Metaworld Chronicles: Of Monsters and Magic
Date: 2024-10-29T18:00:00+00:00
Description: Everyone dreams of reliving one's life, starting over, but when Gwen Song awoke in her fifteen-year-old body, she found herself in a world of urban sorcery. Though her troubled child-hood remained, the familiar society she had once lived in had all but disappeared, replaced by a parallel reality. Back in her teenage body, she must navigate her new world, once again forging friendships, filial bonds, and gain mastery over the skills necessary to survive in a 21st century Earth ruled by Mages and Magic, where humanity lives in enclaves shielded from Magical Beasts, Demi-humans, and otherworldly

Of Monsters and Magic

David J. Wuto

Mango Media LLC

Copyright © David Jian Wu 2019 produced by Mango Media LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at admin@mangomediapublishing.com.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book cover by Sanwansen. Typesetting by Miblart.

Dedication

To Jenny

For reading my terrible first drafts

Blurb

Everyone dreams of reliving one's life, starting over, but when Gwen Song awoke in her fifteen-year-old body, she found herself in a world of urban sorcery.

Though her troubled child-hood remained, the familiar society she had once lived in had all but disappeared, replaced by a parallel reality.

Back in her teenage body, she must navigate her new world, once again forging friendships, filial bonds, and gain mastery over the skills necessary to survive in a 21st century Earth ruled by Mages and Magic, where humanity lives in enclaves shielded from Magical Beasts, Demi-humans, and otherworldly beings in a meta-world made unreal by a sorcerous apartheid.

Contents

1. Some Things Begin, Something Ends

2. Awakening

3. Pass Conceded

4. Familia

5. The Longest Day

6. It Takes Three to Tango

7. A Step in the Right Direction

8. No News Like Bad News

9. A Team

10. A Moment of Truth

11. Dark Ritual

12. Instructions and Instructors

13. The Calm

14. A Sound of Thunder

15. Oedipus Wrecks

16. The House of Huang

17. A New Leaf

18. First Blood

19. The Looming Cloud

20. What Great Beast

21. The Woods have Wolves

22. Riding Hood

23. Life

24. The Snake, the Lady and the Maiden Fair

25. Candles

26. Follow the Red Rabbit

27. First Impressions

28. Secrets and Confessions

29. Full Fathom Five

30. A Long Way Down

31. Sweethearts and Sweet Meats

32. Two Hounds on a Hearth

33. Some Things Never Change

34. Coming Home

35. An Old Man’s Favours

36. Apples from the Tree

37. The Grind

38. Here be Monsters

39. Of Monsters and Gwen

40. A False Start

41. The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep

42. Miles to go Before She Sleeps

43. Sleeping Beauty

44. The Hungering Dark

45. Crossroads

46. Scar Tissue

47. Skeletons

48. A Slice of Paradise

49. He Who Hunts Monsters

50. Cruel to be Kind

51. Fortune's Fool

Thank You

Glossary

Elements & Elemental Magic

Chapter one

Some Things Begin, Something Ends

Gwen Song awoke to the melody of Grande Valse blaring with the strength of an air siren.

Reflexively, she groped for her smartphone, making the familiar sliding gesture to unlock. Instead, her vague fingers encountered the strange sensation of physical buttons. A moment of frantic fumbling ensured, then a sound began to stream:

“ABC News, September 21st, 2001: An ancient Red Dragon has destroyed a section of the London Metro, resulting in over two hundred dead and thousands injured, paralysing the city. Authorities have linked this latest incident to similar occurrences involving Magical Creatures carried out by the anti-tower cabal known as Spectre… Magister Livingstone, Mayor of London, calls the latest terrorist attack a day of infamy…”

More terrorism, Gwen groaned wistfully. Finally she found the mute button.

Slowly, synapses dulled by Moet & Chandon ignited one by one.

Red Dragon?

What’s that, a new euphemism for WMDs?

Wait— Her mind performed a double-take.

The date was correct. It was September twenty-first — but the year appeared to be missing a decade and a half. It had been 2017 when she stumbled into bed, but the ABC had said 2001.

Regaining a measure of lucidity, she inspected the brick in her hand to confirm the date, only to be bemused by an alien device constructed of ceramic-seeming material, with a screen that looked nothing like back-lit LED.

The only clue that it may be a Nokia was the bloody ringtone.

She turned the device over.

No logo. No ports. No battery sliders.

This isn’t her iPhone.

Her brain throbbed.

Could she have been roofied? In her office, at her very own corporate party? That would be absurd. Even if she had, there were security guards and staff who were sober enough to send her to a hospital. Concurrently, her joints were on fire. She was dizzy and light-headed, hungry and hollowed out. Additionally, the sickening sting of digestive acids lapped at her throat.

For now, she chose calm over panic.

She inspected her surroundings.

Firstly, she was sleeping in a single bed.

Secondly, she wasn't naked or anything. She wore her PJs, although, for some reason, her silk nightie had transformed into coarse cotton. A sloppy, cheap-looking duvet covered her body. The print was vaguely familiar—a horrid, half-faded floral design commonly used for IKEA curtains.

The bedroom felt claustrophobic; the ceiling low and oppressive.

Recognition dawned.

Isn't this her old apartment? From when she was a kid? Why was she in the bedroom of her adolescence? What had happened to her bayside home? Her French-windows?

The bedroom to which she now occupied had existed only in the distant past.

She had been in high school, living with her divorced father.

“A lucid dream?" she muttered to herself.

Her voice!

It was youthful and sweet and without the abuse of all-nighters, scalding coffee, and copious amounts of alcohol.

She closed her eyes to think, but the memory of her last conscious hours was a scrambled mess of whites and yellows.

Slowly, in fragments, recollections came.

Here was her old home. Her original home. The apartment she’d grown up in as a girl-child. Over yonder was the fold-out desk she had piled her clean laundry on. Next to the cabinet was the basket for her dirty laundry. To her right was her study desk, which her father sometimes used as a Mahjong table. She could even see her study guides.

But where she expected volumes on chemistry, physics and literature, she instead saw thick bound volumes with strange names.

Allenberg’s Primer for Astral Theory? Otsu's Primer for Evokers?

Without warning, her head split.

"Ow!"

A jackhammer ripped through the interior of her skull. Memories flooded her brain, bloating its synapses so that she felt as though two fingers were pressed against her optic nerves. If anything, the sensation was akin to the time she had forgotten to take her quinine tablets in the Amazon and had malaria shitting on her brain for a week.

I have an aptitude test today.

A stray thought boomed across Gwen's consciousness.

No, you don't, Gwen dissuaded the voice in her head. You just had a staff party where you celebrated your consultancy's second anniversary. You drank and danced and forgot all about what champagne could do to a woman who was no longer in her twenties.

