My Cardinal Time Chapter 1

 It's been a while since I've been able to write, but I've found new motivation in beginning the following story. In "My Cardinal Time," cynical witch Ruby Wing and troubled student Alex Lark form Cardinal Mystic Consulting, a team dedicated to using their magic to help clients with insurmountable problems. Love, drama, and magical intrigue await in Comalan's first new tale in years! This story will likely be my main creative focus for the foreseeable future, so be sure to check out our Patreon if you're enjoying it! The latest chapter will always be posted there first!

Chase the Shadow

If there was one thing Ruby Wing hated more than anything else, it was strangers. What a cruel irony it is that finds me in the business of helping people, she gloomily reflected one summer night as she stared at her latest client across her desk with a tense expression on her face. He held a pistol in his hand, pointed toward the floor, and wore a crazed, desperate look. 

“I was to believe that you would have an answer for me by last evening!” the belligerent client roared, his ashen face contorted with pain. “If I am to be married–tomorrow, mind you–let it be with the knowledge that nothing has happened between her and Felix or not at all!”

Ruby stared deeply into her desktop as she fetched an envelope from her tote bag, a weary gloom seeping into her face as she began to explain, “Not at all, from the looks of it. Yes, I’ve been busy, but I had a look in after you called me this morning. With this in hand, your family won’t mourn the lost dowry. ”

The client took the envelope and emptied the photographs into his trembling lap. Upon studying each of the seven images in turn, his face drained even further of color. With a ghastly wail, he hunched over in his seat, propping his chin up with the muzzle of his weapon. 

“Dowry be damned! Don’t you see that I am undone?”

Ruby sighed and extended her right hand in the man’s direction, palms facing downward. Her eyes flashed with a red glow as she quickly clenched her hand into a fist. 

“That is quite enough of that,” she growled, and the weapon was quickly reduced to powder. 

In response, the client could only gawk.at her as she stood from her desk with a roar of frustration. She began to slowly and stiffly pace the room, a cold energy crackling from every pore as she passed by the man, who had begun to shrink into his chair. After a straight minute of this, she finally rounded on him and growled, “I think you fundamentally misunderstand the services I provide. So far, you have tasked me only with finding the truth of your fiancee and your friend and I have done so, despite making it perfectly clear that any civilian investigator could have done so far more cheaply!”

Ripples of sleet began to fall from the ceiling as Ruby continued to rant, “So let me remind you that the purpose of this firm is to use magic to solve difficult problems! Now that we have finally identified your true problem, why don’t we finally discuss what you actually need from me so urgently from me in particular that it is worth prioritizing you over other cases of life-defining import?”

The chill immediately dropped into the air and the sleet began to dissipate. Ruby took a seat behind her desk. “If your aim is truly to die, that can be arranged, or would you, perhaps, prefer for me to use time magic to un-fuck her?”

Finally, the little man in the chair finally found his voice. “I no longer want her, but I am terrified to live without her.”

Ruby sighed dramatically and whipped her wrist, causing the door to the lobby to swing open. In a distinctly monotonous tone, she mumbled. “Don’t be. You’ll find a way to live on. Focus on yourself and remember that life is too precious to throw away for fleeting pain. You already know what you need to do and you’re going to do it because that’s how this all ends with the least pain.”

The man’s face fell as Ruby silently allowed him this moment of introspection. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, 

“I have to take the role in Amora”

Ruby nodded with relief, her frayed nerves already calming. “Yes, please move away! If it helps you, there is important work in your future for which you can expect all due reward if you heed my words.”

The client bolted out of his seat and smiled awkwardly. “Well, as ill-tempered as you’ve been, you have genuinely helped me. I assure you that your payment will be made in full by tomorrow morning.”

Ruby shook her head roughly. “It will be made in coin, by your own hand, at my residence exactly three hours from now.” Her eyes pierced his very soul as she added, “And don’t you dare assume that I’m unaware of what exactly you meant by payment. I promise that any attempt to cross me will end better for me than it does for you.”

“Madam Wing, I’ve nothing but gratitude for your unique solution to my crisis!” the man said with a pleasant nod as he put on his hat and made for the door. “I assure you that you will have your coin! Have a pleasant evening!”

Ruby, knowing full well that he was lying, only smirked and said with a particular emphasis, “Enjoy your new life in Amora, Director Starr.”

Then, knowing full well that the client was already on a timeline that did not lead to him taking her advice, she watched him walk away with a sigh. It is something I will have to deal with later, she thought as she glanced at the clock.

This latest case, nothing but a waste of time in Ruby’s mind, had taken up too much of her evening, because tonight was supposed to be a special night before this apparent scandal had ruined it. She had worked for over a month to get a decently reliable tip on a much more important case. Tonight, had she been at a certain place at a certain time, she might have had a chance to spot Bron. The name clung to her mind as a wistful stare into nothing sharply contrasted her previous frustration. 

