him, the eyes of Taj, Paul and Jonas glowed with appreciation and desire. An item like this was like a second life. "If you are mortally wounded, the ring will teleport you to the closest Tower," the Magus explained. To their shock, Gunther slipped the ring onto Gwen's ring finger, where her tracker had been. "As usual, there's a tracking enchantment to allow for easy scrying from the Tower. Don't ever take it off. If you lose it without wilfully commanding it to disengage, it will send a teleportation Marker and an SOS to the closest Tower." Gwen felt the warmth of the ring on her finger; her white legs were already knock-kneed when Gunther dispelled her Geas— now, they were jelly. Having seen Edgar escape certain death thanks to his ring, she knew just how precious this item was. Her brother-in-craft was lending her his second life. "No! Gunther, I can't! It's too precious! You need it!" "Nonsense!" Gunther waved a hand. "I'll be stuck here for the foreseeable future; until I move back into the Tower. Then I'll be stuck there for the foreseeable future. What need do I have for Contingency Ring when I am battling paperwork?" "But!" "No buts!" Gunther appeared taken with the role of a benevolent elder sibling, finding the secret joy that Henry must have felt when doting upon a young apprentice. "If you die saving Alesia's apprentice, do you think Alesia will let me have peace so long as I live? If you were killed, by say, a faction of Mages from Singapore, do you think Alesia will leave the city standing?" "Err…" Gwen felt the words catch in her throat. "Think of it as helping us, helping you," Gunther smirked, touching the emptiness on his finger where a contingency ring had sat for a decade. "Let the ring be insurance. Promise me you'll be more of yourself and less of Alesia out there. Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. Know your limits and trust your friends and allies. Don't try to do everything yourself. Listen to Jonas and the others." "I'd look ten years younger if Alesia did that," Jonas quipped, citing his white handlebar moustache. "Agreed, I am losing hair," Taj joined in. "That's just male pattern-baldness..." Paul interjected, fending off a deathly glare from Taj. Gwen felt the ring on her finger. The weight of it was incredible. All that expectation and hope, anticipation and trust, bound up in one Mithril band. "If you're not going to wear that ring, Gwen," Paul noted sternly. "I suggest you stay on the PT boat while we bushwhack the jungle." Gwen met Gunther's steel-grey gaze, her own striking hazel eyes returning his benevolent gaze with gratitude and thankfulness. "Thank you, Gunther," Gwen intoned gratefully to her brother-in-craft. Gunther rubbed the back of his head with a newly discovered embarrassment. He dispelled the awkwardness by moving to teach Gwen the glamour used to make the ring nondescript. "So, it activates when my life-force or biometrics is deemed critical?" Gwen wanted to make sure that she won't accidentally activate the ring casting Void spells or in the performance of some calculated incantations. Gunther affirmed the need to be very careful with her Void spells, as the designer of the Ring had probably not taken self-draining Negative Energy into account. "So what if I…" Gwen paused, her body becoming rigid. "What if you..?" Gunther regarded his sister-in-craft, who'd seemed struck by something awful. Suddenly, Gwen's expression twisted with palpable horror as she processed an epiphanic hypothesis. Stolen novel; please report. "GUNTHER!" Gwen spat with furrowed brows and trembling lips. "Oh, God!" The rest of the team regarded her quizzically. Was the gift of the ring too much? Within Gwen's mind, her thoughts were racing a thousand calculations a minute. She figured it out! She knew! How could it have been so obvious! The answer was there all along! "Gunther… if a Tower is in Contingency Mode, can the ring still save my life?" "Of course." Gunther nodded. "The Glyph-script within the ring is affirmed by a Treaty. The ring acts as proof of your allegiance. Even if you teleport into a Tower held by another Faction, they're honour bound to keep you safe, even if it's a temporary stay in an anti-magic prison. It's a Quid Pro Quo system agreed upon by all parties." "Can the Contingency ring be tuned to a specific place, like your tracking ring? Can a student be teleported to the whereabouts of a Master?" Gunther nodded. "Yes, that's one of the most popular uses for the ring—" Gwen's face flushed with exhilaration, her lips glistened. "Gunther! I get it now!" She intoned jubilantly at her brother-in-craft. "I know how Elizabeth Teleported into the Tower!" There was silence