World Exclusive: The Windlord Commanders (Page 1)

Excerpt from 

The Saluki - Ames the 3rd, 3E8 (Page 1)

The Windlords Who Wait

Windlords' Leadership Revealed

By Devorah Cline

For centuries, the Windlords of Aeros Academy have swept through Galeon, uncovering the secrets of the this land's most powerful figures for the good of the public. According to polls conducted by The Saluki, their purpose is perceived by the majority of Galean citizens to cut through the veils of secrecy itself and bring truth to every corner of the country. This reputation seems to be at odds with the secretive nature of the windlords themselves. For the entirety of their history, they have maintained that the dangerous nature of their work makes it necessary to protect their identities from potential enemies. But in a new age of uncertainty and change, transparency is more important than ever, even for the denizens of Aeros Academy.

It would seem that Ellie Skye, the acting Commander of the order, agrees. For the first time ever, a windlord agreed to sit down with us and reveal who she is and why she refuses to permanently accept her current role among the windlords. When she arrived to our scheduled interview, it was twenty minutes earlier than expected and she confessed that she was worried about running late. Her hasty apology included a promise that she had a lot to say, but the hour we spent talking afterwards was what proved this claim.

She began by telling about her own background as a spy, which began with her family moving to Galeon from the Restan city of Seres. It was in Bright Town, a district of Fides surrounding the Restan embassy, that the future Windlord lived with her older sister Julia and their grandmother, Helen Winstrom. Although Bright Town remains a welcoming neighborhood for Restan immigrants who wish to ease into the local culture, Ellie was eager to throw herself into the culture of her new home.

"I never felt any special attachment to Resta," Skye says, matter-of-factly. "So when we arrived in Galeon, I was ready to try being a Galean almost immediately."

Living in Galeon was a liberation of sorts for Miss Skye. It was in Fides, the windlord recalls, that she began to express herself in a way that she never could in Resta, due to their culture's archaic interpretation of gender. In her former homeland, she lived as a boy, but never found much satisfaction in blending in with her peers.

"I was just going through the motions, trying desperately to appear normal," she admits with an expression that could be interpreted as sadness. "In those days, I was only comfortable being myself around Julia."

But in Galeon, she found herself surrounded by like-minded people for the first time. Among them was her dear friend and current Windlord Commander, James Hawke. Hailing from Bright Town as well, Hawke was Skye's first friend and served as her gateway to the local community. The two bonded over many similarities, including their Restan origins, their respective experiences with gender, and perhaps the most important: the curse marks that signaled their windlord ancestry.

"It was practically fate for us to have met. It's one thing to have a friend who has so much in common with you, but it goes even deeper than that. James and I are the leaders specifically because of who our ancestors were."

Skye went on to explain that James Hawke was descended from the former leader of the windlords who were said to have found the mythical Skyres City over two centuries years ago. She confirmed this legendary exploit as truth while also admitting that her own ancestor was the former leader's lieutenant. When the infamous Broger the Betrayer, then the Avatar of Crane, arrived to break Crane's curse, Hawke and Skye were among his first volunteers. It was through the breaking of this curse that all of their ancestors' lost memories were transferred to the minds of their descendants.

"That's when I learned something about our curse marks," she says while showing off the dragon symbol etched into her lower back. "When our ancestors were cursed, these symbols appeared in the exact spot that Selon Res was looking when we were stricken with his magic. My ancestor was stricken in the back because he was commanded to flee. James' ancestor, on the the other hand, took the curse head on and so his mark is on the chest. His ancestor was an admirable man, and inheriting his skills in particular makes him the most capable among us."

This is where our conversation took a turn toward the Commander himself. Skye seems to talk about him with a mixture of both respect and a multitude of complaints. While he is remembered as a brave and comforting presence, Skye took plenty of time recounting specific instances in which she was annoyed by his displays of extreme confidence. But this leads to a very crucial question that Skye has stated is on the minds of most windlords. "Where is James Hawke now?"

As it turned out, Hawke was among the five people captured by the Betrayer during his eponymous betrayal. It is unknown whether he continues to live, but Skye refuses to believe he's dead. 

"He was a survivor long before he acquired our ancestors' knowledge and skills," Skye insists. "We're going to find out he's alive any day now and that he's been collecting volumes of useful data on the people of Mennon while waiting for us to rescue him."

Skye has proven to be an effective leader, providing a professional and relatable face of the modern Windlord order. It is for this reason that her faith in the Windlords' official commander seems surprising. To understand why she holds on to the faintest hope of James Hawke's survival, we decided to go deeper. As our conversation spanned deeper into Ellie Skye's shared past with Hawke, she became more comfortable.  Continued on Page 8

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist Part 5

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

The next day found Kaleth in the exact place he had been the day before, alone yet again. The only thing that was different was his possession of an antique wooden clock that Aennin had brought that morning. He would have been satisfied with that alone, but then Aennin rolled out a set of tools and insisted on spending the rest of the morning improving it. While Kaleth found it relaxing to watch him work, he definitely felt that time was wasted. Although adding an extra face with separate hands allowed him to set the time while he experimented with the other side, he wasn't particularly interested in keeping time. Instead, he whiled away the hours watching the seconds tick away on his clock. Oftentimes, he would fiddle with the dials to force the hands to turn. 

As his observations progressed through the day, he seemed to notice that the second hand would sometimes move just as quickly without interference as it did when he forced it to turn. Other times it would slow down to a point at which it appeared to have nearly stopped. He watched these occurrences, counting off each spell of sped-up and slowed-down movement in his head and counting still between these moments when the clock seemed to tick at what he thought was a reasonable rate. He stared for as long as he could, alternating winks so he could avoid blinking. He was searching for a pattern in these bursts of fractured time, but none of his counts ended at the same number. All he had managed to figure out by the middle of the afternoon was that his father's magic was truly working at random. Although Kaleth's frustration was mounting, this did not deter him from testing and recording the length of each event.

Kaleth was later startled out of this meditative study of his clock by a sharp and quick series of knocks. When he heard this, he jumped so violently that he nearly careened out of his bed. Recovering quickly, he rushed to the door and opened it carefully, making sure to frame himself between the door and frame so that the visitor he was responding to could see only his face. That was the only part of his body he was sure could pass for human. Unfortunately, this didn't allow him to see the face of the woman who barked at him in a demanding way.

"Kaleth?"

Kaleth was startled once again this woman's tone. Whoever he was talking to didn't sound friendly, but her voice sounded familiar. 

"W-who wants to know?"

The woman sighed and replied impatiently, "It's Volt. Aennin said something about me, right?"

It took the Avatar of Kerun identifying herself by name to finally recognize the voice he was listening to. He had seen her countless times since she was married to her mother's cousin Gyanda. But the person who spoke to him sounded a lot different from the Voltairine he knew. A chill ran through his spine as he stepped away from the door, saying, "Yes, I remember now! Sorry! Please come in!"

Without further preamble, Volt practically charged into the room. Once she reached the center of the room, she turned toward Kaleth as he closed the door awkwardly. As he looked into her eyes, he found no trace of her usual vigor. Instead, she wore a hollow expression that dripped with bitterness. 

"So, are you okay?"

Kaleth nodded nervously. "I am now. Aennin helped me get out of Tanis. I'd be dead now if it wasn't for him."

At the sound of Aennin's name, Volt seemed to bristle irritably and abrasively replied, "Whatever." She paused for a few moments before adding, "So, what's next?"