Needless to say, thanks to this insecure lordling and his drama, Ruby was not in that particular place at that particular time. Realizing that she had missed her date, her mood completely soured once more. She wordlessly cleaned up the office, now empty apart from her and stumbled out the front door, nearly shattering the glass with the force with which she had closed it. She sighed momentarily with relief before locking the door and dragging her feet dejectedly down Twilight Street. 

Clearly, it was time for a long visit to The Dark Library.

***

Turning down Page Street as it intersected with Twilight, Ruby couldn’t help but smile as her eyes drank in the familiar sight of her favorite establishment in Seres. The Dark Library was a place that stood out in more ways than one in this city of scholars. Firstly, the tiny, black wooden building was nestled tightly between two gargantuan offices of marble construction. As if this didn’t make it hard enough to miss, a large sign which nearly covered the entirety of its front wall proudly bore its name in glowing red letters. 

Ruby approached the building and suddenly felt an urge to look behind her. Seeing nothing there, she pushed the burgundy door open with a sigh, then a shrug. Inside, she would see a much larger space than one could possibly contain with such tiny walls. While it looked from the outside as if fewer than five people could occupy the building shoulder-to-shoulder, the inside was a sprawling sea of tables of varying sizes, with three of the surrounding walls covered in bookshelves. At the opposite end from the entrance lay a bar, currently manned only by the owner–a man who made it a point to conceal his identity with a faded yellow shroud. 

“Welcome Madam Wing,” the shrouded man said gruffly. “It’s a slow night, so take a seat wherever you like.”

“More like a slow month, right, Sunny?” Ruby said with a frown as she gazed across the empty room–a rare occurrence for this place.

The bartender nodded and gave a long, drawn out sigh in reply.

“Exams, I take it?” Ruby asked, rolling her eyes somewhat. 

“Whoever’s bloody idea it was for every college in town to hold their exams at the same time owe me for weeks of lost business! Your coin is paying my rent this month, Madam!” the man called Sunny roared in a booming voice.

The Dark Library, one of only two drinking establishments of note in the city of Seres, was almost tailor-made to appeal specifically to the legions of harried scholars who called the city home. To Ruby it was a place where one could enjoy a quiet drink and read from one of the thousands of tomes which surrounded her. She wasn’t displeased to see it so empty, but could understand why Sunny might be.

“Chin up, Barkeep! You know the week after will be a lively one! You have so many celebrating future graduates and poor test takers in need of consolation to look forward to!”

Sunny nodded and said, “I would thank you for your encouragement, but I know your motives aren’t selfless! You are still paying my expenses in the meantime, so no complimentary drinks for you this evening!!”

Ruby sighed and muttered “You’re welcome, dick!” before retreating to her favorite table, a smaller one in the corner closest to where the entrance was located. Though she had always appreciated that the owner of the bar wasn’t one to mince words, what he had just said had hurt her feelings somewhat. Is that what people think of me, that I would never do something so simple as to reassure someone who is struggling without any ulterior motive? Such a thought would normally have never bothered her under normal circumstances, but it came to her then on a night in which she had begun to question the value of helping people. Her business, moderately successful as it was, seemed to warp into something that was both drastically different from what she had originally envisioned and difficult for her to control.

What’s the point? It’s just meaningless busywork for entitled assholes with more money than genuine problems!

The sour mood that settled into her mind was quick to abate as she called a book to her table with a lazy flick of her hand, a tome that would avail to her the true tales of heroes who reached for the gods’ power and changed the world for their troubles. How did they do it? She wondered to herself with a bittersweet smile as she pored over a page which described the day a hulking warrior blanketed an invading army of aberrations under a river of flames with a single swing of his gargantuan blade. It took more than power, she knew, for she had more than plenty. But to change the world in a meaningful way like the legendary figures she so admired seemed so far beyond her grasp.

With her abilities, she could bend whole cities to her will with minimal effort, but her disdain for mankind didn’t extend so far as to actively want to cause another’s suffering. For her, it was important to be known well for something that left no bitter memories for those who were part of her story. Why she felt this way was a mystery that continued to elude her even after roughly three decades of life to ponder it.

As she continued to read, the reason she had so recently struggled to find for the work she chose came back to her– as it did every night she returned to the Dark Library. Through Cardinal, she had hoped to be a hero to her community, educating others about how magic could be used to better the day-to-day lives of the people around you. How it had been twisted into something so insignificant was a question she asked herself every night that she ambled into this bar. Yet, every time she always walks out with no answer, but the faintest glimmer of hope that the tale she read that day was possible in the world she experienced every day..

But today, she would have her answer in the curt warning Sunny gave her before she took her seat. Could it be the case, she wondered, that there is a good reason the only clients I attract are so undeserving of my aid? What if the difference between me and these heroes is something I’ve done to the people around me? 