Unbidden, another thought solicited her stream of consciousness, accompanied by gut-wrenching anxiety. Her chest convulsed. She couldn't breathe.

Today is an important day.

I need to go to the Awakening Test.

Mother will be upset if I fail.

"Ugh!"

Gwen fought back the reflux threatening to escape her oesophagus. Jesus Christ, she cursed. Was she now suffering from paranoid schizophrenia? Dr Monroe never said anything about MPD disorders!

"Shut up!" she threatened the ceiling.

The voice ceased.

She ran a hand over her forehead and found it drenched with perspiration.

"Alright," she whispered to herself. Her mind remained sceptical even as her senses seemed helplessly invested in this new reality. Cynically, she pinched herself hard on the thighs until a welt appeared and her eyes moistened.

"Shit," Gwen affirmed her worst fears. “Why is this happening?"

Frustrated, she rubbed her eyes. Her fingertips came away with crusty chunks of dried mucus, which she crushed between her fingers. Shit, had she been crying?

Click.

Her internal discourse was interrupted by an intruder. Instantly, her blood ran cold. She was trapped in a strange parallel world, who or what could be coming through that door?

The door opened.

It was her brother, Percy, who peeped in with a face still drugged with sleep.

“Dad called and said you have to get up now,” he informed her. “It's your PMAE today.”

She quietly regarded the boy, mindful of any buttons or cross-stitching that would reveal a skin-suit.

Percy was her brother, an athletically-inclined adolescent with olive skin and large luminous eyes. He had the thick lips of their mother, taking after the family's mixed heritage.

She pulled the cover over her collarbones and scowled at her brother. What kind of an idiot barges into the room of their teenage sister? She was hardly dressed for decency.

"Oi! Get out of here!" she yelled angry nothings even as Percy yawned disinterestedly.

With her brother gone, she pulled herself out of bed. A full-length mirror ran the length of her built-in-wardrobe. Now that she was up, she had to ensure that all the pieces of her body were present.

What she saw was the reflection of a dark-haired girl who was a little underfed but reasonably proportioned. She had the pale skin and high cheekbones of her mixed father but had inherited her mother's eyes. Her striking irises, afflicted with central heterochromia, possessed an amber core bound by a ring of dark emerald, hinting at her cosmopolitan origins.

Gwen pulled on her earlobes, watching her simulacrum wince.

No luck.

It wasn't a lucid dream.

She was indeed back in her teenagehood.

After a moment of deliberation, she removed her pyjamas for a more thorough inspection.

When she had struck the big three-o, she had wondered about her adolescent body. Would she have loved or loathed it? Though her answer was ambivalent, what she found queer was her paleness. Her skin was unusually pallid, almost as if she'd rarely seen the sun. By her recollection, she had spent the whole summer of 2001 hawking ice cream at Bondi and learning to surf. As a result, she had been positively caramel. Compared to her old Billabong body, her present physique smacked of anorexia.

Still, at a meter-eighty, she cast an impressive figure for a fifteen-year-old.

As young as twelve, people had assumed she was older. She had been denied children’s fares at carnivals and accosted by boys who thought her their age. Once, a bloke at Bondi had propositioned her, offering to teach her about her maturing anatomy.

Gwen dug through the wardrobe and found something to wear, straight away arriving at a pair of cut-off jeans and a white tapered tee.

The door opened again. It was Percy.

“Why are you in your Sunday clothes?” he questioned in his youthful voice. “You need to be in your uniform for the Awakening.”

At the mention of the word, another wave of nausea bowled her over.

"Get out!" she hissed. Percy fled.

She held herself against the mirror until the buzzing went away.

A little immodestly, she performed a self-examination, concluding that it wasn't that time of the month.

"Fine, I'll go to the damned test." She told her reflection. "Happy now?"

She searched through her wardrobe again and located her school blouse and skirt. She remembered being horrid at chores, so it must have been her brother who had collected and packed the laundry.

Making a note to thank young Percy, she Googled her fragmented memory and found the school blazer hanging in a separate section of the closet.

She inspected the result.

The Blackwattle High School senior uniform was a little loose around the bust but appeared otherwise handsome and prim. A grey-white tartan skirt, a navy blazer, and a white blouse gave the costume the feeling of a private academy. There was a vest as well, but Gwen had forgone it for reasons of budget.

D-Ding!

An alarm went off on her phone.

“You’re going to be late for the train!” her brother called out.

Gwen opened the door to see Percy with a piece of toast packed in foil, the acrid smell of Vegemite and cheese polluting the air.

“Thank me later.” He grinned, revealing pearly white teeth.

“Cheers,” she replied, her teenage voice sounding strange as it reverberated through her skull. She needed more time to collect herself, but the urgency of having to attend the Aptitude Test hastily drove her through the door.

Following an internal compass, she managed to board a train for the city.

The streets of Sydney's CBD were the same old familiar concrete and bitumen, but the transportation had shifted from the grumble of fossil fuel into the thrum of humming mana cores. For the moment, Gwen was glad that no airships sailed across the horizon, completing the vision of a dystopian Weimar Metropolis.

The journey towards Blackwattle Bay proved enlightening. In her brave new world, trains ran on ley-lines, fed into a network of mana conduits known simply as the Grid. All around her, geo-dynamic mana powered the city's infrastructure, the most important of which were the Shield Barriers.

A shield what? She pinched her brows.

Shuddering memories informed her that humanity was hardly safe in this world, that despite the rule of Mageocracy over the Earth, much of it remained under the control of Demi-humans and Magical Creatures. Hell, there wasn’t even an aviation industry thanks to the presence of predatory monsters ruling the skies. The average man could only survive in secured enclaves, sheltered against the unknowable world beyond the Shield Barriers.

Despite wearing her blazer, Gwen shivered uncontrollably. Apathetic to her distress, the silent carriage dumbly made its way on enchanted rails into the heart of the city.

She disembarked at Pyrmont, finding herself among like-patterned uniforms walking to school.

The day was Saturday, the day of the Aptitude Test, A.K.A. “The Awakening”.

“Awakening” to what though?

Magic.

M-Magic?! Mages? Spells?! Gwen shook her head, attempting to make sense of her new lexicon. Where the hell had she ended up? Was this budget Hogwarts? You’re a Witch, Gwen?

With great agitation, she trawled her mind again, fishing the flotsam and jetsam of her fragmented memory.

One by one, details emerged.

Where her old world had had the SAT and the HSC, this world had the dreaded Projected Magical Aptitude Exam, or PMAE for short, undertaken to segregate Mages from the multitudes.