Kaleth was confused to have been asked this question by an Avatar and so timidly answered, "I d-don't know! I was told the Avatars were all meeting here to plan your next move. I'm just here to find my parents!"

"Well, I'm not the boss of anyone," the woman grumbled moodily. "I don't really care what happens. It's all bullshit anyway."

Kaleth was stricken dumb by these words, which he couldn't believe were coming from the Avatar of Life. Wondering what could have possibly happened to put her in such a pessimistic state, he asked, "Why do you ask that?"

The question seemed to be ill-considered as, just then,Volt turned and looked at Kaleth incredulously. "Uh, have you looked around lately?" She snapped as she threw her hands in the air. "Everyone is dead, and the only things left are these shitty mountains that are way too cold for anyone to live on without turning into an asshole! Have you met this place, Kaleth? Have you ever been anywhere else? Everything good is gone!" 

She collapsed onto Kaleth's bed, which was nearest to the door. "What's the point of trying at this point?"

Kaleth frowned sadly as Volt finished her rant. She was acting so differently from her usual self that it was almost jarring. In vain the vain hope that he could cheer her up, he said, "My mum used to tell me that there is no problem that we weren't created to overcome. That must be especially true with the miraculous powers you have!"

Volt's voice dripped with nasty sarcasm as she turned herself away from Kaleth so that her body faced the wall. "Yeah, they've done me a hell of a lot of good so far."

Kaleth couldn't believe what he was hearing. She had always had faith in the healing power she borrowed from Kerun; a power strong enough to bring the dead back to life using just her tears. Kaleth really wanted to know what she had been up to, but he couldn't think of a way to get her to do so. Finally, decided to ask honestly.

"A lot must have happened back home for you of all people to lose hope so completely. Do you want to talk about it?"

But, predictably, she flatly replied, "No."

Seeing the Avatar of Life so thoroughly defeated was beginning to make him feel miserable. It was then that he remembered the single hope he had held for this reunion. "Do you at least know where my mum and dad are?"

Volt seemed to go stiff upon hearing Kaleth's question. She paused for a few moments before slowly sitting up looking at the boy, a weary, concerned look on her face. "What?"

Kaleth sighed before repeating. "Do you know where my mum and dad are? I know my dad is still alive because his powers are protecting me, but I haven't heard anything about my mother! When Aennin told me you were coming, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me something about them!"

Volt looked severely put on the spot by Kaleth's question, and simply stared at him for a few moments, her mouth hanging open. "Uh..." She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably before looking away and swallowed. "I don't think they made it out, Kaleth. I mean, I mean...they didn't. I was there."

Kaleth's blood turned to ice. His parents, both dead? He couldn't believe it! As shock began to drain all of the color from his face, he whispered, "Where? What... what happened to them?"

Volt looked away as her eyes turned glassy and her lip began to tremble. "Don't look at me like that." She folded her arms across her chest and looked away. 

Kaleth's voice trembled as he said, "But that doesn't make any sense! My dad can't be dead right now! He wouldn't let anything happen to mum either!"

The woman looked pained as she uttered, "He couldn't do anything. He was first."

Something seemed to click in Kaleth's mind just then. If Aennin had rescued him because his father had told him to, then they had to have met after his father split up from Volt and whoever else they were with at the time. Why else would Aennin have been missing from whatever tragedy in which his father was supposed to have died according to Volt? There was only one possible answer in Kaleth's mind.

"But Aennin said he talked to him! Was he there too?"

Volt shook her head confusedly. "No..."

Kaleth's face hardened into an expression of ironclad certainty. "My dad was the reason Aennin came to look for me! If he wasn't with you when my dad supposedly died, then he has to have made it out!"

Volt looked off into the distance, confusion on her face. "I thought...but..." 

She trembled, covering her mouth with her hand. She stood up and rushed to Kaleth, putting her hands on his shoulders. "But...but...if Kartal made it out, maybe..."

"He had to have made it out!" Kaleth insisted firmly. "That has to be why his magic is working on me right now!"

Volt nodded emphatically. "Yeah! Yeah, that makes sense! And if he made it out, maybe he and Gyanda got out together!" Her eyes darted from side to side as she processed the information she was given. She manically rushed for the door. "I gotta tell Tir!"

Kaleth stared blankly at Volt as she made her hasty departure, stunned by her sudden change of mood. His certainty of his father's survival didn't extend to her husband. But if she could bring herself to smile again, even for a little while, that was enough to make himself feel slightly better.

 "Thanks for stopping by!"

"Yeah!" Volt called back, her voice now far more full of life than it had been when she entered. With that, she opened the door and sprinted away excitedly.

When she was gone, Kaleth closed the door once more with a sigh. He fell back onto his bed and picked the clock back up. He began to stare into one of its faces once again, determined to find a pattern in the way his father's magic was affecting his perception of time.

Next Chapter

Adventures in Comalan: Spiral Island

In Comalan, the spiral is a symbol of love akin to the heart. On a large island to the south of western Galeon, there is a resort devoted to this theme. Spiral Island is so named for the winding mountain that comprises the majority of the island's surface. While it was under the control of the Akis Empire during the First Age, the inhabitants chose to glorify romance in the belief that the spiral surrounding the mountain is a work of Salica's art. However, with the empire's fall, Spiral Island was ultimately abandoned. It wasn't until a Galean adventurer named Kamran Farsea set foot on the island in the year 2E160 that it would be inhabited again. His initial aim was to create a living museum in tribute to the Akisian tribe that once inhabited the island as a sort of performance art piece. The success of this project and the coming of countless visitors caused the museum to expand into a luxury resort for lovers to bask in blissful romance.

But beneath the surface of this paradise celebrating love lies a plethora of dark secrets from two different sources. The first of these is in the legacy of Kamran Farsea, who grew to regret what Spiral Island had become. What had originally been an elaborate tribute to a far gone culture had developed into a commercial exploitation of the emotions of tourists. He was said to have resisted these changes very hotly but became withdrawn when the resort was officially open. He continued to live on the island in seclusion until his death, but no one has ever managed to discover where. The current owner of the resort as of Age Three, Adin Lovejoy, has offered a standing reward for anyone who can find Farsea's old home in the hopes that he was hiding ancient scrolls that might contain insight on the unique magic contained within the island's natural environment.

The second of these mysteries lies in the spiral of the island of itself, which seems to be marked with layer of stone that's inconsistent with the soft earth composing the mountain. The oddity of this stone formation fuels speculation that the gods have arranged this island deliberately for some reason. Whether their reasoning for doing so is related to the romantic significance that Akisians have attached to it is highly doubted in academia, but the Salican clergy takes a more positive stance on this question. 

Possibly related to this is the strangest aspect of the island, which is the very bliss that people feel while staying there. For whatever reason, the atmosphere seems to attract visitors to want to stay indefinitely. Those who spend more than a week there often find themselves extending their stays for even longer, which the resort enables by allowing people to stay without compensation in exchange for work. The longer people stay there, the less they want to leave. While most people attribute this to the island's natural charm, the Windlords have taken a particular interest in this quality. Where most explain this mystery with nature or magic, they seem to sense a conspiracy among the resort's staff.

Spiral Island remains a site of natural beauty and the resort built upon it is equipped with countless amenities to help people celebrate and inspire their romance. But for any but the most dedicated adventurers, the island's powerful allure is a trap for any who don't limit their enjoyment of the resort to a few days.