These thoughts brought a prickle to her skin. As if suddenly regaining her awareness of where she was, she began to feel uncomfortable that she had just dipped into such honest introspection in public. With a sigh, she closed her book and lifted it into the air, giving it to an unseen force to carry back to its shelf. Feeling a strong desire to continue these thoughts while nestled beneath her warm and soft bed covers, she left a few coins on the table–even suppressing her petty urge to pay in Galean conches in retaliation for his last comment. Finally, she quickly gulped down the rest of her third drink– a neat, dark amber cocktail with plenty of ice– and waved to the barkeep on her way out the door. 

It was with a slightly improved mood that Ruby stepped out onto Twilight Street, resolving to think more about her unhealthy attitude towards other people and how her business might improve from changing it. After all, she couldn’t expect people to ask for her help if she had a reputation for being so stingy with it that she couldn’t even offer a friendly word of encouragement without any expectation of benefitting from the act.

As she continued to ponder the latest major lifestyle change upon which she had decided while drinking, she stumbled slightly in her solitary trek back to the office–which was also her residence–seemingly oblivious to a presence that had been shadowing her since she left the bar. In truth, she had spotted the squat man behind her had entered The Dark Library while she was reading and had been following her ever since she left, presumably impressed with his own sneakiness.

Instead of turning down Page Street as intended, she walked past the intersection and turned instead onto an alleyway that separated a coffee shop from the neighboring Midanian restaurant. She could practically hear the snicker of her shadow, likely confused as to why she would turn down that way. But when he followed her into the alleyway, he found himself looking at Read on Twilight, the bookstore across the street, behind whose sign he had hidden just moments before. Perplexed, he rounded quickly on the spot, as if expecting to see something different. Unfortunately, what greeted him was the very same store. 

Gritting his teeth, the short stalker charged into the alleyway, attempting to ignore the iportal that now stood before him through sheer willpower, with the result being to end up back on Twilight Street each time. After several moments of this, Ruby chuckled, unseen by the hunter-turned-prey. On his next attempt to bluster through her spatial magic.he instead found himself in an empty lot that he recognized as the unused space behind The Dark Library. There she stood, glowering at him with a cold stare.

“I’ve had a long night and much more important things to think about than you,” Ruby whispered coolly as a frigid chill seeped into the lot, “So I will give you exactly one chance to tell me why you’re following me and pray that I’m not dissatisfied with your explanation.”

“I’ve also been given a chance to prove that I know better than to speak of the man who sent me,” the man said steadily. Though his expression betrayed no hint of emotion, Ruby’s spell of empathic sight made the terror he felt plain to see. Whatever his goals, he seemed to fear retaliation from someone controlling him far more than the irritated witch who was threatening him at that very moment. But he didn’t need to speak. Of all the people who are capable of terrifying a man so thoroughly, there was only one known to have any interest in her: The Hourglass.

It seems Bron has found me first, Ruby thought as she gently thumped him on the head, causing him to instantly lose consciousness. How fun for me, she continued as she strode off quickly to put some distance between herself and her enemy’s lackey. When he woke up, most of his memory of the evening would be gone. But since she could understand his impulse to blindly obey the Hourglass out of fear, she was merciful enough to leave him the memory of their confrontation in that lot in the hope that Bron would understand this man’s failure as a result of her own skill as opposed to any failure to follow his directions. If nothing else, hopefully he’ll know what it means to cross me again, she prayed as made her turn down Page Street at last.

Nearing her office, she stopped outside the nearby park upon catching sight of a young man sitting alone on a bench, seemingly uncaring of the broken lamp above him or the darkness which surrounded him. With a pang in her chest and a huff of realization, she immediately saw this boy’s pain. This is where it started for me, so devoid of love and trust! Without a doubt, this is the look of someone who is about to give up on mankind. 

With a wistful glance to the nearby warmth of her office, she turned and walked toward the bench instead. If I’m going to fix my image, she thought with a hollow smile, what better time and place than here and now?

Death Touch Final Version Preview

 Hello, readers! I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately! Life got in the way for a very long time, but I am still working on the final draft of Death Touch! I'm not going to post every single chapter again but, I wanted to give y'all a chance to compare the polished of the version of this story that will eventually be released in book form to the version that we've enjoyed together on this site with one more look at the first chapter. You can find the previous version of this chapter here and check out the rest of the story from there! Information about the release of the finally complete story will be coming soon!

Chapter 1

Sara

What a dreary place! Sara Marle was never one to complain that anything in her life was uninteresting, but there was no other word for the village of Palon. This quiet hamlet had only been standing for twenty years when she found herself there for the first time, strolling to the top of a grassy hill within its local park. Beyond this grove of peculiar white trees with orange leaves atop a seemingly endless expanse of rolling hills, there was very little to see. Less than two dozen houses, four ships, an inn and an infirmary were all one had to mark the reach of civilization into this corner of Southern Resta. 