As it stood, the vast majority of humanity were non-magical citizens, lovingly denominated as "NoMs". In a world of Spellcraft, NoMs lived in the Mages’ shadow, living diligent lives as administrators, service personnel, labourers for manufactorums and bodies for the frontlines.

For the mundane citizen, ascension was improbable. For those with a magical lineage, one could additionally become a Magus or Magister, whose rare convergence of sorcerous, physical and intellectual potential ensured a charmed life.

I can't fail the test!

Okay! Fine! Gwen assured her spirit of PMAE past.

She ruminated on her new knowledge.

So… apartheid. Gwen bit her lower lip as the unpleasant epiphany traversed her mind. Moreover, her imminent ordeal seemed especially dubious. Was her memory informing her that a single test determined if she would be a worker ant or an august queen?

That seemed ridiculous to Gwen, whose old world at least entertained the illusion of egalitarian meritocracy. The PMAE appeared solely based upon manifest destiny.

Even assuming she passed, what of the life she had been living one inebriation prior? She had worked tirelessly to built a company of her own, collecting devoted staff over a decade. They’d just had their second anniversary, and she'd only recently acquired the Lendlease account.

Fuming, Gwen trudged with resentment towards her destination. In the distance, the Blackwattle campus appeared more extraordinary than her memory served. An entire wing of buildings appeared appended to the existing sandstone facade that loomed over the bay. Concurrently, the Fish Market next door bustled with semi-magical bounty, disseminating an ignoble stench of discarded seafood.

“Gwen!”

A chirpy voice rang out from the multitude of bobbing heads walking the steep incline up toward the school's gymnasium.

She turned to see a spry Asian girl rushing towards her, two imposing masses rioting as she ran, her face plump with adorable baby fat.

“Gwen-Gwen!” The girl embraced her before landing a quick peck on her cheek. “Ooo! I missed you so much! I am beyond happy that we're seniors together!"

She recognised the overfamiliar girl as Yue, a Shanghainese girl whose family had immigrated from the southern capital. Yue’s china-doll face was milk white and porcelain, punctuated by the small pink of her mouth. Her eyes, two luminous crescents beset by prominent lashes, seemed to swallow Gwen with their softness.

The sight of a friend she had not seen for a decade took the words right out of her mouth.

Yue Bai had been her closest and dearest friend back in high school, though they had drifted apart when Gwen escaped her home.

“It's only been a month.” She smiled back, hiding the fact that the original Gwen wasn't in the driving seat.

Though faint and spectral, she could sense her alter ego hovering around somewhere in the dark recess of her brain like the Ghost of Banquo, only she hadn’t done anything to warrant its unpleasant haunting.

Beside her, Yue began an endless stream of small talk.

Gwen listened as her old friend chittered excitedly about the latest gossip—who had been tested for what; who had been picked for which scholarship; what was the best element was to pair with which School of Magic.

When the duo finally made their way into the hall, the rest of the student body was already waiting in the auditorium.

The headmaster and the instructors were in militant dress uniforms that reminded Gwen of decorated veterans on ANZAC Day. She scanned the hall for more familiar faces but was quickly shuffled into place by a prefect.

Upon the podium, the principal addressed the assembly.

“Students, staff, members of the chancellory, welcome to the 2001 PMAE. This exam is carried out statewide on Spellcraft course Year ten students. In a moment, you will be asked to approach the dais and place your hand on the Awakening Crystal…”

A murmur spread across the auditorium as the officious announcement reverberated through the air. The principal, a raven-haired man of advanced age, spoke sonorously over the assemblage.

She recognised the man as Magus Jules Bartlett, principal of Blackwattle. Under the man's watchful eye, generations of Acolytes came and went, all remembering the ever-present personage that was Principal Bartlett at the gates, 0700 sharp, dutifully greeting each student. Amiable and approachable, the principal was a man fond of oration.

“Students! Young Mages! The Path of Spellcraft is glorious but fraught with danger and risk! Upon the Path, many trials shall beset you—forbidden knowledge, creatures horrid and savage, Demi-humans cruel and heartless!"

The quiet students broke into a murmur.

“For now, your lives are peaceful - but make no mistake, let not your daily comfort confuse you. We are beset on all sides by forces far greater than humanity itself. Compared to the creatures of the Wildlands, we are weak. Compared to the creatures of the Deep, we are few. Compared to the beings of the Elemental Planes, we are mortal!"

"Yet WHY is it that man persists upon the Material Plane? Why has man survived the aeons to establish our civilisation on Earth against all the odds? It is because, through the application of Spellcraft, we are strong! We, the human race, are united in our mastery of sorcery!"

Abruptly, the principal’s voice took on a new intensity and volume.

"The PMAE is only the first step, but it is a significant one. It will define who you are and what you aspire to be. Do not fret; there is a place in our world for everyone. No matter your talent, you will be appreciated! The survival of one contributes to the survival of all!"

Thunderous applause filled the auditorium as future Mages roared their collective approval. Though confused, Gwen clapped alongside, not wanting to appear the stranger.

"All of you already possess magical affinity; your studies in junior high have proven that you are worthy to be Mages,” the principal announced confidently, “Some of you, perhaps, may even become Magus! But know that be you Citizen, Mage, Magus, or Magister: only united, can human civilisation push back the tide of the Wildlands seeking to subsume us."

Compared to the earlier clamour, the applause grew demure. Gwen wondered if each student was thinking of their chances at the hands of Fortuna, pondering whether they would awaken to glory or slumber in anonymity.

To her understanding, the principal had told a compelling truth. Who would not wish to possess the power of destruction and creation? Who would not desire to wield the raw elements of nature, to freeze one's foes with shards of eldritch ice, to blast apart the monsters that threatened one's home?

But it wasn't the old Gwen who now had to face the music. It was her, and Gwen realised she had no idea what was going on. The only sensation she truly felt was numbness—numb for the world she found herself in, stunned by the chaotic emotions smothering her over and over.

Survival of humankind?

Magic to rule the world?

She was in her PJs an hour ago!

Chapter two

Awakening

The whole thing feels like a cult. Gwen cynically assessed the congregation of students and staff. All around her, the cohort separated into rows standing before ten crystal spheres. The “Awakening Crystals” reminded her of Scientology E-meters she’d seen once on Castlereagh Street.

Skepticism aside, she and her fellow students were now being tested for their magical aptitude. The procedure was simple enough. The students stood in front of the stone and placed their hand atop the crystal. The crystal then expanded its magical energies after completing the circuit, sending mana back into the recipient. Whatever Sigil the indicator reciprocated then betokened the student's proficiency in a School of Magic.

At least that's what her alter-self recalled.