Forbidden Magic

One of the most diverse subjects in Comalan is magic. Magical energy can be found nearly everywhere, and magical practitioners have found countless possible applications. While most magic from elemental magic to medical mysticism draws power from divine sources, there are some sorts of magic that do not owe their origins to the gods. For most people, to use such magic is considered an act of sacrilege. This limits the knowledge of such disciplines to a scant few. What's more is that these disciplines each seem to be anathema to each of the elder gods themselves.

Blood Magic

Blood magic is the discipline of performing spells using blood as a reagent. While elven and dwarven blood will suffice, it is well known that no race is as in tune with the power of blood as humanity is. The magic that blood mages draw seems to come from the life force of mortals themselves, and its most powerful spells have been shown to burn through sources of divine power with little effort. It is for this reason that blood magic is considered anathema to Chaos, whose clergy have expressed scorn at the idea that mortals could produce power which rivals that of the gods on their own. While blood magic is associated with acts of horror, it is also a source of healing as well. It was the unique ability of blood mages to treat the Curse of Suffering that finally earned blood mage covens the legitimacy to come out and practice their craft openly in the Third Age.

Dark Magic

Dark magic results from a negative magical energy that is known to erode normal magic. It is this quality that makes users of dark magic particularly fearsome enemies of any other magic user. The use of dark magic seems to revolve around upsetting the natural order of things. This is seen primarily in a dark mage's liberal use of forced transfiguration on living creatures and the manipulation of other people's minds. Unlike blood magic, dark magic is tied only to some of the worst atrocities in history and doesn't seem to have any positive applications. That, and the insistence of Intalan priests that Crane considers dark magic to be a threat to all of nature, make dark magic even more stigmatized than blood magic. Every possible use of dark magic on record seems to indicate that its users ultimately lose control of themselves in the face of the seductive ease with which dark magic changes reality. It is for this reason that dark magic faces strict prohibition even in Galeon, whose population is otherwise tolerant of any obscure form of magic.

Soul Magic

Soul magic is the magical discipline of viewing and interacting directly with the soul. Using this craft requires only eye contact with the person whose soul you want to cast on. Once that eye contact is established, the soul mage can interact with fragments of the target's psyche in a vision of the place that person considers to be home. These fragments often take the form of people the owner of the soul knows which they feel exemplify their best and worst qualities. Fragments of light represent the soul's positive qualities and show up as helpful guides while fragments of darkness represent the qualities of the soul that the owner is ashamed of and often present a hostile presence for visitors. The nature of the caster's interaction with these fragments determines the spell that they use. Unfortunately, masters of soul magic are rare, and its very practice is under criticism by the Salican church for enabling the forced change of a victim's entire personality.

Fell Magic

Fell magic is the act of casting facsimiles of fey magic by using the bodies of fey creatures as reagents. This is similar to the practice of blood magic, but differs in the fact that magic can be found in every part of a fey creature's body. There seems to be a lot of overlap between practitioners of Fell and Dark magic, but many authorities consider fell magic to be far less dangerous. Since fey creatures are so elusive outside certain forbidden regions of Tanis and Resta, practicing fell magic often carries no legal consequences whatsoever. Even so, users of this magic will find no friends in the followers of Serenity, who is often associated with fey creatures of all types. 

Death Touch Chapter 27

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Seth

“You can’t be serious!”

Seth shook his head, full of mirth towards Sam’s panicked expression. When he pulled her away from the others to tell her she would be fighting in the tournament with him and Clint, he had expected this reaction. But he couldn’t let this deter his decision. She hadn’t been much help to him in Lightning Ridge, so her abilities in a fight were still an unknown quality. I need to find out now if she has any talent.

“Calm down!” Seth snapped, a little testily. “I was competing in this tournament long before I joined the Academy! If you can’t make it through a few a rounds with me and Clint, you’re only wasting both of our time by following me.”

Sam gawked at the spellwarrior for a few moments, but a look of realization crept into her face. “Is this some sort of test?”

Seth nodded with a slight smile. Gods, she is quick on the uptake! “In our first year competing, we were able to make it to the third round. If your stamina can’t hold out for at least that long, the entry exam would crush you.”

“Fine,” she exclaimed with a stubborn glare. “If you want me to prove I belong in the Academy, that’s just what I’ll do! You won’t be getting rid of me so easily!”

Seth smirked and replied only with the words, “We’ll see.”

With that, Seth led Sam to the armory tent where Clint was waiting with mostly-complete forms. He held them out to him and said, “Just sign and we’re ready to go.”

Having seen this entry form several times before, Seth signed without hesitation, but Sam had taken a minute to read it. 

She looked up from the front page with a frown. “What is this about mortal injury? I’ve never heard of anyone dying at these tournaments!”

Seth rolled his eyes. “It’s not supposed to happen with the weapons they provide, though it does happens once in a while. The tournament’s as safe as any event in which we arm ourselves and beat each other senseless can be, but accidents happen.”

Clint nodded in agreement. “It’s there because it’s better to know what you’re getting into. But that’s the sort of risk people are willing to accept for the Royal Boon. They are the most coveted prize in the kingdom and they only give out three a year.”

“Just sign the damn paper,” Seth said grunted. “If such a small chance of death scares you so much, you wouldn’t last a day as a peacekeeper.

Sam rolled her eyes and signed her name on the form. Upon taking it back, Clint smiled and said, “Don’t worry. We’re going to be pulling most of the weight, so you can just focus on defending yourself.”

***

An hour later found Seth, Clint, and Sam standing behind a curtain outside of a wide, circular pit of sand enclosed within a gigantic red tent. Stadium bleachers were positioned over the tunnel in which they waited, causing the walls around them to vibrate with the stomps of an excited crowd. Sam was a bundle of nerves in the final minutes leading to their first match, but Seth didn’t care. He was almost overwhelmed with joy to be standing where they were again.

“Hey Clint,” he said with a smile. “You remember the last time we were here?”

Clint shook his head and smirked. “Nope. Only that you ditched me last year!”

Seth rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically, “I tried to get them to postpone the exam that day, but you can’t just take a day off from camping on a desert island.”

Sam looked up at him questioningly, but she didn’t need to say anything for him to add, “Endurance final. We had to prove we’re able to survive a chase to the ends of the world by spending an entire summer on an island called Ravager, or the most dangerous land in the world.”

Sam sighed and said, “How does anyone do that? That’s insane!”

Seth watched with regret as she hung her head. I’ve been such an asshole!

He clapped her shoulder and said, “You get stronger. Don’t worry. That test is years into your future. Just focus on your apprenticeship for now.”

Sam nodded as a look of determination returned to her face, “I just have to make it through two full rounds and I can keep following you, right?”

Seth smiled and had begun to reply, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the booming voice of the male half of the tournament’s beloved announce team. 

“Welcome, ladies and gents, to the opening match of this year’s Resta Grand Tournament! In honor of our summer festival and the War God himself, sixty-four teams will perform acts of strength! Agility! Magic! All for the entertainment of our fine celebrants and the most highly-coveted prize in all of Resta! I, your faithful servant Mark “The East Wind” Winstrom will be here to report the blood, sweat, tears, and amazing spectacles in our immediate future alongside my colleague, former RGT champion and award-winning fight columnist, Marla Harret!”