Palon was no place for children and families, to be sure. Most of the people Sara met during her recent visit to the local inn claimed to be adventurers who would challenge the nearby Lightning Ridge. The spellwarriors of Hem Academy once claimed this jagged valley of wild growth and even wilder creatures as a training ground until they were forced to abandon their facilities to the elements. This had led to a plethora of adventurers setting up camp in Palon, hoping for the slightest glance at the inscriptions left behind the Hem Order in its abandoned ruins. One could encounter the small crowd of hardened travelers and conclude that supporting their work was the entire purpose of Palon’s existence. 

But for Sara, it was only a stop on her way home. Just days ago, she had faced the first test of her life as an acolyte of the Blackstone Order. As a priestess, she had only recently begun to practice speaking with the gods, but no amount of hours spent drilling their language into her mind had prepared her for the confusion that followed when she heard the verse of her goddess, Lady Serenity for the first time. She hadn’t expected to completely understand her words during their first conversation but, for the life of her, she couldn’t help suspecting that what she had been struggling to make sense of had been an especially dire warning. 

While this seemed too urgent to discard as the impressions of an undisciplined mind, the mere suggestion of the Goddess of Tranquility uttering words of danger to an acolyte and not the more-experienced clergy members was more than impossible to accept. It had actually caused her to be imprisoned in her quarters for a week as the others desperately hoped for either clarification of Serenity’s will or confirmation of Sara’s misunderstanding. Finally, it was decided that she must leave the Blackstone Monastery, which she called home, and meditate on her interpretation of the divine independently. 

This is how Sara found herself traveling west. From Palon, she would be home in Beldor after another another two days of walking north. But, as the sun began to crest over the mountains to the west of the village, it was decided that this was the place where she would rest for the night. The sky’s fading golden light glistened through her silken auburn hair as she wandered up a narrow path toward the top of a particularly steep hill. She was fascinated by the massive white tree that was nestled on its pinnacle. As she approached, she would brush her fingers against the clusters of orange leaves which hung from its bleached branches as she recalled its name: Whitebark’s Promise. 

She breathed a sigh of reverence as she passed under the tree’s extraordinary canopy and pressed her palm to the smooth bark of its trunk. The air here wafted with a pleasant, minty aroma that brought back memories of drinking tea back in the gardens of the monastery. Through her study in the Serene faith, she knew that such calming places were nearly always meaningful. As she groped this rare arboreal specimen, she quickly felt the sensations she expected to. Her pulse slowed, her mind began to float with euphoria and her breathing became easier. She nodded to herself, thinking, This seems like a good place to meditate before retiring to the inn.

So, she straightened the hem of her dark green travel robes before and sat, cross-legged, at the base of the tree. She then inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, leaning back very slowly. When her head came to rest against the bark, she released her breath. Choosing to contemplate the stillness of the land around her, it was easy to lull herself into the trance she sought. No predators, evil presences, or adverse weather remained to worry her. In this place, she was free from danger and could, just for now, lose herself in feelings of peace. In this blissful solitude, she then prayed to feel the loving peace that was Lady Serenity’s gift. 

The trance came for her quickly, as was characteristic of her particular efforts to commune with the divine. While anyone could theoretically do this, no one could slip into this state more easily than her. It was this gift which guided her to the Serene faith and, at the age of 21, she had already accomplished what had taken her elders twice her lifetime. She would hear frequently that the spiritual connection she had formed with the sacred realm of Fadal had grown to the point in which could actually hear Serenity’s voice a decade too soon. 

In this meditative state, Sara thought not of this, but of the mystery that had unfolded at what was once her sanctuary. She had long since gotten used to hearing disjoined words that held no particular meaning, figuring that meaning would come with more experience. But what chilled her was the one phrase she had been able to make out: “...lulled into complacency…”

Up to that point no one had any difficulty believing that Sara could hear the goddess’ gentle voice, but the possible implications of those words had soon caused a rift among the Monastery’s Serene sect. Some agreed that they were intended as a warning but far too many people instead viewed these words as proof that Sara must have lied about hearing Serenity’s voice at all. The more they debated, though, the more certain she became that there was something in those words. 

The Serene Church is in trouble, she had determined. For centuries, those of her faith had paid tribute to a goddess they always believed would shelter them from the dangers of this world with her own power. But if she were threatened, what use would her acolytes be to her if they had never known anything but perfect tranquility? When the goddess spoke, Sara could sense the desperation in her voice. There was something to this the others weren’t seeing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. 

When she first put her home of seven years behind her, she had planned to travel further north to the capitol after a respite in Beldor. It was there she had hoped to consult with the leaders of her faith to make sense of the warning she was sure she had received. But time was clearly against her, given how her elders had reacted to her warnings and the means with which information could flash between the various temples of the kingdom. 

So, Sara found herself in desperate need of the sort of guidance that had failed her for the first time. Without mentors to rely on, all she had left was praye, so she beseeched Serenity for clarification with no clue what to expect in return. Every time she went into a trance, she could feel the words becoming clearer, but her blood soon turned to ice with the eventual realization that she could hear nothing now. 