in the room at first, then Gunther slammed his cup onto the table. The office became a whirlwind of gesturing hands and fingers as Gwen explained her theory to Gunther, who began calling in assistants and advisors. As they talked, calls were made, and experts on the matter consulted. Gunther delayed his appointments for the next hour while the group shared a light luncheon. When all was said and done, Gwen was proven right; at least in theory and at least until practical experiments could be carried out. It was indeed possible to use a Contingency Ring's bypass Teleportation design to force oneself into a Tower's systems. Furthermore, though untested, it was also possible to forcibly teleport oneself into a restricted region such as the Grot, which occupied both the Tower's space as well as the Grot's parallel pocket dimension. Though the theory had been floated once or twice before, there were no precedents. Thus, the warning had been forgotten in times of peace. Gunther sighed. "I was going to nail Walken with abetting the enemy and letting a hostile Magister teleport into the Tower," he told them conspiratorially. "Now it seems, Gwen may have saved his life." "Oh." Gwen expression soured. Gunther waved his hands in the air, suggesting that she shouldn't worry about the mislead politician. "Keep the ring," Gunther insisted. As for the potential loophole, greater powers in higher positions would be the ones to lose sleep over it, certainly not the genius sister-in-craft who had uncovered it. "There may be Contribution Credits involved. I'll keep you posted." Gwen blinked. She had heard the term from Richard before but hadn't chased upon them since that night they'd exchanged some closely guarded secrets. "What are Contribution Credits?" "Something immeasurably useful, or utterly useless, depending on where you are." Gunther mused. "But nothing's finalised so I wouldn't worry too much about it. You'll know when the time comes." With luncheon finished, it was time to go. "Take the Teleportation Circle down to Shielding Station 46, that should give you a direct flight path into the Hunters' region," Gunther advised. "I'll have number five sorted out soon, as well as your travel documents." The group thanked Gunther and marched out. Once more, Gwen resumed her invisible intern persona while the burly men fended off the lumen recorders and pushed away nosy reporters baying for blood. Gunther turned to his table, where a stack of reports had caught his curious eye. The foremost of which read: Preliminary Site Investigations - Watson Bay Shielding Station. Regret. Morye knew regret like one knew an old jilted lover. He loathed the feeling, but like a moth to an old flame, he kept returning to her embrace, suckling on her magnificent teat with the ferocity of a newborn babe. He had escaped the old country to start a new, carefree life in this Frontier City, and yet all he did was rack up one baggage after another, becoming embroiled in a dazzling display of love-debts. Was he a playboy? Morye certainly didn't think so. He wasn't the sort of man who'd go and hit on women or used their injury to feed his ego. He wasn't a man who was lascivious or addicted to lovemaking; Morye merely enjoyed the company of woman more than most - their scent, their beauty, the softness of their voices, and the giddiness he felt when they held his arm for comfort. The only problem was that he couldn't stomach the responsibility that inevitably came with the possessiveness. The desire to start a family, to settle down, to choke him with a collar called the breadwinner and demand that he picked up the kids after school. Morye couldn't do that. Helena had once demanded he explain himself, and so Morye imparted the wisdom that as Abjurers shielded and Evokers shot Fireballs; so Morye Song was incapable of becoming the stereotypical husband. Such as the way of the world, Morye had explained. Same as that water flowed down from high and dragons hatched as hermaphrodites; he was a man who couldn't help himself when it came to beautiful women. After the nasty incident at Shield Station, he'd used the psychotic Dust Mage's Teleportation Scroll to will himself away. He'd ended up in Town Hall, a fair enough distance, not too far from Rosebay if a Mage took a crow's path to his destination. His daughter needed rescuing, and Morye felt responsible for not once picking her up from school. At least this one time, he had told himself, he should do it. It was going to be a bloody and dangerous rescue, after which he would have executed his fatherly duty and could be at peace with his delicate conscience. He had travelled no more than a dozen blocks when the tidal pods