“That’s right, Mark,” the female commentator said in a sharp voice. “The Royal Boon is the sweetest treasure in the world. Imagine, if you will, vast riches out of the queen’s own coffers! Your own governorship! A fleet commissioned in your name! Gods, the possibilities that await every fighter out there brave enough to survive just six rounds of three versus three combat!”

“And the first of those six fights start now for our first teams!” Mark said in a booming voice. “Introducing, in the red hemisphere, welcome back Team Salamander!”

Seth prodded Sam in between her shoulder blades. “That’s us! Let’s go!”

The three of them stepped through the curtain and towards the center of the pit as Mark continued, “Team Salamander is a longtime crowd favorite, rejoining us after an absence from last year’s tournament!”

“The RGT was abuzz with speculation last year that they sat out the tournament after their crushing defeat by Team Hornet in the championship match,” Marla added. “This is not just their first tournament in two years, this is the first appearance of captain Seth Midas and Clint Blackstone in the festival since that bitter defeat. But looking down at them now, I see no shortage of their usual confidence!”

“You can knock them down, but they always come back stronger!” Mark exclaimed excitedly. “But after two years, will they be returning with newfound polish or an encumbering layer of rust! As always, they are joined a new teammate, name o’ Samantha Desmond! This will be her first appearance in the RGT!”

“Well, the audience seems glad to have them back! They have always been popular for their flashy antics and steady yearly rise in the rankings,” Marla reported. “It will be interesting to see if the extra time away gave them time to build a championship-caliber duo.”

“Introducing next, from the black hemisphere, the hard-hitting, hammer dropping trio, Team Swampback!”

Seth chortled as three familiar meatheads stormed into the sand-pit, waving their wooden hammers with unnatural ease. While Sam went white at the sight of them, he nudged Clint in the ribs and chortled.

“This will be an interesting first-round match up! For those of you who remember the last time these five people have stood in this pit together, Team Salamander set a tournament record by scoring a swift victory in one minute and thirty-seven seconds! Team Swampback had a comfortable run to the semi-finals in the following year, but now that Team Salamander has returned, could this be their chance for revenge?”

Seth knelt down to whisper into Sam’s ear. “I’ve never seen a Hem Academy student who couldn’t run circles around guys like these. You can take them all.”

Sam looked up at Seth with a look of skepticism. “How? They’re humongous! I bet my attacks wouldn’t hurt them at all!”

Seth looked to Clint. “Gel shots.”

Clint smirked as he loaded a purple bullet into his rifle. “Not going for another record, I take it?”

Seth shook his head and smirked. “I’m going to focus on being a mentor for now, if you don’t mind.”

Clint nodded to Seth, then to Sam. “Good luck, out there!”

“Let the first round… BEGIN!”

Seth immediately sheathed his practice sword and smirked. “Go on, then!”

Sam looked unsure, but he only waved her off. “Just stay on your feet and don’t stand still! If they rear their hammers, they’re getting ready to swing. Focus on getting as many hits as you can and stay out of the way of their attacks. Don’t worry about power, just try to keep them off balance.”

The Swampbacks glared at Seth in shock as Mark shouted, “For some reason, Midas doesn’t appear to be taking this fight seriously! Could Team Salamander be checked out already, or have they already declared their victory before the first attack was launched?”

Seth rolled his eyes and shooed Sam away. With a gulp, she began to run toward the three burly men, who in turn charged toward Seth and Clint with rage in their eyes. However, the crowd’s attention was set on Sam, whose sprint allowed her to close the distance between herself and the opponents in just seconds. She opened her offensive by jabbing one of the men in the knee with her quarterstaff without stopping her sprint. The man sprawled facedown into the sand and the crowd roared with delight.

“Incredible! Desmond takes down David Hawke in one blindingly fast motion! Could Team Salamander have finally found the final piece to their unfinished puzzle?” Mark exclaimed excitedly.

“That remains to be seen, Mark,” Marla replied. “Her teammates don’t appear to have moved since the clock started and the rookie is now surrounded! If Team Salamander doesn’t wake up, they could be down a member soon!”

Seth shrugged and said, “Give her a covering shot.”

Just as Hawke pushed himself to his feet, Clint splashed his face with a well-aimed gel capsule fired from the muzzle of his gun. The force of the shot knocked him sprawling onto his back this time. Seth looked at Clint with a look of irritation, but Clint only shook his head. “I can’t help it! Weaker bullets, same gun.”

“Blackstone takes a shot at Hawke and puts him down for good as Desmond continues to avoid Temple and Dario!” Mark called out. 

“And still, Midas hasn’t made a move! What IS Team Salamander’s strategy here?”

Win without accidentally killing anyone. Seth shook his head as he began to notice the murmurs in the crowd. Moments later, their attention was taken by Sam, who had managed to knock another of the Swambacks with a lucky jab, which caught him in the chest midstep. 

“The girl’s got more than speed!” Mark shouted. “With a powerful shot, Desmond sends Dario flying!”

Clint glanced at Seth, who shook his head. “Wait.”

Dario recovered quickly and regrouped with his teammate. The two of them advanced on Sam, their imposing figures forming a wall in front of her. Clint nudged Seth and gestured toward the other team with a more insistent look, but still he shook his head. Sam began to backpedal, looking for some further help.

Marla’s voice boomed through the tent just then. “The time now is at 1 minute and forty seconds, which already makes this round longer than the previous clash between these teams! But did Team Salamander fail to break its previous record because their opponents have improved or because their hearts aren’t in this fight?”

Seth watched as the other team began to chase Sam, unable to keep up with her speed. Finally, he decide that Sam had gained enough experience. “This way!”

At Seth’s Sam began to flee for the refuge of her teammates. When she ran past Clint, Seth nodded and murmured. “Oil spray.”

“Desmond has regrouped with her teammates and Blackstone seems to be loading up his next shot!” Mark reported as Clint indeed loaded a black bullet into his rifle. With a nod from Seth, Clint fired a shot which struck Temple in the chest and exploded into a cloud of dark oil that seemed to envelop both members of the team. They stopped in their tracks, confused by this unusual attack. But Seth’s grin seemed to turn this confusion into panic rather quickly. Too late! 

“Amul dala oki!”

Seth’s incantation caused an arc of black flames to cut through the air. The attack cut through the oily mist and caused a small explosion. The crowd gasped as the two men were swallowed by a quick blast of dark fire. When the fire and smoke cleared from the spot, both men were sprawled to the ground, covered in burns. A loud bass drum beat signaled the end of the fight, which mingled with a roar of approval for the crowd.

“Incredible! Just when you think they’re checked out, Midas and Blackstone score another easy victory over Team Swampback with an amazing new combination attack!” Mark chattered excitedly. “Now, had they done this from the beginning, who knows what the new tournament record could be! By the Gods, get some healers out here! These men are cooked!”

“In the aftermath of this confusing battle, only now is it clear what was going on down there,” Marla said in a tone of begrudging respect. “Team Swampback may have held the total advantage in physical strength, but they just couldn’t measure up to the Twin Salamanders in any other way. With Blackstone’s awareness and Midas’ magic, the only thing to test here for Team Salamander was the speed of their new teammate!”

“And what an impressive first showing she has made!” Mark exclaimed. “Team Salamander scores an easy first victory, but there are sixty-two other teams between them and the Royal Boon! They seem to have finally found a competent third, so this RGT could very well be the year of the Salamander!”