Fearing that she had made a mistake, the idea that she may have been excommunicated for disrupting the harmony of her former sanctuary began to play on her mind. The fear nearly brought her out of her trance entirely, but she soon felt as if a long pair of gentle arms had closed around her shoulders. As her thundering heart began to settle once more, it was immediately clear to the young acolyte what was happening. Though she couldn’t find the words to describe the sensation, it filled her with a certainty that Serenity was with her. Freed from her anxieties by this comforting embrace, the burning questions that had plagued her for the past few days raced through her mind. 

To Sara’s surprise, she soon heard Serenity’s voice once more. To compound her shock, the goddess spoke in a clear voice. 

“Sara Marle, I knew you would understand.”

Sara’s heart skipped as she took in this complete sentence. The Lady’s words didn’t yet convey any real meaning, but they confirmed the acolyte’s suspicions. She let out a deep sigh in her effort to control the growing elation which threatened her trance. To hear a deity’s voice as clearly as she had was unheard of and she didn’t want to lose that feeling soon. Her focus was further threatened with the chill wind that had rustled the leaves above her come dusk, despite the impenetrable warmth that now surrounded her. Despite this, she managed to put together a reply.

“My lady! I am honored by the sound of your voice!”the young cleric declared, for lack of anything better to say. 

“Be at peace, my child,” the goddess replied warmly. “My people and yours alike live in troubled times, but you are safe for the moment.”

These words, meant to soothe, tore away the veil of confusion that had encompassed Sara’s initial attempt at divine communion. The implication that the gods were in trouble might have caused her to gasp if she could even find the fear that she should be feeling. So powerful was Serenity’s calming aura that she might have just been told that nothing had been wrong at all. But Sara couldn’t afford to lose herself in her calm, as that was the mistake that her detractors at the monastery seemed to be making. She wondered to herself, Why is she telling me this?

As if sensing this inquiry, the goddess would add, “For you see, my daughter has once again escaped our world to haunt yours once more. 

This time, Sara was unable to quell her gasp. Serenity could only be talking about Maula, the Goddess of Death. Recollections of her history came quickly to Sara, for every deity was the subject of an acolyte’s studies. Born to Serenity and Chaos, the God of War, Maula was a potential heir of Fadal. The last time she descended upon the world of Comalan was over two-hundred years ago, when it was said that Maula had rebelled against the elder gods by crushing the land of Resta under a wave of death, hence her moniker as the Goddess of Death. 

A majority of the population had suffered Maula’s wrath and all would have been lost if not for four legendary champions. Nicholai Desmond, the chosen champion of Chaos, joined forces with Helen Winstrom, the champion of Serenity. They were later joined by Artix Maloran, then the crown prince of the kingdom and Orion, the queen of the elven nation of Tanis. Together, the four had devised some sort of weapon that had driven Maula back to Fadal, where only deities and the souls of the dead may roam. 

Founded in the wake of a deadly plague that once devastated the lost nations of Necros and Coronos, Resta had seen its fair share of catastrophe but the Wave of Death was the most deadly by far. This fact sealed the legend of the Champions as a central figure in the kingdom’s history. 

If she is truly back, Sara thought to herself, surely she could only have grown more powerful in the last two centuries. Many more people could die this time!

Sensing the terror that had crept into Sara’s heart, Serenity continued soothingly, “It will be alright, Sara. Mortalkind have always surprised us! When the champions who came before banished Maula, they foresaw her return. The left behind their secrets so that others could take up the cause of banishing her once more when they were gone. I beseech you to gather the courage to be one of those who defend mortals for a second time!”

Sara initially relaxed under the belief that a plan was already in place to deal with the looming threat. But to think that she might be a participant brought back the chill in her blood. Could I really continue the work of such strong warriors?

“I once believed that Helen’s grace and determination were without equal, but I have watched over you for seven years. When first you knelt before one of my altars, I sensed something familiar,” Serenity explained in a hasty attempt to mollify the nervous woman. “Not since Helen’s death have I seen such sincere devotion. When you pledged yourself to the Doctrine of Tranquility, despite many urgings to the contrary, I felt certain that I had found what I am looking for, so I nurtured you on your path. I sense a potential equal to Helen in you!”

Sara was torn with conflict. She could not bring herself to believe what she heard about herself, despite her firm conviction that Serenity couldn’t possibly be wrong about her acolytes. To be the equal of someone so brave and strong? Impossible!

Sensing Sara’s unspoken objection, Serenity seemed to laugh. “My dear, when have I ever prized martial strength? Your historians may have made it a point to remember that Helen was a formidable warrior, but that is not what I asked of her, nor will I ask it of you.”

Desperately wishing that Serenity would reconsider, Sara could only reply, “I’m really not so special. It won’t be simple to banish a deity with devotion to you alone!”