According to her memories, a trifactor of conditions impacted a Mage's talents—their natural affinity for a particular School of Magic; the Element they attuned to; plus their natural-born intelligence for manipulating Spellcraft.

Either of the three could be developed later in life, but, as humans had limited lifespans, constrained resources and dubious willpower, those born with a head-start rose to the top of Spellcraft society with accelerated ease.

As far as she knew, there were seven primary styles of Spellcraft—Evocation, Transmutation, Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, and Illusion. Each had their specialities, and each manifested a particular arcane phenomenon unique enough to be called a ‘School’. Other schools existed but were isolated to particular bloodlines, cultures, and religious mythos.

“Oh my God, Gwennie, I am nervous as hell.” Yue clutched onto Gwen’s arm with a force rivalling that of the proverbial koala, known for having a grip strength many times its body mass.

“What do you want to awaken as?” Gwen shook herself from the dizzying remembrance. Spellcraft, Schools of Magic, monsters, none of it made any sense to her.

“Evocation of course,” Yue squealed. “The cardinal rule of all magic is firepower, followed by firepower, and finally, some more firepower!”

“That would be pretty nice,” Gwen answered blankly. “Firepower for sure.”

“When we go out there during the field trip, we can blast away everything with impunity!” Yue’s expression was dreamy and hopeful, her face flushed with enthusiasm.

“Field trip?”

“You know, going outside the Shield Barrier, kicking ass…”

“And?”

“And kill shit!” Yue gave an evil looking grin, probably dreaming of carcasses flinging through the air after a particularly robust pyrotechnical display.

“Muscle-headed idiots,” a voice interjected beside them.

The speaker was a bronzed-skinned teen wearing a uniform one size too small. Her tartan skirt exposed her upper thighs, and they could see her bra strap against the taut fabric of her white blouse. Her hair was dyed with a pink tip, though her natural colour would have been an alluring auburn brunette.

“What are you looking at?” the girl snapped.

Gwen felt struck by a sense of déjà vu, finding the catty demeanour endearing. She wracked her brain until star-crossed memories of two lifetimes converged, revealing that the hot topic with the resting bitch face was Debora.

Holy cows, Gwen mouthed silently. Debora Jones! Good grief, that takes me back! As far as she could recollect, Debora was the faction leader of what had been dubbed the bimbos by the egg heads, and hotties by boys in general. She had been friends with Gwen in her junior years, but they had drifted apart once puberty had kicked in. In her old life, Debora had been obsessed with Gwen because they were both early bloomers. When Gwen’s parents had divorced, Debora had ceased to be a priority.

"Debbie—" Gwen began, but Yue was way ahead of her.

“I bet you’ll awaken in the School of the bimbo,” Yue remarked rudely.

Gwen stared at Yue with genuine shock. Only now was she recalling that Yue was a mad dog when it came to cat fights. For a petite Asian girl, Yue possessed a grit rivalling sandpaper.

“My uncle and my father are both Transmuter Mages,” Debora retorted effortlessly. “What about yours? Conjuration specialising in boats? People like you should go back to where you come from.”

“This stupid Gweilo,” Yue let loose a string of unwelcome syllables that were half Chinese, “I'll awaken as a fire Mage and burn your whore house down.”

She could probably do it. Gwen perspired nervously.

“Come on, people, make or break moment here.” A prefect stepped in between them. “You’re all nervous, I get it, but don't forget your humility and manners as seniors of Blackwattle.”

Good luck with that, Gwen mused at the prefect's words. Blackwattle was a government-run school. There were no distinguishing hallmarks other than a campus that overlooked the harbour of Sydney's industrial zone. Most of the time, the campus smelled faintly of fish.

"Go fuck yourself.” Yue had to have the last word. Gwen’s eyes met the Prefect's, who sighed.

By now, dozens of students had approached the dais, legs quivering and fingers shaking, placing their hands on the crystal, whereupon flashes of indistinct colour indicated Schools of Magic and elemental affinities, after which a brief vis-a-vis with the Instructors too place.

Debora’s name came, and she stepped towards the crystal. Gwen could see that despite all her bluster, her well-exposed stalks still shook from anxious anticipation.

The surfer girl placed her hands on the crystal and waited. From Gwen's ignorant perspective, a glow entered into Debora's hand and permeated into her body. Then it recycled through the crystal, causing the stone to illuminate. After a few moments, the glass atop the device glowed with a Glyph indicating the School of Transmutation, its soft brown halo indicating an Earthen affinity.

Debora sighed with relief, her expression equal parts relief and disappointment. Most Mages wanted to be an Evoker, to be a bright star upon the battlefield, a blazing tempest of power and fury.

“Your turn, shorty." Debora looked over at Yue before walking from the platform.

“What an annoying bimbo,” Yue blustered, looking flustered herself.

“Good luck.” Gwen’s own heart pounded against her ribcage, quickening her breath and flushing her cheeks bright pink. From what she could gather so far, this Awakening ordeal was an extraordinary moment of exceeding importance.

A few more students came and went.

When it was Yue’s turn, she made her way to the top of the platform and placed her hand on the assigned crystal. The same glow enveloped her small frame; Yue squirmed as the mana completed its circuit. When the radiance returned, it became a blazing glow of ochre, so bright as to illuminate half the auditorium.

A collective gasp emitted from the assembly.

“Evocation with a high tier Fire talent!” an Instructor called out incredulously. “It's tier IV affinity at least!”

The news was both welcome and remarkable for the pedestrian populous of Blackwattle. Generally speaking, only bloodlines that engendered generations of Mages who practised the same talents were prone to producing high-affinity talents. Those with affinities often inter-married, generating greater chances of begetting offspring with ever more prominent sympathies for a school or element.

As far as anyone knew, Yue was a regular migrant fleeing the Magical Beasts. For Gwen, the shock was doubly so, as she knew Yue's mother was a NoM. Her friend's common heritage was precisely why she was causing such a stir—could Yue's Awakening mean the rise of a future House?

Observing Yue's serendipitous stardom seemed to trigger another bout of anxiety within Gwen. She was glad that all she’d had for breakfast was a single piece of toast.

The room erupted into applause. Yue gave a smug look toward the red-faced Debora, who quickly left to speak to her coordinator.

Yue’s fire affinity inferred that with sufficient training, her fire spells would be less costly and more powerful. Though not precisely stellar at lower tiers, should Yue make it to the rank of Magus or Magister, her spells would be stronger, more efficient, and manifest faster than her peers. As for her immediate future, her greatest advantage lay in the fact that Evocation Mages could hunt monsters from the get-go. For Yue, her future was flaming bright.

“Congratulations, Yue!” Gwen was happy for her friend but found herself thrust aside by the crowd of students and instructors who surrounded the newly crowned Queen of Flames.