While Clint worked the crowd, Seth turned to Sam and whispered. “You did well! If we had the time to drag this out, you could have absolutely won this one without us.”

Sam nodded a little deliriously. “I didn’t even know what I was doing until you called back to me!”

Seth grinned and clapped her shoulders. “Then you may just have the instincts of a spellwarrior after all. Let’s go get a drink. You deserve it.”

Next Chapter

Forms of Titan: Lucky

Lucky, a form of Titan (Art by Volt)

Among the gods' familiars, Titan is unique in that it has a multitude of possible forms. For today's update, we introduce the one resulting from bonding with Serenity's stone guardian, Amologra, and a geoli. As Lucky, Titan is able to ignore time itself as he moves around, giving him the appearance of an unmoving statue that seems to warp from location to location as he runs. In addition to his time-bending movement abilities, his stone body makes him heavy, which makes his tail whips particularly strong.

When interacting normally with time, Lucky shows the temperament of a friendly, docile dog. As a committed canine statue, he is one of Titan's few nonverbal forms, preferring to communicate as a dog would instead. The influence of Amologra's personality and the fey disposition of geoli towards Geos make him particularly loyal to two people in addition to Titan's own mistress, Nidarys and her Avatar.

It Comes For Those Who Don't Run Part 7

Back to the Beginning

Previous

It lumbers toward you with a deliberate gait...

As Nazan had suggested, Aennin ran as fast as he could for home. Ignoring the confused and perturbed looks of passerby, he weaved through the crowds that had formed along the streets as the morning proceeded. He was terrified. Of Nazan, for Samiel, and for his family. His control over his life had begun to slip away from the moment he woke up that morning and he was only just then realizing it. How was he going to explain this to his parents? How was his father going to react to what Nazan had done? What were they going to do about Katim now that the shop's money was long gone?

Aennin was so distracted by this question that he cut around an elderly woman without looking around her. In his haste, he bumped into a stranger at top speed, but strangely found himself sprawling backward to the ground without having even managed to disturb his gait. Aennin looked up as the stranger's legs stopped moving to see an elf with a rough, lined face that was tinged with a two day-old stubble. His thick, silver hair hung down to his neck and his left ear appeared to have been cropped short. He glared expectantly at the Aennin, as if making an unspoken demand.

Aennin was at a loss for words. It was all he could manage to stutter, "S-sorry!"

The man nodded to him, momentarily satisfied. He held his hand out to help him up. "Shouldn't a kid your age be in school?"

"I was expelled!" Aennin yelped, unsure of why he was answering so honestly.

The man shocked him by replying with a grin. "I hope whatever you did was worth it."

Disarmed by the stranger's response, Aennin sighed. "I thought it was at the time, but now I'm not so sure."

The man raised his eyebrows, but then whispered. "If that's so, it's not too late to turn your irrevocable choice into a new opportunity."

Aennin's skin prickled as he whispered back, "What do you mean?"

The man smiled like so many elven merchants did when they were closing on a sale. "This is Bronze Street! There are plenty of opportunities for a kid with quick legs like yours and an abundance of free time to make some good coin!"

You can feel its breath...

Aennin shook his head and said, "I'm sorry! I can't! I need to go!"

Far from stopping him, the stranger smirked. "I won't stop you if you're not ready for the easy life. If you change your mind, you can find me at the bar just outside Trinity Square. Ask for Katim!"

Aennin managed to hold back a gasp and nodded awkwardly. "Thanks!"

The man chuckled again, this time at Aennin's unusual response. "Well, wherever you were off to in such a hurry, I suppose you'd better get going, huh?"

Without further hesitation, Aennin continued his sprint for home while thinking about how he was now running away from and towards something at the same time. He had never before seen Katim in person, and was surprised to find that he was so capable of being pleasant. He had pictured a darker, much uglier person when he listened to Katim smashing his clocks so furiously. If he weren't so terrified of the man, he might have even been tempted by his offer. He still knew better than to take his apparent kindness at face value, but the list of alternatives Aennin faced seemed thin at this point anyway.

Aennin would not stop running again until he approached his apartment. The muscles in his legs screamed in protest; it felt like he had been on his feet all day already. His whole body screamed for rest as he found the door. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him to take a break. Right then. Before he could even open the door, he should just stop. But why would he? He turned the handle and stumbled inside with a sigh.

The next step, he thought to himself, would be to fall onto something in the sitting room and try to tell his mother what happened. All things considered, their last conversation had been the most positive one they'd had in two years. Maybe she would still be sober and she could sort everything out like she had when he was a child. If nothing else, he felt the need to apologize to her for something.

It lets out a hungry snarl...

"Mother, I'm home!" he called out as he closed the door behind him.

He had expected her to respond with a drunken grumble, or even a reproachful remark about returning home so early from school. What he heard instead was a choking gasp and a cough. His blood ran cold as he rushed into the sitting room to figure out what he had just heard. With a pang, he found the source of the ominous noise sprawled across the floor.

Anera lied there, badly bloodied and swollen from the neck up. Her face was completely unrecognizable under the signs of a terrible beating. Blood trickled from a broken nose, leaving her to breath desperately through her engorged lips. As he looked upon this horrifying sight, Aennin could feel everything within him freezing. He knelt beside her and moaned with her pain for a few moments before his wits jolted his body back into motion.

"Please! Hold on! I'm going to get a healer! I'll be..."

He attempted to stand up again without finishing his sentence, but Anera had grabbed his shirt. She shook her head weakly and sputtered, "Find Kana!"

Aennin shook his head desperately. "No! You need help!"

"You can't help me now!" The woman managed to choke out, followed by a long wheeze. "Find Kana! And kill your... asshole father."

Aennin could not stop the tears from flowing his eyes. He knew what was coming next. He wanted to run away, but he was paralyzed. "Mother! Please don't!"

"Don't let her..." Anera had begun to say before trailing off.

Through the shock which gripped him in that moment, one word managed to bring him back to his senses. Kana! He body felt unnaturally heavy as he stood up and left to find his sister, forever unaware of what he wasn't supposed to allow her to do.

Next

Adventures in Comalan: Muldwarof Temple

In the northern part of Marble Desert, to the west of the elven settlement of Oasis and near where the sand meets the mountains, there lies a temple that stands as monument to the violence of Tanis' path. Muldwarof Temple is known as the final resting place of the last dwarves known to have seen the surface during the First Age. It is a recommended location for a customary pilgrimage taken by elves with doubts about their society. In observing the tombs of a society believed to be destroyed by genocide, the elves reflect on the barbarism that once ruled their homeland and in the superior values of modern Tanisian society. But like all structures in Tanis, a lot more to this temple lying beneath the surface.

Shortly before the end of the Second Age, elven visitors to Muldwarof found a secret passage in a coffin leading into a deep tunnel. Where this tunnel leads has been the subject of years of speculation and debate Some believe that the tunnel leads to the Oasis, or the capitol city of Orion, which are the nearest towns to the temple. If this is the case, no one has ever managed to find a similar passage in either place. Another prevailing theory is that this tunnel leads into the far subterranean territory that the surviving dwarves were believed to have been driven to. Proponents of this idea suggest that the dwarves created the tunnel themselves so they could make journeys to the temple as well in secret, but no living dwarf was seen using it.