“You are not the one who will banish her,” the goddess declared flatly. “What I ask of you instead is to keep the peace. When Maulas designs are set in motion, many will suffer. I would ask that you convince those who remain that we have not forsaken them. You must heal their wounds, ease their burdens, and protect them from despair.”

With Serenity’s desires fully clarified, Sara began to feel better about what was being asked of her. To fight on Serenity’s behalf was something best asked of a templar, but healing the hearts and bodies of those in need was something she had actually trained for. This left just one obvious question. If I am not to banish Lady Maula, who is?

“You will be aided in your quest by others chosen by my family,” Serenity explained matter-of-factly. “Two of them are close, but you may not see the last for some time.”

This changes things, Sara thought immediately upon hearing this response. Although reconnecting with her sisters and brothers in the faith to share this new information remained vital, it was clear that she had to find the other two champions in town before she left. 

“Thank you, my lady,” she said with a smile to herself. “I think I know what must be done now.”

With that, the heavy sensation of tranquility that followed her trance had begun to dissipate following Serenity’s final reply, “Trust me, trust your comrades, and trust yourself.”

Sara then found herself alone once more, uncomfortably aware of the early evening chill that hung over the hills. She stood up once more, shaking the numbness out of her legs. She had planned to return to her room at the inn much sooner, but had lost track of the time. With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet with some difficulty due to her left leg, which had fallen asleep after remaining stationary for so long. Between the numbness in her foot, and a sudden gust of wind which nearly lifted her of the ground, she would stumble on her descent from the hill and tumble all the way to the bottom. 

As she lay there on the ground with a throbbing pain in every part of her body that could feel pain, she cursed her own luck. The first steps of my journey, she thought sourly before she passed out, inwardly thankful that there had been nothing on the hill for her body to hit besides tall grass.

Further into the foothills, a tall man with short red hair and a young woman with braided raven-colored hair had noticed Sara’s fall and rushed to help.

Once a Blade Pt. 1

The following is an unmarked letter found in the barracks of the Blackstone Monastery's Knight Quarters. An investigation to determine the letter's recipient was launched, but the trail ran cold when they discovered the carrier had been killed. There was no sign of a struggle, but evidence of magic found on his body has led to the involvement of spellwarriors. To this day, neither they nor the templars have managed to discover who this unknown writer was addressing with such a hasty scrawl and no one else described within has been located.

 War came for the entire family when I returned from the Winter Festival. The fog surrounding the "holy" city of Karatal masked the approach of their ship. As it was, we only noticed them floating in our part of the marina just this morning. When I say an enemy ship dropped anchor in our port, you must imagine an army of soldiers who've pledged their lives to some greater cause that somehow involved the Blades' demise. But since you were once a Blade yourself, I shouldn't have to explain the difference between that and the world we live in.

The Northern Lights is what they call themselves. Before you wrack your brains, no you've never heard of them. They were a small time family the last time you visited our world and, since you only stepped in last time to kill Pops, they weren't exactly bound to come up in conversation. But they've been busy in the past decade. They posture as an anti-crime family, which always seemed to mean that they were too clean to do what we do, but too grimy to join the church or just enroll in Hem Academy. We've been running circles around the spellwarriors and the Royal Guard for years, so what's some punk brigade of wannabe vigilantes to us, right? We didn't take them seriously enough.

We came to find out that the Northern Lights was founded by a fucking RAI spy. They had us fooled this whole time, thinking they were some stiff-necked chumps, but their intel gathering only seemed to improve when this rat bastard, Sheldon Hawke, passed on his skills to them. What this guy was doing leaving the Royal Army to hunt gangsters is anyone's guess, but he managed to take down the Krakens, the Demon Dogs, and the Falcons. Three of the five strongest families in Karatal are either pushing daisies or staring at four walls of iron and stone because of these rat bastards and, now, this city is nowhere near what it used to be.

If I think about it, I can almost imagine you'd love to see what the Northern Lights have done with the place. With a bunch of do-gooders running this town, it's getting harder and harder for the Blades to make any money. They even walk around in broad daylight like they own the fucking place. The sheep love these guys and the spellwarriors don't consider their work as worthy of their attention as ours. To the grimy folks like us, these bastards winning the city feels like the fucking apocalypse.

But the Blades have never gone down without a fight. If that's what they've come looking for, that's exactly what they're gonna get. It's been years since we've seen such a blood bath, but no one here is about to back down. Sharpy even came back from Hem to give us a little magical help, so you can imagine we're definitely not fucking around. If this is the last chance I get to write, I should warn you of something. I know the only reason you haven't come after us yourself is your past allegiance with us. There may be no love in your heart for any of the family, but if word were to get out that you used to be a blade, the templars would be done with you. 

That is the understanding that kept you out of our business, but it looks like it might be in your best interest to drop by and help us because the Northern Lights know all about you. For the sake of your career and your second family, you have to come help out your first family.. These guys don't give a damn about your redemption and, if they put us down, they'll be coming after you next. If you sit this one out, the whole world's gonna know you're my brother one way or the other.