“Next!”

“Evoker, tier I Water.”

“Oh, God! Please give me another go! I don’t want to be a fireman.”

“Remove him!”

“Next!”

“Abjuration, tier I Earth!”

“Next!”

“No reaction! I am sorry.”

"NOOOOO!"

“Next!”

“Transmutation, tier II Air! An Air Mage!”

“Congrats mate!”

"Cheers!"

“Evocation!”

“Divination!”

“Evocation!”

“Conjurations! Tier I water!”

“Hell yeah!”

The crowd murmured and congratulated the newly-minted Conjurer. Conjuration Mages were extremely powerful once they found their Familiars. In a place with as much water as coastal Sydney, a Water Conjurer could go far.

Gwen endured another bout of jittering butterflies. According to her alter-ego, one's primary School of Magic determined the most synergetic school that would be available to a caster. To train one’s second school required painstaking repetition. Usually, only those with enough talent, experience, and luck to survive mortal combat ever attained the rare opportunity to master a school beyond the first.

Most Mages remained between tiers I to V in a single School, happy with the gainful employment offered by the state's many institutions. The risking of life and limb, after all, wasn't for everyone. The world outside the city might have monsters and treasures in equal measure, but behind man's Barrier Shields, they could live in relative peace.

“Gwen Song,” came Gwen’s death knell.

She made her way to the platform and placed her hand on the crystal.

“Relax,” advised the Instructor.

You relax, Gwen mumbled, I don't even know what the hell I am doing.

Gwen's hand touched the cold stone. In an instant, she felt herself on the verge of collapse. Her clammy perspiration glued her blouse to her pallid skin. She had no idea what was going to happen, and her heart felt as though it was trying to shut itself down.

Get a grip! Gwen willed herself, but her nervous system rejected her command; whatever synapses that controlled her body were firing on their own.

“Don't be so nervous. Place your hand firmly on the crystal,” the instructor commanded.

With vague and trembling fingers, she gripped the crystal.

The mana jolted her hand like a static shock. It travelled red-hot up her arm and into her body, invading her spine and filling her veins with molten lead. Her world seemed to expand, her consciousness enveloping the room and extending beyond her physical self. She saw within her mind's eye arcane Sigils that represented the different schools, each cognitive illusions created by her Spellcraft-indoctrinated mind, fabricated by ingrained knowledge to make sense of the senseless, to visualise the incomprehensible.

The mana coiled and flowed, tethering her Astral Form to her physical body.

Evocation! Evocation! Evocation! Come on! Gwen's dearest wish was to stick close to Yue until she could figure this world out for herself.

Then a bright Sigil bloomed in her mind; a golden glow.

But Gwen had no idea what the vision meant.

Then another Sigil flared; a bright and piercing beacon of light.

What the hell does that even mean? Gwen hissed with frustration. Do I touch it? Or talk to it? Is there a voice asking me if I want power? Oi! Sigil— Gryffindor, not Slytherin!

Then another shade, blue this time, and yet another, a bright orange, a deep mauve, a pale lilac.

The Sigils were beyond comprehension now. They seemed to amalgamate into a quickened form of crystalline brightness, brighter than anything Gwen had seen.

The colours blurred and became a nimbus; a twin world of light and darkness. Then as quickly as it had begun, light and darkness split. There were now two nebulous figures standing side by side.

What the hell is happening? Gwen tried to orientate herself within the light fantastic. What the hell did I Awaken? Some strange new school? I better not have awoken something weird! An abduction by a government agency after less than twenty-four hours in this world would be the worst.

Gwen opened her eyes and looked for her instructor. Maybe he could provide some guidance as to what her affinities are.

“Oh my God!”

“Eek!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Why, God? Why not me?”

The room became wild with excitement.

Though it wasn't for Gwen.

Gwen’s instructor regarded her colourless crystal.

“Er…”

“We have a Biomancer!” someone positively shrieked. “Elvia can tap into the Plane of Positive Energy!”

A green glow was fading from the other side of the auditorium, the student body crowding around a small girl even shorter than Yue. From her timid posture and gentle face, Gwen recognised the girl as Elvia Lindholm.

The bookish blonde girl had been the invisible sort, though now her presence captivated the auditorium.

A Biomancer.

Clerics were a rare bird in any neck of the woods as it required simultaneous affinities for both Evocation and Conjuration Schools. The essential caveat, though, was possessing the Positive Elemental trait. Elvia, made special by a twist of fate, had become a cherished class of individuals existing beyond social strata, for the Frontier was always short on healers.

“Oh, happy day!” the Principal harkened loudly. "Congratulations, Miss Lindholm!"

There had not been a natural healer in the school for almost a decade. Having a healer like Elvia meant Blackwattle would receive a funding boost. The administration would have to hire a specialist to teach her, and the Education Department would be obliged to provide the very best. A school with two healers—a master and student duo! They would be the envy of almost every other school in the district. Usually, only the Selective class of schools had trained arcane healers. The regular school nurse was just a quasi-Cleric trained in applying remedy gels and administering potion-injectors.

Back in the quieter quarter of the auditorium, Gwen's instructor faced her with an awkward, apologetic expression.

“I am sorry, Gwen.”

Her crystal possessed a transparent glow that was more daylight than any distinct colour.

“You have very low affinity,” the man noted. "Furthermore, I don't see a Sigil or an element.”

What? What do you mean you don't see a Sigil? I saw them! I saw all of them! Those squiggly worm-like arcane marks, right? The things that looked like hieroglyphics married into the Hebrew alphabet.

“It's strange but not unheard of,” the instructor continued. "We're all made differently."

The instructor’s unwelcome decree was a death sentence.

Gwen felt a cold shiver of dreadful premonition hang over the nape of her neck like a raised guillotine.

“Well, the transparent nimbus shows that you can tap into the Astral Plane and channel mana,” the Instructor stated with a tone of surety. "But you don't have any affinity, it seems. I am afraid you have what we call a null-base."

Not synergistic? Gwen searched through the brief impulse of her memory.

In a moment the anxiety attack that had been kept at bay by her curiosity returned with a crippling force, striking her as though a concussive blow had been dealt. Gwen had to hold onto the pedestal to keep herself steady.

Synergy was a matter that related to how fast a Mage was able to progress in their schools. It also determined the variability of hybrid magic that Mages mastered as they choose their second, and eventually third schools. A poor synergy meant poor mana conversion efficiency. No matter how hard Gwen trained, she would be far behind those with innate talent.

"Careful now." The instructor arrested Gwen's shoulder.