Explorers who chose to explore this tunnel almost never return for reasons revealed only by the scant few who have. As the adventurer plumbs deeper into the tunnel's depths, they soon find themselves assailed by twists and turns that seem to defy logic. Backtracking never seems to lead back the surface. Attempting to leave a trail inevitably fails as the markers seem to rearrange themselves. Those who have escaped this unnatural labyrinth all admit to having done so through pure luck. Without exception, they admit to only escaping the underground after giving up on navigating it. Whatever lies at the source of this curiosity, one thing remains clear: those wishing to explore the Muldwarof tunnel must forget everything they know about subterranean exploration.

This mystery has given birth to a legend of its own about an explorer who claims to have seen what lies at the end of this tunnel. Hailing from Galeon, Saira Sadalbari famously declared that she reached the end of the labyrinth. This claim has been disputed for years, owing to the lack of evidence she produced of her journey and the fact that she remained cagey about what she found. She died without ever telling anyone where the tunnel leads, but left everyone with a tantalizing message. While she was in the deepest part of the tunnel, she allegedly left something behind: a personal treasure that proves she fully explored Muldwarof and remains valuable enough to be a prize for the next person brave and lucky enough to do the same.

For centuries, Muldwarof has humbled and confounded the people of Tanis. While tourism in this temple remains a constant in the elves' culture on the surface, the constantly evolving mystery of Muldwarof's caverns has drawn some of the bravest souls and sharpest minds. Even with the eventual resurgence of the dwarven race in the Third Age, most of its questions remain unanswered and all possibilities remain unconfirmed. 

The Magister's Rage Part 9

Read this from the beginning!

Back to Part 8

I have never been more terrified of Garanda than I was in the five years he was unaccounted for. Broger had encouraged me not to think of him anymore, but he would not say why. This was a source of some contention between us for the entirety of Garanda's disappearance, but I've learned in my time with him that even the knowledge that he is lying to you makes no difference. Applying Empathy allowed me to determine that his intentions towards me were peaceful, or neutral at the very least. Scrying his blood failed to yield any insight into his technique for ridding me of the Demon Knight. Studying the residual magic on his farm also proved pointless since soul magic, the only discipline he was known to use since becoming sai'mul, leaves no such residue.

The fact that he was such a secretive man was inconvenient because someone of his intellect was far too adept at concealing those secrets. This was a source of frustration because I had never had to oppose someone who was more intelligent than me. For his part, he seemed to treat my attempts to discover the truth of Garanda's fate as a game. Every new strategy that failed to outsmart him only heightened his enjoyment of my failures. He knew there was no spell with which I could hope to coerce him to give me the truth.

It became clear after months of this that I would need some help to outsmart him. So, I began my search for Clint Blackstone, the Champion of Crane. It may seem desperate to rely on one with a personal connection to the embodiment of knowledge in most situations, but I had a reason. The man I sought was Broger's older brother, the only man who has every managed to out-think him. Unfortunately, I was not aware that he had led refugees to another world to escape the Geosian Regime that concluded the Second Age. It was in learning this that I found myself embroiled in Michael Blackstone's resistance to the Regime.

My involvement with the Resistance was limited since I had reason to keep my identity secret. I was reluctant to set aside my quest for Garanda or take further risk of depriving my daughters of their father, but I was moved by Michael's passion. He was a Blackstone by name, but he was a descendant of Seth Midas like his mother and I saw a lot of the late champion's spirit in him. Remembering the pain I felt upon learning that I had wounded my kin, I saw Michael as a chance to repent for the blood I once took from my family.

I actually worked with them under two different handles without revealing my true name or face and have never once referred to myself by either name after the Geosian Regime fell. This was because my own identity was necessarily concerned with something besides the Regime, but I could not bring myself to ignore the Resistance's plight. As Firehawk, I lent Michael my council regarding magical matters. His mother had two decades with which to fortify Gilded Keep and sabotaging the spell glyphs which composed its barriers was my primary responsibility. In this way, I indirectly assisted the Second Archknight by opening the path between him and the Geosian Queen. But it was in the guise of a mercenary named Boomfist that I had participated in battle on the Resistance's behalf. I confess that I had some fun with this persona. I am not ordinarily the sort to punch my way through everything in front of me, but I saw this as an opportunity to control the Silverfist magic that I had never got to perfect before my expulsion from Hem Academy. It seemed tragic to let such a rare talent go to waste simply because it does not match my own temperament.

When I wore my Boomfist mantle, I would release my conscious mind to the gorilla whose form I took. This was reckless to be sure, but after years of feeling Garanda's absence, I was perhaps a little too eager to give up control to something more powerful. In doing so, I learned a few things about mental control that would help me with Garanda. But when I realized that I had learned to control my Silverfist form, I was chilled to think of the Demon Knight. Could I actually have missed him?

In retrospect, I think not. But in those days, I had concerned myself with many implications of these thoughts. Was it possible that I secretly coveted Garanda's power? Has the magic that marked my destiny conditioned me to accept his presence? The answer I settled on was by far the bleakest: Garanda's absence was just a temporary reprieve from a fate I could not escape.

Continue to Part 10!

Adventures in Comalan: Lapis Lake

Each major noble family in Heron has an ancestral home that has been passed down through their family line since the original clans first settled their territories. The Karns have the Aurora Lodge, a large, warm refuge at the top of Mount Phoenix that is known for housing some of Heron's most valued historical artifacts. The Crowmonts have the Scarlet Manor, a majestic castle on an islet bordered by a long thicket of rosebushes. Then, there is the Crystal Hall; a shining complex of marble, gold, and glass. The Piers family has considered the Hall their pride for centuries. With the recent ascension of Aden Piers to the lordship, some of the more ostentatious decor has been sold off and the originals restored, but the Hall is still known as one of Heron's most lavish estates. Even more spectacular, however, is the alpine valley the estate resides in. The main complex is in a clearing bordered by mountain views and pine forest. The shining jewel, however, is Lapis Lake, which reaches from the eastern, glass-walled side of Crystal Hall, all the way to the city of Eydisthorpe.

While Lapis Lake is technically a string of smaller lakes connected through streams and separated only through two thin land bridges, it is generally referred to as one, large body of water, and as such, is restricted in its entirety from being freely used by the people of Eydisthorpe, despite being so near to the city. Not that this would be an issue; the Piers family tends to view the lake as sacred, and common people in Piers Territory consider entering the water to be bad luck. Even so, the shores farther from the estate are meticulously patrolled by the Crystal Hall Guard. 

For many older residents of Eydisthorpe who have had family ties to the city for generations, the superstition and folklore surrounding Lapis Lake goes far beyond simple bad luck in exchange for disrespecting His Lordship. Some stories even go so far as to claim that there are fey forces at work beneath the surface, but these are largely disbelieved nowadays. In addition, the notion has been publicly denied by the Piers family, who strongly emphasize that the lake is restricted for preservation reasons, and that the punishment from the Guard for trespass would be far worse than any magical trickery. Privately, however, the family is said by those close to estate to hold an ancestral reverence for the lake, along with a set of esoteric beliefs about the nature of the deep. The Piers' long-time servants will be familiar with the rituals that the family carries out at certain times of the year and on special family occasions that seem to signal a deep connection with the Lake, and that indicate that there may indeed be some sort of presence below the surface. 

While it is true that because of either superstition or heavy security, very few outside the family have been able to thoroughly explore Lapis Lake, there are certainly those who wish to try. These people have varying motives; defiance against the nobility, rumors of a secret passage into the estate, or simple curiosity about the true nature of the Lake and the ancient folklore that speaks of the presence of magical beings. No matter the reason they tried, nobody has gotten far enough to discover the Lake's truth. Or, at the very least, none who have have returned to tell the tale. 