So I'll see you soon, if not in the city, then we'll meet in the Forge.

Scouting Report From the Northern Reaches

 Following the conclusion of Comalan's first interstellar war, which saw the liberation of the botanical world of Allene and the end of the aggression they faced from the aquatic world of Mennon, a victory celebration in Dalaska was marred by the capture of a suspicious individual lurking in the city's vacant Chaotic temple. The man remains imprisoned in Heron, having refused to answer any questions. Among his personal effects, the authorities found only a wooden token depicting a wolf standing on a mountaintop and a single document, which only raised more questions.

Though we have discovered much of note in this expedition, it seems appropriate to address the phenomenon that launched our expedition. The mystery of the skybound stars took little time to solve after making landfall on the northern continent. Our journey has taken us across three borders and everyone we've spoken to has spoken with mixtures of worry and excitement that the four nations of this continent, and the system of islands to their immediate east have all banded together to make war beyond the confines of our world. They accomplished this with five large vessels that can fly beyond our skies into the reach of the plane of stars. Even now, their cause is difficult to wrap my head around. One thing is clear, however: despite the spider's foolhardy challenge to their lands, the northerners are unconcerned with any threats from our side of the world.

Our tactical assessment remains inconclusive, however. What our people must understand about the northerners is that, while they have developed some interesting technology--particularly in the southern nation, but some notable examples exist along the eastern shores of Resta and among the visitors from the isles of Midania-- the source of their power lies firmly within the free practice of magic. Here, there are no Eye Witches and Shadow Witches. Their disparate cultures hold distinct views on magic, with the northernmost country being the only region to hold anything approaching a realistic attitude towards the gifts of the Judges. The worst offenders lie within the eastern region of the continent, where magic is practiced freely by commoner and noble alike while two armies of spellcasters wield the official sanction of their royalty.

While this land, known as Resta, wields more magical power under its banner than every single banner that stands over our lands combined, what makes them most dangerous is their political ties to the other countries in the North. While the others have conflicts to exploit, the neutrality and wealth of this kingdom make them a friend to all. Any campaign on this continent must not begin here for to attack them is to provoke four other nations as well.

This leaves the other four nations, which are bound with Resta in an accord of convenience against their otherworldly enemies. But beneath this facade of unity sands two essential alliances, from which the strongest threat stands apart entirely. The southland has developed a warm relationship with the woodlands to the west despite the stark social differences in their cultures. These southern nation, which is called Galeon, feels a lot like home in terms of both society and climate, save for their tolerance of the caste system of their strange, long-eared neighbors. Imagine forming an alliance with the Black Crown and you will understand the confusion with which I observed the relationship between these unlikely allies. There is justified unease among the people of Galeon over this association, but a growing alliance among each of the powers who threaten respectively seems to make it necessary.

The other alliance consists of the archipelago to our northeast and the northlands from which I write this report. The Galeans have come to fear the island nation for their powerful navy. and its recent conflicts with Galean fishermen and oceanic research vessels. Here in the northern nation of Heron, the people are forthcoming with discussion of their centuries-old enmity with the woodlanders of Tanis. While their hostilities have been set aside for now, they are half-expected to resume with the defeat of their common foe. Shrewd politicians from the isles have capitalized on this hatred and the friendship between their foes and Galeon--with whom Heron shares a cold, mildly cordial relationship as is-- to form a compact. Similar to the all-encompassing threat I've referred to in Resta, to launch an attack on Heron is to declare war on Midania as well--and vice cersa.

If you're looking for a weakness in this realm, there are a few bright sides to the dark tidings I've reported so far. The first is that, while their technology has taken unexpected leaps, their most advanced weapons may have been a match for ours no less than twenty years ago. The second is the population itself. From what we've been able to tell, our banner alone carries half as many bodies as all of their combined. If we could get enough ships through the storms, we could overwhelm  each country one at a time. If Raven Hills combines their might with ours, we could claim the entire continent before the red banners realize what's happening.

In conclusion, the northern realm carries a lot of power, but it is not untamable. Although it remains the prerogative of his imperial highness and the Senate whether action in the north realm is appropriate, I offer the following actions in my duty as a scout.

Resta-- This nation is not to be trifled with. Its combination of magical power and political connections make a direct assault on their throne the most dangerous proposal one could make to the Senate. However, their flagrant abuse of the Judges' laws makes them a clear target. A campaign against them must be carefully planned, but cannot be executed swiftly enough from what I can see. But if we conquer their allies or cut their diplomatic connections first, we can put an end to their twisted abuse of magic with little trouble.

Galeon- Limited contact is recommended. Given their agreeable culture, pre-emptive aggression towards this country could be detrimental to morale and their strange ethic of nonintervention would make them poor military allies. Attempts to sabotage their diplomacy with Tanis would be simple and worthwhile, but only to deprive a much higher-priority target of a crucial ally. Whatever we do, we can expect contact with their impeccable spy network. But that is all the more reason to avoid making an enemy of them too quickly.