A flood of new memories assaulted her conscious. Her family was still reeling from a messy separation; her father was a useless waste of space. Her mother had fully expected Gwen to awaken in something rare and precious.

So she’s not special? She’s not the Girl who Lived?

Gwen beheld her instructor, dumbfounded.

“I am sorry, Gwen,” the man repeated with a sympathetic face. "But it looks like you’re just a common Mage.”

Chapter three

Pass Conceded

“So what do I do?” Gwen's trembling lips begged for an answer.

By now, her eyes were moist with the distress of her devastating evaluation. The pitiful look she projected touched even her instructor.

But the crystal told no lies. Whatever it had presented at its conclusion was whatever the poor sorceress drew for her lot in life.

“You should be able to cast basic spells without issues,” the instructor attempted to soothe her confusion with a delicate tone. "Having no affinity also means you have no real drawbacks for accessing different schools, so you could work on being a utility Mage, maybe a machine operator?"

The man’s words did little to help Gwen’s pale desolation.

“Look.” He glanced over at Yue and Elvia, still being congratulated by her fellow students. “You’re close friends with the Fire girl, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Gwen replied, still stunned by her commonness.

What was the point of being taken from her perfectly fine life only to be thrust into a mediocre role in the midst of a eugenic apartheid? She couldn't help but be reminded of an old Bard's musing— that as flies to wanton boys are mortals to the gods, they pull our wings for sport. Was it mere chance that she was plucked from the apex of her life in Sydney and deposited into this depressing gorge of despair? If there was 'sport' in it, it was certainly at her expense.

“I'll put you down as Evocation since you will have access to it. It's also the cheapest and most time-efficient to train, but from here on out it's going to be just you. The school will provide what we can, of course, but…”

The look on the instructor’s told her more than she needed to know. It was no concern for the school to include her as a low-tier student. All low-tier students received the same resources until they could somehow distinguish themselves. She would be one more in a sea of nameless faces that dotted the place like the decor.

“Thank you, sir,” Gwen answered finally, unsure if her instructor had helped her or prolonged her suffering.

The instructor nodded and jotted down in his scribe pad her new classification.

Gwen Song—Tier I Evoker.

“Good luck.”

The rest of the grade soon passed their examinations.

The junior Mages were assigned to their respective Schools of Magic.

Gwen was in Class Two.

As promised, she was in Yue's class. To their surprise, the new darling of the grade, Elvia Lindholm, was also included in class Two.

Thankfully, Debora was in Class Three.

Looking around, Gwen saw vaguely familiar faces who ignored her. The snub was unpleasant. Her unique family drama over the last two years meant that she seldom had time for friends. For now, however, she had bigger problems, like the fact that she was a wayward soul stolen from across space and time then untimely deposited in a delicate body.

She was one amongst thirty students who were Evokers. It was, after all, the staple of Mages everywhere. Beside the group were the rarer Mages, an assortment of Abjurers, a few Transmuters, two low-affinity Diviners, one low-affinity Enchanter, and so on.

The specialists who emerged were Yue, tier IV Fire Evoker, Jasmine, tier II Ice Evoker, Owen, tier II Earthen Enchanter, Juergen, tier II Water Illusionist, Patrick, tier I Water Conjurer.

And of course, the creme de crop, Elvia the Tier II Biomancer.

The whole thing seemed absurd to Gwen, whose old world was driven by the basic tenet that everyone got a fair shake of the sauce bottle.

It was all well and good if one won the genetic lottery, but what about the NoMs? What about people like her whose talent sucked? Were they doomed to be forever denied a spot in the sun?

She wanted to say something snide, to express the displeasure and frustration that was ripping her chest apart but she became struck by yet another epiphanic revelation.

Humanity wasn't alone in this world.

This world never had significant wars fought between humans. The Great War had been against an undead incursion that saw the loss of almost twenty percent of Humanity's land mass to Necromantic Magical Beings. Conversely, the Second World War began from the sixties and stretched well into the seventies, triggered by the awakening of an ancient dragon. By its conclusion, Humanity lost another swath of cities and fortresses, effectively cutting them off from the Pacific Ocean and isolating man into tiered city-states.

In the three decades since, a few fallen cities had been reclaimed and stabilised with barriers, but Man had never escaped the existential crisis of being wiped out by an attack from the great unknown.

In fact, her current residence, the Frontier City of Sydney, was one such reclaimed port of call.

Originally lost in 1940 to the Coral Sea War, the coastal areas of Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne had been returned to human dominion by the might of the Commonwealth Mageocracy, led by an English-Chinese-American expedition. The city became thus repopulated by refugees and volunteer forces from the Commonwealth and the diasporic Micronesian nations.

As with all Frontiers, supplies were constrained. Maintaining the Shield Barriers served as the primary preoccupation of any city. What meagre resources remained had been channelled into the city's systems to be redistributed.

When Gwen had undergone her junior examination, she had shown no particular aptitude for Magic and had to attend a regular school that taught basic level theory and prep. That had proved a moment of significant disappointment for her mother, who'd expected her to be a prodigy.

Her brother Percy, conversely, had the making of something special, registering a mana signature as young as ten. He was currently enrolled at the Sydney College of Magic for Boys, a 'Selective' government institution.

All in all, what it meant was that she would be starved of resources, which made escaping mediocrity more difficult.

In the old world, Gwen had been no stellar student either, but that had never stopped her believing that she would do well in life. There was always merit in networking, taking risks, and catching the right business opportunities.

In this world, however, Gwen felt her insides atrophy.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Virtually everything in this world relied on some knowledge or affinity for magic. Even the wealthiest of the NoMs served a particular House, Clan or Faction. Self-sufficiency for one without immense talent was nigh impossible.

“Gwen!” A familiar voice shook her from her nightmarish introspection.

It was Yue.

“We’re both Evokers!” The jubilant Asian girl hugged Gwen’s arm gleefully, sinking Gwen's bony elbow between pillowy mounds. With a tier IV affinity, her friend's future was as bright as a fireball.

Was it possible to eke out a living sans Spellcraft?

Like a clickbait title, the answer was 'no'.

If she gave up magic, she would be a woman of no importance, a worker ant in a hive of indifferent activity. Without background and lineage, her only worth was as a pretty face. When the creatures came, she would cower in the bunker with the other civilians, awaiting Schrödinger’s death or salvation.

What kind of stupid life would that be? Who aspired to become cannon fodder, behaving as the wind behaves?

Feeling Yue press against her icy body, Gwen stifled a sigh. She hugged her friend, stealing some of Yue's warmth.

It was stupid to give up so soon, Gwen informed herself. Hadn't the years already taught her that? She wasn't a girl-child out of home for the first time. If she could strike out alone at sixteen and make it then, she could surely do it again. Isn't that what Ol' Blue Eyes said? If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere?