used by the Mermen started to rain down on the city, spilling fish-headed gooks of all shapes and sizes all over the broad avenues of the city. The Mermen were a strange lot in Morye's opinion, their preference for raiding human cities likewise made no sense when one considered the logistics of expending troops for negligible gain. He'd heard the popular theory that they were out for revenge, after all, humans ate a shit-ton of fish; as well as the notion that war against humanity was kind of holy crusade issued by the sea-priest to thin their overpopulated numbers. The over-population theory had met with resistance in the academic circles. After all, if the hypothesis held, why bother raiding the human cities and taking prisoners? Why not just file into the human cities and declare themselves sushi and sashimi? Morye was confident that humanity could handle as much seafood as the Mermen could march out of the sea. If so, the Lords of the Sea could thin their numbers and trade for goods and services! Having survived the Northern Front, Morye had little sympathy for the stupid NoMs who'd ignored the call for shelter and remained wandering through the streets aimlessly. Little sympathy that is, until he spotted a lovely brunette number being dragged by two thuggish looking brutes into an alley. Immediately his blood was up. They were in a crisis for God's sake! A horrid assault upon the city! Only blocks away, there were Mermen chopping people apart with claws, tearing them to shreds— to shreds! How can these NoMs behave like such animals at a time like this?! "Salt Skin!" A smooth layer of pink, crystalline-salt covered Morye's body, adhering a film over his face, forming a featureless mask. As one of his favourite signature spells, he had spent a goodly number of years sculpting the invocation so that the transmuted carapace resembled a suit of crystalline-white medieval armour tinged with marbled pink, giving him a knightly, although anonymous, air. With a hefty thunk, Morye landed in the alleyway. Within, he accosted the sight of a struggling woman who was half-way undressed at knifepoint. He took a glance at her dishevelled stated and shot two shards of monomolecular salt toward the thugs. The sound made by the crystalline projectiles slicing through flesh and bone was silken, punching through their limbs like a well-honed flenser carving ham-in-bone. The men crumpled. "Miss, are you alright? It's not safe here." Morye helped the woman up. She had erratic eyes that were wild with messy mascara and full red lips that were a little smeared. The scene was so titillating as to make Morye's mind wander into dangerous territories of his own. "Thank… Thank you." The woman avoided looking at the whimpering men beside her; one was holding a spurting arm stump, the other trying to piece his leg together. "They are my co-workers— I didn't... I didn't think..." "The shelter's that way." Morye held her as she stumbled from the alleyway, her dress worse for wear and covered in blood. He materialised a jacket and hung it over her shoulders, lest she attracts other unkind eyes. Morye wanted to leave right there and then, but the sight of her fixing her dress despondently while her eyes flashed with desperate signals made his protective instincts engorge. In the end, he took a quick detour and dropped the woman off at the entrance to the shelter, presided over by a few Militia Mages ushering folk into the bunker. Having resumed his merry way to Rosebay, Morye was determined to get to Gwen as soon as possible. His daughter was the target of some very unpleasant people, and it was pivotal that he reached her before other, more nefarious forces. Then Morye had turned the corner, only to see a group of Mermen beating down a battle group of Militia Mages. The Mages were pushed back by the burly Crab-men, who served as shields for the weaker fishheads. From the looks of it, the crustacean carapace exceeded the tier 1 to 2 Air spells utilised by the novice Evokers. As living battering rams, the beasts smashed through the Abjurer's earth-shields, snapping up the poor bastard with a swipe of their claws. When two of the burly crustaceans pulled the man apart like a blood-sausage piñata, it proved too much for the Evokers. Dark lines creased all over Morye's forehead. Here is why amateurs were useless in war. He had just about left when one of the Evoker women pulled off her cumbersome hood to reveal ash-blonde curls framing a dazzling face. The girl appeared young, maybe in her late teens, at best her early twenties, screaming bloody murder as she scampered on all fours away from the Mermen. Morye paused mid-air, torn by indecision. He had to save