Phoenix Blade Chapter 1

Prologue

Yes, I'm sure you're eager to hear about Shaville. I knew it was about time to head home when that malcontent started gaining steam in the capitol before the Geosian uprising.

...

Yeah, that older daughter of the Chaotic champion who married the Stone Dragon. When people talk about the uprising, a lot of people only talk about the final year, when Midas finally got off his ass and started doing something about them. He didn't know this, but that woman had been attending rallies in the capitol for decades. While I was in the Inquisition, I went to one of the first rallies she ever led and I never saw any difference between the woman on that stage and the one who sat the throne. Her ideas were dangerous and I didn't want my daughters exposed to them. So, we packed up and moved back to my home village. It is about as far west as you can get without stepping into... well, your country. I did so because I was hoping to give my girls the peaceful, wholesome upbringing I had. I've never been afraid to walk into conflicts like the uprising, but I didn't want it in my yard, you know?

...

Well, Sophia didn't take the threat seriously, so she resented me uprooting everyone. The only reason I'm glad she's sai'mul like me is because she survived to see me vindicated. Karen Blackstone was nothing but trouble, and she has to know now that if I had chosen our new home better, we could have protected all three of them.

...

No. I'm not guilty about my choice. I regret it now in hindsight, but I had no way of knowing that it was infested with some of the most evil bastards to call themselves human. I wanted to believe it was the same as ever, and at first, that's the way it seemed. I'm just angry about being deceived. I'll probably take that out on every warlock I ever get my hands on for the rest of my life.

...

Well, what good does it do us to lie about that? I've never needed a reason to be honest, but if I'm not in this case, people could die, right?

...

I'm not worried. Either you'll decide I can be trusted and renegotiate our contract or you won't and I will go back to the work we agreed upon. You can make up your mind on your own, but it won't help to omit anything. If any of the people I'm to be hunting bring dark magic to the fight, they may never see the inside of a cell.

...

I stood shoulder to shoulder with spellwarriors in the Inquisition and I've been paid to track down some of Hem Academy's more troublesome dropouts since the Purge. I think I know enough about magic to tell the difference. I think we both know I can handle magic users or we wouldn't be talking right now.

...

Well, you got me there. These warlocks had been getting away with their shit under my nose for years and I don't have much excuse for that. But let's get this right. I knew something was going on nearly the whole time. The warlocks were good at covering their tracks, but they let just enough go with every crime for me to work it out slowly. It was my duty to keep the town safe, but it was difficult to find solid evidence of a crime more serious than public fornication.

...

Yes, that was one of the warlocks' tricks. Every lustful impulse in the village was magically amplified. They farmed their succubi by driving these feelings beyond their victims' control to the point that the ambient dark magic that they filled our town with would respond to their lust and transform them.

...

That's just how the spellwarriors and their templar hanger-on explained it. I'm not exactly an expert on lust or magic, so I'm afraid that's as specific as my description gets.

...

No, their operation for creating wrathar was, if possible, even harder to catch. The people fucking themselves stupid in the streets were a lot more visible than the meatheads who fought it out in the Fight Pit.

...

No, they're not legal in Resta. Anymore.

...

Anyone who fought in the pit was basically asking for the warlocks to warp their minds with mindless aggression. Their process for creating succubi couldn't have been so efficient because if you put a cage around most people, the last thing on their mind is sex. But put someone in a cage and a weapon in their hands, they have no problem with fighting. Everyone I've ever known who fought there disappeared. Guess where.

...

Sure. I've had to break up plenty more fights than I remember from childhood. The people involved weren't usually fighters, but spectators. But I could guarantee that if I didn't get them out of town quickly enough, they'd end up in the center of that pit eventually. Fortunately, those poor fools were the easiest to save because their fights were plenty of reason to banish them from village. I could grab two idiots fighting trying to rip out each other's throats, send them out of here on separate buses, and they'd be fine a few days later.

...

It was a slow process realizing something was wrong. All of the sex was the first sign. It took me longer to notice the fighting because I'd seen plenty of it in the city. But what ultimately tipped me off was how much everyone seemed to love being there. In those days, Shaville was a complete shithole compared to when I was growing up there, but nobody ever wanted to leave. The village was always crawling with tourists even though the fucking Pit and a small Theater were the most interesting places we had there. And without fail, I'd hear them talking about moving there permanently. You'd think such a popular place would have an explosive population, right?

...

Well, it didn't. People showed up in droves and nobody ever seemed to leave, but we never had to build any new houses. There was no shortage of space, but nobody on the outgoing buses. Some of those tourists did become part of the village, but they only seemed to replace the longtime locals who were disappearing too. I knew that my job had become harder than it had for the old constable and yet people were still going there never to be seen again. There had to be a reason, and I spent all of a decade trying to find it.

...

I did say this was about Sophia, didn't I? Well, we never had the strongest of marriages. We used to be the best of friends, but she had needs that I could never empathize with. But Shaville had plenty of outlets for her frustration that she frequently took advantage of. I tried to ignore that it was happening, thinking she could at least be happy with fucking tourists.

...

No, this isn't about my cheating wife. I didn't care what she did with her sexuality as long as she kept it out of my bed. But I think that by turning a blind eye, I encouraged her to get bolder. She eventually stopped respecting even that boundary. I'd already had it up to here with the surge in petty crime by that point, so I decided then that I wanted to move again. But for Sophia and my daughters, the trap was already sprung. My family had all reacted differently to moving to Shaville, but they were unanimous in their firm desire to stay. So, there was nothing I could do but watch as they became regular parts of a village that I was convinced was far from normal.

...

Well, I continued to work with the spellwarriors trying to get to the bottom of things, but it wasn't going well. They started to show signs of being seduced by Shaville's curse and I was at my wit's end. I found them arguing with their templar friend just before the Purge. They were arguing against some evil that the templar was considering at the time which I only realize in retrospect was her plan to muster the entire Blackstone Order and destroy the whole village and kill all of its inhabitants. At the time, I thought that the templar had been confronted by the Fight Pit, and I tried to put her out of my mind when she disappeared. I thought she was just another wrathar being shipped off to some warlord's army, but she actually left. Even I couldn't do that!

...

Well, Sophia destroyed whatever semblance of a bond we had just before the Purge. It started with finding out my middle child Sasha was whoring herself to tourists. I had never been so angry! She was out on her ass almost immediately, but Sophia took issue with that. She could have tried to remind me of my love for our daughter. Or that I was obligated to be a father to her no matter what she did. Instead, she called me a prude and criticized me for not being as sexually active as she was.

...

Look, don't get me wrong. It's not as if I care about others expressing their sexuality. But some people can't handle it, and that's why doing it in public is against the law. Any constable would be disappointed in their children for resisting the charter they had dedicated themselves to upholding. I'm not even against those who wish to sell their sexual skills for a time. I might have felt different about it back then, especially where my daughter was concerned, but I can only barely remember the days when my sword arm wasn't for sale. A bit hypocritical, right?

...

Yes, I'm ashamed of how I treated her. All I can say in my defense was that I was already paranoid at the time. I knew that dark magic was in play and I had long since ceased to trust anybody, even my family who insisted that we stay.

...