So what if life gave her lemons?

No one was born an Archmage. The Path, as they said, was three-quarters risk and one-quarter talent. Even if she perished, she may very well wake up in her bayside bed!

A plan began to form in her mind.

“I agree, Yue, it's going to be great,” Gwen announced to her friend, who was already daydreaming about the academic term to come.

“Yeah!” Yue grinned from ear to ear, caring not in the slightest the look of dour jealousy and calculated guilt staining Gwen’s brow.

“We’re gonna be the dynamic duo! The Evoker sisters of Blackwattle!” Yue uttered jubilantly.

"Dynamic duo!" Gwen echoed, swallowing her pride.

The newly-formed classes slowly converged into their assigned groups. Now that aptitude results were assigned and recorded, classes would resume in their new configurations within the week.

For Spellcraft students, boarding on campus was compulsory.

On the weekend they returned home and sorted out parental notifications. To Gwen, the ordeal reeked of overreach and authoritarianism. Should a parent deprive the State of a much-needed body, harsh penalties applied.

And so, with a feeling of ambivalence, Gwen said goodbye to Yue, then returned home to deliver, she supposed, the bad news.

When she once again boarded the tram, Gwen realised the day was still young. As it was still mid-noon, she decided to take the opportunity to engage in some academic research on her current condition.

She switched light-rails for the State Library, northward of Hyde Park. As a Spellcraft student, her I.D. card allowed her limited viewing of closed resources on magical lore. Not knowing where she should begin, Gwen withdrew several rudimentary tomes to dispel some of her ignorance.

As knowledge new and old agonisingly conjoined, she came to realise that just how far she was up shit creek without a paddle.

First of all, in this world, Spellcraft was kept behind closed doors. Beyond the first few tiers of magic, there existed little to no information on efficient methods of training. Knowledge beyond the high school syllabus was well restricted in a world without Wikipedia, or an encyclopaedia, for that matter. Here was a world where tertiary-level knowledge was given exclusively to those who were meritocratically proven.

In the old world, she could Google the theory behind nuclear fission in five minutes. In this world, she had better make it to university before learning anything beyond tier III magic.

All in all, there were nine tiers of Spellcraft, classified as spells, rites, and strategic class rituals. Thanks to modernised Spellcraft theorems, elemental affinity directly impacted the effect of spells. Moreover, magical phenomena were transmogrified by Spirits and Meta-magic, creating a vast array of spells near-impossible to document.

By the same measure, professional instruction came in the form of Master and Apprentice. For one in Gwen's present condition, the Instructions given to the masses served only to produce fodder Mages necessary for filling gaps in the battle lines. Even when one was lucky enough to employ a Master, few Magisters were willing to teach the secrets of their craft to anyone but a legitimate heir.

Nonetheless, Gwen kept on reading.

Spellcraft was the manifestation of magic. Casting a spell was achieved via incantations. Incantations, consisting of both aural and somatic components, served to trigger mnemonic procedures necessary for shaping arcane energies.

The source of a Mage's power was their Astral Soul, perceived in deep meditation as one's Astral Body, which a Mage’s affinity for specific Schools of Magic manifested as Sigils.

A person’s Sigil shaped the mana from the Elemental Gate from Fire, Water, and Earth to more exotic powers such as Dust, Magma and even Radiance.

Thus, a Spell began in the form of raw spiritual energy or Mana emitted by the Astral Body. The Mage's elemental affinity supplemented this energy through the individual’s Elemental Gate. Simultaneously, invocations shaped the energy as it coursed through a Mage's mana conduits, exiting the body as the desired phenomena.

The process was simple enough in theory, but the problem lay with the exponential complexity of spells as they increased in tiers.

A tier I spell was a little more than a single incantation. A tier II spell had three incantations. A tier III spell had nine, and tier IV spell a whopping twenty-seven. Each existed as a highly complex pattern of thought that must be fluidly delivered through the correct intonation. If a spell failed, the Mage suffered mana burn. Usually, failure resulted in dizziness and nausea. With higher spells, the caster could be incapacitated. At its extremity, the invoker may be reduced to a blithering idiot.

In this manner, complex phenomena were incredibly challenging to manifest, as the mana requirement was proportional to the risk of failure and self-harm.

Gwen tried to imagine an Archmage casting a legendary tier IX spell, using old world algorithms to crunch the numbers. It would consist of six-thousand and sixty-one incantations performed mentally without error.

By Pythagoras! She sucked in a cold breath of air.

No wonder there were only a handful of these individuals in the world; a few dozen Mages out of five billion human beings were capable of becoming arcane supercomputers.

Gwen read on. There was a section on affinity for Schools of Magic. It would appear that Mages were born with affinities for particular forms of magical phenomena. Evokers, the most common, were adept at releasing energy. Conjurers were best at coalescing and calling forth objects and creatures. Abjurers could create solid matter as barriers.

Any attempt at using a School of Magic in which a Mage lacked affinity would require excessive concentration, risking mana burn.

On the other hand, possessing a Sigil—a talent Mages tend to be born with—made invoking that School of Magic almost second nature.

Gwen closed the book despairingly. So that was why her instructor had told her that she could only be a utility mage—a third-rate healer, a spotter for the Evoker battalion, a controller for the levitation transports, an operator in the Divination department. It was because she couldn't cast spells in the heat of combat.

When she turned the page of another primer, she saw that there was a cantrip on the page before her; something so simple it didn’t even require a Sigil. These simple spells were called Cantrips.

Closing her eyes, she began the chant.

"Mage Hand!"

In her mind's eye, she felt the flow of mana race through her body, tingling her skin as they passed through her body's conduits. She envisioned a hand, an invisible astral limb, holding up the book she was reading.

"Mother, look!" Gwen's moment of serenity was interrupted by the cry of a child.

The hefty tome fell into her lap.

She was still in the midst of the library and that the pale glow of mana emitted by her indiscretion had caused a stir. There was a child who stared at her wild-eyed, pointing a rudely erect finger toward her face.

"Samuel!" The mother retracted the child's hand. "It's rude to point!"

She turned to regard Gwen with a frightened, apologetic face.

"I am sorry, Mistress Mage.” The mother’s voice trembled.

"It's fine," Gwen promptly responded, her face flushing a shade of scarlet.

“Miss, no phenomena in the public space please.” Came a voice from behind them. It was a librarian whose face scrunched with displeasure.

“I am sorry,” Gwen apologised. "It won't happen again."

"Thank you, ma’am," the woman bowed.

To be so afraid of even a worthless Mage like me, Gwen thought sadly.