Tanis- The woodlands are a suitable target for our opening move. The oppressive caste system that guides their society is something few would miss and their reliance on magic is second only to Resta's. Fortunately, nonviolence is their way, so if diplomacy fails, there is little to stop us from subduing them with force once we break through their meager defenders.

Midania- Midania is second in two critical ways. Behind Resta, their legendary navy and political savvy makes them our second-largest threat and their geographically scattered population places them behind Tanis when ranking easy targets. It may be necessary to disable their fleet if our entire army is to make it across the sea.

Heron- Opening a campaign that far north would be most difficult for logistical reasons and their average martial skill could make the empress worry. Not to mention the fact that, while their culture is not as similar to ours as Galeon's, their respect for magic makes them among the least troubling force on the continent. An alliance with Raven Hills would make such a prospect even more unattractive for the same reason I wouldn't ask our own people to attack Galeon. If there was any reason to recommend an attack against Heron it would be the cabal of flame casters that seem to be leading a push to accept magic in the same perverted way the rest of the realm has.

Finally, I would recommend caution around those the north realm folk call Avatars. Their renown is high throughout the entire realm and they are spoken of in the same tones as our own Heroes. But since all of them were involved in this otherworldly campaign, any report I could give on them would be inconclusive. They are said to have been given incredible powers by the Judges, who they have dared to assign names to. It is claimed that each wields the power of a Judge, but the truth of that cannot be determined until they return to the realm. My investigation will continue with these individuals. However the Emperor and Senate choose to act on this information, I reaffirm my commitment to expand the reach of our light.

Dead in Daylight Part Two

Ash

As I left my bus behind and began the last leg of my trek to Lake Whitetree, I thought about how this would be my first time doing field work alone. As an apprentice, I spent most of my early months working with veteran experts and other recently certified archaeologists. It was on one of these group expeditions that I met my love, offering his usual services as an escort to the scholars. But how I could ever have done this before him seemed to escape me just then.

The lake was silent but for the morning bird songs coming from the trees to the west. I had beaten the weekend tourists who tore up the lake during the day and could not have expected anyone else to be there. But for the beacon that researchers had given up on ages ago, the lake was just a lake. It provided water for Blackstone Farm--and possibly some elven settlements on the other side of the border-- as well as the perfect climate for an afternoon playing in the water. In happier times, I would already be dressed down for a swim because Nathan would never have let me get any work done otherwise. But on this still morning alongside the great lake, I was free to focus as much as I possibly could.

The beacon had fallen back to its original place at the bottom of the lake due to years of neglect, but that was of little concern to me. Using a spell scroll I purchased abroad, I was able to part the water long enough to drag the ancient construct back to shore.  There was little to examine in this object-- a massive yellow crystal sealed in a tarnished cylindrical casing made from brass with spindly legs attached to it--that hadn't already been exhaustively covered in my studies, but with fresh eyes, I located a symbol in the etchings that I had been interested in revisiting. When translated from this arcane language that predates modern scripts, this particular symbol was believed to mean "blood"-- a misunderstanding that has led to many researchers cutting themselves open for the sake of knowledge. But looking more closely at it, I realized that the word could also translate to "ash".

Ash was never mentioned in any source that referred to the beacon, so I knew I had to be on to something. But this only led to more questions. Was I supposed to burn something to activate it? Was this a warning of what could happen to those who did? There were many possible ways to interpret the full line as it was translated now.

"Lost in ash, hope is found"

As I pondered this puzzling clue, I would hear a rustling in the tall grass to the east. My heart jumped as I scanned the landscape. Most people who visited the lake did so with the most peaceful of intentions, but I couldn't discount the possibility of an encounter with a wild animal or mischievous fey; no one is more vulnerable to ridgewolf attacks than the traveling scholar. The source of the noise did turn out to be a person, but he still turned out to be a more frightening sight than a hungry beast.

The man had a somewhat average build, but that was about all I could tell you about him because his entire body was covered in various gloves, shrouds, and bandages. The only physical feature of his that remained visible was his cold, lifeless eyes. My mentor, a sai'mul, told me about how her people would always soaked their body in medicinal bandages to keep their skin from rotting but this was different. The cloth that covered this man's body was completely dry and gave off no scent. Apart from that, he walked in lively strides that most sai'mul could never hope to mimic.

He walked right past me toward the beacon I uncovered. He stared at it lying there on the shoreline for a few seconds before looking right at me. The man's eyes seemed to be searching for something in my own, but he soon began to walk away. Clearly, he knew something I needed to about the subject of my studies, and Nathan would never have allowed me to let him get away. Swallowing the fear I felt at his unnerving appearance, I rushed up to him and begged his pardon while I asked him some questions. But his response left me so chilled that I hadn't even noticed him leaving.

"The dead ones cannot speak."