his daughter! But how could he leave these Mages undefended, destined to be fish-food? The second Evoker stumbled and fell to her hands, which became bloody with nasty abrasions from the broken debris. When the first girl went to help her, she threw off her backpack and hood, revealing a similar head of flaxen locks matted by sweat and blood. Sisters! Morye realised with a pounding heart. It would be a tragedy if their mother, who must also be a lovely blonde matron, were to lose two of her children in a single day. It was his duty as a Mage of superior power, gifted by fate, to ensure that these young women lived to see another day. Behind the two girls, the Transmuter who had tried to bring up the rear proved too fragile to withstand the assault of the cruel Mermen. Even with Bark Skin and Enhanced Strength, he found himself caught between a dozen crab-claws, held in the air while coral tridents skewered him like a kabab. Horridly, some of the Mermen began to eat, digging for the young man's guts, his liver, his heart and brain, even as he screamed for the mercy of death. The sight of their companion being eaten alive erased any thoughts of resistance from the girls. They fell on their bottoms, all courage and strength depleted, failing both the tests of fight or flight and instead choosing paralysis. Morye marvelled at their gamble— were the girls hoping that the Mermen were interested in living prisoners? If captured, what awaited them was infinitely worse than death. Just as one of the fishheads approached with a seaweed-strew net; the sisters found themselves staring upward at a salt-carapace Demigod. "Foul beasts," Morye spat. "Know the retribution of man! Pillar of Salt!" The modified Flame Strike materialised from thin-air and slammed into the group of Mermen with a terrific force. Negative energy flooded the surrounding space, draining the life from the Mermen. At the same time, crystalline shards dug into their skin, sliced into the flexible joints between their carapace, drawing out the moisture from their bodies. Easy, Morye grinned. Like sauntering garlic-butter lobster. The elemental power of salt was brutally effective against water-based creatures by the simple virtue of its desiccating passive effect. Even if the Mermen survived the initial blast, the loss of moisture from their bodies ensured the ultimate collapse of their organs moments later. The Mermen crumpled. Morye turned to the two women, who by now was staring at him with doe-eyed worship. The last survivor of the group of five, a plain-looking, nondescript broad, fled the scene. "Thank you! Thank you so much, Magus!" "Thank you, Sir!" "I am June, and this is Summer." "We owe you our lives!" The girls were beyond glad that in the eleventh hour, a Magus with a rare Mineral Element would come and save them. Morye looked at the two women, whose faces were similar, but each had their unique appeals. The taller one had a freckled nose that gave her a cherished air of vitality and youth; the shorter one had large, glassy eyes that hinted at a high level of compliance with a low level of situational awareness. "I am glad you're alright." Morye landed, feeling pleased with his efforts. June and Summer were in a dishevelled stated by now, their tattered clothing revealing their graceful surfer's bodies beneath the robes. "I should escort you to safety," Morye announced. "The shelter is not far from here." "We need to join up with our battle group," one of the girls replied guiltily, reflecting upon their cowardice when the Crab-men had bested their spells. "Fine, I'll take you over, just point me in the right direction." Unfortunately for Morye, another battle awaited him. When they arrived at the girls' FOB, he found the leader of their rag-tag battle group entrenched in a melee. The Militia had barricaded themselves with furniture, cars, road signs, and any other opportunistic bric-a-brac they could find. A full three dozen of them were fending off hundreds of menacing Mermen, lead by a burly looking shark-cum-reptile. Without a word, Morye dropped a Blade Barrier around the barricade, instantly turning the Mermen assault into sashimi dinners. As the pink-crystal blades churned, the shark-leader bellowed a challenge at Morye. Morye moved to confront the shark-headed beast. He wasn't stupid enough to melee it. Instead, he dropped a Cone of Salt the moment he was close enough to cover the Shark-captain and his guards. As usual, the desiccating spells proved too much for the fish folk. After the magic passed, all that remained were comical dried fish-jerky wearing armour and carrying semi-enchanted weapons of the depths. The leader of the Militia was a young