Maybe I was affected by the curse too. I managed to avoid the warlock's corruption, but I was stuck there as surely as everyone else. I wouldn't leave without my family, but I was powerless to get them to leave. I wonder a lot about whether they could have been saved if I'd taken the choice away from them. I could never have done so back then, though. Not just because I wouldn't have wanted to but because I know it would have been impossible. It was clear by the time I had started to figure out what was going on that nobody needed me at home.

...

Well, we argued about Sasha all night, but she was back the next day as if we had settled on what Sophia had wanted. Just like that, the entire household had turned against me. All four of them had become more brazen with their corrupted lifestyles for their last week while just berating the hell out of me for daring to question them.

...

It wasn't even the worst week I've had but it was definitely up there. My reputation around the village was for being a quack and they began wasting no opportunity to repeat it to me. I had six hellish days, seven infuriating hours, and twenty-three fucking minutes in which my family beat the notion that I had lost them into my head.

...

What changed? I found my youngest, Emily, beginning to turn. She thought she could hide that she was growing a tail, but you can't keep that a secret from someone who is both your father and a trained investigator on high alert. By the gods, when I saw that fucking tail, I stripped every single one of them and their mother to find more evidence of transformation.

...

Fangs in my wife's mouth. Fucking wing nubs on Penny. And Sasha? She was hiding several large splotches of unnaturally pink skin and a few strands of white hair behind her ears. That settled it for me. I began to see them as victims of the warlocks that I was desperate to save. I bound them all up, thinking I would turn them over to the templars so they could attempt to purify them. I only wanted to help them, but they really let me have it for restraining them. My entire family was turning into demons before my very eyes, but when they cried out to me, they were a little too good at making me feel like the asshole.

...

They were all destroying me. It's not easy to admit this, but I began to cry. It was too much to watch four people who used to love you change so much. I wanted to know where these monsters were keeping my real wife and children, but I didn't have an actual plan to get them back. But it wasn't long before I paid for that moment of weakness. While I wasn't looking, Emily had somehow used her tail to wriggle free and release her mother and sisters. They got the drop on me and just stomped me halfway to hell. They did it while LAUGHING. I don't know who I hated more in that moment: them or myself. And I never really got around to figuring that out.

...

That was when the Purge happened. Six templars came in at that moment and started killing everybody in the house one by one. They got Penny with an arrow, one of them pulled Emily to him by her tail and pummeled her to death with an iron club, then they seared Sasha in some sort of holy light that caused her entire body to disintegrate. I was still laying face up on the ground when Sophia was stabbed in the back with a sword.  While she was falling, I remember thinking how I was satisfied with this outcome just before the same man stabbed me in the chest.

...

Don't be. I've made my peace with what happened. It was naive for me to think I could have put a stop to this all by myself. Do I agree with what the templars did to the village? Absolutely not. But when the spellwarriors we trust to deal with magic fall victims to the same curse as everyone else and the templars we trust to deliver us from evil decide we're beyond saving, who can argue with their logic?

...

The point is, I died with a smile on my face. Yes, I failed to protect my family, but by bringing the templars' attention to Shaville, I may have saved countless others. I had thoughts of dying a hero and getting to see my Sophia, Penelope, Sasha, and Emily in Fadal. As I remembered them.

...

Yes, it was a nice thought. But then I woke up.

Next Chapter

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist Part 4

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Kaleth and Aennin's visit to Eydisthorpe had been a brief and barely eventful one. While most of the villagers had kept to themselves, Aennin quickly found himself irritated by the constant stares of the ever-vigilant constabulary. The two of them couldn't find a moment alone the whole time they were there, so they were forced to focus on getting food and leaving quickly. The atmosphere in the town was tense, as if absolutely everyone was waiting for them to leave. This fueled a growing anxiety in Kaleth, which peaked when the two travelers were separated. He had found himself alone on an empty road with an angry-looking man shortly after and ensnared the man's ankles with rapidly growing roots in recoil. This incident hastened their departure; as soon as they reunited, they were back on the road. It was at this point that Aennin had become moody and silent, which Kaleth knew had to have been because he made the mistake of using his magic.

They would arrive in the Heronite capitol of Dalaska after two more days filled with intermittent bursts of slowed time. Kaleth had found this difficult to get used to since these episodes hardly seemed consistent. For seemingly random segments of the journey, everything around the cart and the maulans pulling it slowed to a crawl as they sped through the mountain road. There seemed to be little point in timing these bursts, but Kaleth guessed that they might have spent at least half of the trip traveling at what must have seemed like an impossible speed to observers. On the few occasions in which they ran into someone on the road, they were simple enough to bypass, but Kaleth had to wonder what it might feel like to be on the other side of this incredible magic.

Upon entering the city, Aennin insisted on find a place to stay put while they waited for the other Avatars. Kaleth had hoped that he would at least have someone to talk to then, but the words "stay put" only seemed to apply to him. His entire first day had been spent in solitude, sequestered in a small room at a modest inn. It was furnished only with a pair of beds that felt snug only around Kaleth's short body and a pair of footlockers. With nothing to keep him occupied and no one to talk to, the boy frequently fell into spells of listlessness in which he would do nothing but stare at the ceiling, thinking about nothing.

It was well into the night, as sleep tugged at him once more, when he next experienced anything to punctuate his boredom. The ceiling seemed to shake in rhythm with the ticking of a grandfather clock, which grew louder as he continued to listen. He continued to stare blankly upward in boredom when he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice whispering to him. "...look to your new beacon and state your wish."

Kaleth's eyes widened with shock and he sat bolt upright, searching for the source of the voice. Somehow, both the voice and the clockwork noise had vanished, leaving the boy in silence once more. But he would only have a few minutes to contemplate this oddity before Aennin finally returned with a pot of hearty stew and pairs of bowls and spoons. He sighed and set the pot on the chest at the end of the empty bed.

"Get it while it's hot. You'd think Heron of all places would have more food that's tolerable when it cools," Aennin grumbled as he ladled some of the stew into a bowl and sat down on the bed with it.

Kaleth scrambled out of his bed and poured himself a portion so quickly that a few drops of the liquid inside had splashed to the floor. Ignoring this, he asked, "Where have you been all day?"

"I've been casing the city all day. I found one of the other Avatars today," Aennin replied as he reached into his satchel for a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.

Kaleth raised his eyebrows while he watched Aennin break the bread in half. "Which one? And when do we meet up?"

Aennin rolled his eyes and replied between sips of his stew, "I'm talking about the one I don't get along with. She'll probably drop in to say hello while I'm out tomorrow, but we're keeping our distance until the others get here."

Kaleth sighed as he took some of the bread. "When do I get to leave this room? There's nothing to do in here!"

Aennin glared at the boy and growled, "I don't know. When you can be trusted to follow the simplest of suggestions. This is where we need to be! I'm not interested in having to flee town because you're so reflexive with your magic."

Kaleth frowned and tilted his eyes toward the ground. "I said I was sorry about that! I was scared."

Aennin rolled his eyes and took a bite of potato. Upon swallowing it, he replied, "Look, you're a hell of a lot more capable than I was at your age, but your training is going to get us in trouble here. I can bring you something to occupy yourself with, but you need to keep a low profile. Here."

Suddenly, Kaleth found himself oddly compelled to think of the sounds he heard before. Within seconds, he already knew what he wanted. "Can I just have a clock?"

Kaleth thought he saw a twinkle in the elf's eye as he responded. "Yeah. I can do that."

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