officer called Katie Rhodes, who introduced herself and supplicated before Morye, demonstrating the most heartfelt genuflection she could show. Morye examined the young commander. She had cropped hair about her ears, with liquid, brown eyes were alive with hope and vigour, giving her face an enduring quality that made one want to embrace its beautiful symmetry and aesthetic curvature. Morye felt his heart aflutter, feeling a little lost in the innocence of her face. "Sir, thank you for saving us..." Such vivid eyes the girl possessed! So intimate and familiar, so pretty— Morye blinked. Shit! Gwen! Without a word, Morye steeled his resolved and flew into the sky, no longer keeping his eyes upon the disturbance of the ground below. Gwen! He told himself. I am coming! And finding his wayward daughter he did. Though the outcome was somewhat more ambivalent than Morye had hoped. There was no tearful rescue, no screaming for help. Instead, he had to act as a witness to her horrid mutilation of some poor sod. After, watched her blast off into the sky with a green glow and realised that his daughter all grown up. At that moment, he felt like a useless father who'd spent years neglecting his daughter, and when he'd finally found her again, she'd married a seven-foot biker and was holding a baby sporting a rat-tailed mullet at the tender age of three. Then the biker-husband turned to Morye and asked, 'who the fuck are you?' "Fuck it," Morye recalled finding himself instantly distant. "I am out." His first goal had been finding a way to return to his peaceful life as a useless Abjurer, laying low while the whole thing blows over. Surely, with all the drama happening with the Shield Stations, the department wouldn't be too interested in a senior technician who'd gone awol. At least that was what he'd naively hoped. Instead, just as he had met one of his ex's, coaxed her into providing him with temporary shelter, when a message spell bloomed beside his head. Unlike a personal message spell, the glyph for this one was silver, indicating that it came from a Government authority. "Shit," Morye said to himself. "Sorry Margerie, I gotta take this." The NoM woman kissed his shoulder, walking away without so much as a sliver of cloth. Morye marvelled at the gentle, soft curves of her body, admiring the good fortune that despite the years since their last tryst, she'd kept well, maturing like a well-seasoned mango. "Morye Song." The voice that spoke was stern and commanding. "Yeah?" "This is Gunther Shultz, interim Master of the Sydney Tower. I am invoking section 5.7.8 of the Frontier Military General Article 7. I am conscripting you for mandatory duty while the city is under Martial Law." "Why? I am just a no-good Abjurer. What can I do?" Morye protested. "Katie tells me otherwise, Mr Song." "I don't know who that is." "Perhaps I'd be more convincing if I called you by your new title?" Morye furrowed his brow. What title was that? "The Pink Salt Saviour." Morye choked on his spit. "That's fucking ridiculous!" "Nonetheless, I have a quest for you, one you cannot possibly refuse. It serves neither of our purpose for the headlines to tell tales of your wondrous exploits." "We'll see about that." "From your colourful past, no less. From the old country to the New, so many women wondering where you'd gone." "... I am listening." "Good, because you wouldn't want to turn down my offer regardless. It involves Gwen, and your refusal to participate will directly endanger her." "Fuck me sideways." Morye had a sinking feeling. "It's not so bad." Gunther's voice was caught between amusement and self-control. "If you participate, I will keep your talents a secret for you. Otherwise, you can prepare to live the rest of your life in Oceania as a renowned public figure." "No, no," Morye succumbed quickly. "If it's for Gwen, I'll do it." "Good," Gunther replied. "You are to rendezvous with her at Surya's estate. I have a team ready to head out." "Out to where?" Morye became suspicious. "Who else is at the estate?" "Out to a Black Zone," Gunther said. "Your wife and son, as well as their stepfather, are all thankfully safe and sound— at the estate. They eagerly await your unexpected arrival at the estate." Morye moaned silently. He was happy that Percy was safe and sound; that Gwen too was alright, but the mere mention of Helena made his chest sore. "I wish you the best of luck," the Paladin intoned, satisfied with his recruitment drive. "Good hunting." The Paladin silenced the Message conference. Morye felt his world turn dark. He felt like a Merman stuck in a crab cage. He hadn't thought about it before, but he knew it now— there were indeed fates worse than death.