This world was a two-tier dystopia. Here the Mages were nobles and the nonmagical population the serfs. Such was the difference in their natural endowment. She wondered what compelled the Mages to live beside the NoMs. Noblesse oblige?

Though Mages and citizens had agreed to abide by the metaphorical Magna Carta, it was evident that Mages occupied a position irreplaceable by the NoMs.

A system of nobility based upon genetic meritocracy? Gwen shuddered. A eugenicist's wet dream.

Again, her alter-memories reminded her that when survival was at hand, the handing over of power to a small and elite group of individuals seemed natural and unquestionable.

When the creatures of the Wildlands came, a party of combat Mages could defeat a hundred monsters. A single Magus could annihilate a hoard infestation in a single large-scale assault. A Magister could take on a “General” class magical beast. A Magi? They were more akin to nuclear deterrents in Gwen's old world. They kept the fragile peace through mutually assured destruction.

We won't nuke your monster Necropolis if you leave our human Metropolis alone, Gwen mused cynically. To be a Mage in a world where magic ruled.

The aptitude test was a watershed moment; when the Schrödinger's cat was finally out of the box. Most of the time, the cat died. Sometimes, the cat lived. Once in a blue moon, what came out was a Displacer Beast. But until then, all children were Tabula Rasa.

Ping!

An announcement echoed across the library. "We will be closing in ten minutes."

Gwen closed the books. It was time to face the music.

Chapter four

Familia

When she was eleven, Gwen's parents had separated. Custody, alimony, property splits, embittered family and caustic dialogue all took their toll. It had been a terrible time for the teenage Gwen, who through it all, tried to take care of her brother Percy.

In the end, she had powered through and believed herself stronger for surviving the drama. She suffered a few psychological tics but it was nothing a North Shore therapist couldn't resolve, especially aided by pharmacology, the 'magic' of her old world.

She had believed her past behind her, yet here she was, ambushed by her second adolescence.

The district they lived in, Forestville, was primarily for working class Mages and NoM civilians. The streets were narrow and cramped, and her area of the neighbourhood, lovingly designated Zone Eleven, was filled with stifling habitat blocks smothering one another’s access to sunlight, ensuring that the vast majority of residents lived in permanent shadow.

"Oi, lover!"

"Give us a kiss, sweetheart!"

"I could play with those legs for days!"

Catcalls from the locals were a common occurrence in Forestville. The district was filled with unemployed NoMs and luckless Mages half-hanging out of windows in their sweat-stained shirts.

Gwen hastened her pace and made for the apartment.

She paused in front of the gates, attempting to collect herself. Now that her talent was set in stone, she had people to disappoint.

At the thought of her mother, Gwen shuddered involuntarily. Her memory threw up the vision of a fierce, beautiful, vivacious existence offset by hare-brained schemes and bouts of irrational jealousy. Mid-life crisis combined with a bi-polar personality had ensured that the old Gwen lived in abject terror of her mother's slightest displeasure.

Her alter-self couldn't understand why her father, Morye Song, a half-Russian, half-Chinese Abjurer, a ‘success story’ migrant, had chosen to remain in her mother's orbit.

But Gwen did. The reason was simple.

Economic reality was a bitch.

The apartment under which she stood belonged not to their father but their mother, or more accurately, her Clan. It was only by their mother's charity that their unambitious, skirt-chasing father could afford a comfortable lifestyle for the kids. Simply put, the economic impetus of a roof over their heads bound Gwen and Percy to their mother, likewise serving as a Sword of Damocles held over the head of her ex-partner.

She pushed through the front gate. The six-storey building did not possess a levitation platform. The physically demanding ascent gave her more time to catch up with memories of her alter ego.

Her parents had met while studying, catching on like a house on fire.

Of course, the brightest candle burns only half as long, and her mother was glycerine.

By an age when alter-Gwen was old enough to understand, their different upbringings made them less kin and more malice. Helena was an ambitious princess, Morye was a laidback bloke. It was all very Edward Albee.

When Gwen grew up hale but otherwise mundane, tested to reveal precisely nothing by the divisive age of ten, the marriage had reached its limit.

“Your blood is weak,” her mother had announced one day, long before Percy had displayed his potential.

The argument escalated, and more than just dinner was destroyed that night.

Soon, the revelation came that her mother had found an old flame, a former admirer, an industrious tier IV Earthen Enchanter-Magus who had a lingering crush on the vivacious girl of his dreams.

Rationally, it was a reasonably prudent and pragmatic choice. If and when the Shield Barrier failed, would one prioritise some no-name Barrier Abjurer, or would one preferably be escorted to the nearest Freight-Carrier as the partner of a vital Fabricator?

She ascended the last flight of stairs, out of breath and feeling torn. How should she deal with her parents? Could she even see them as her own? Certainly, they were the biological parents of this body she now inhabited, but…

Gwen turned the handle.

Was her father home? Discerning his work schedule at the Barrier Station was difficult. After the divorce, Morye had found rebirth in playing with younger women. Was it a little payback for her mother's possessive ownership over his children? Then again, Gwen reminded herself, in this world or the last, Morye's priority had always been himself.

She arrived at the door labelled 306, turned the keys, and entered.

Inside, Percy was chewing through Allenberg’s Primer for Astral Theory on a desk covered with notes. From the looks of his copy, her brother had sunk far more hours into it than she ever had.

“I am back!” Gwen announced to the world.

“Welcome back, sis,” Percy addressed her.

Gwen dropped off the books in the cramped living room, then slumped into the decaying foam of their two-decade-old couch.

“What you having for arvo tea?” she asked.

“The usual, Sambal Eggs.”

“I'll have it on bread.”

“Do it yourself, ya lazy bum!” her brother replied tartly.

"Make it for me! Please?"

"Arrrgh! Stop pinching me!"

Percy made afternoon tea, and the two shared a meal of dubious eggs.

“So…” Percy said finally, “how did the aptitude test go?”

"Evoker, null element," Gwen admitted with a bittersweet tone.

"Congrats!" Percy raised a fork to toast, then realised what his sister had said. "Oh."

"It's fine." Gwen put on a wan smile.

She supposed it was better than being a NoM.

Percy went to a Selective High School, where the guy that no one wanted to pick for a ball game would be minimum tier II something. Percy himself was probably tier III at worst, higher if he got lucky.

Telling him that she awakened as a no-element Evoker was akin to the old-world version of informing a peer on the University of Sydney medicine track that you managed to get into an Arts degree at a vocation college. She felt embarrassed just saying it.

The peppery-chilli eggs turned to ash in her mouth.

"I am happy for you." Percy tried to say something comforting, but he was just a kid with an adolescent's emotional quotient. Percy's education placed exceptional emphasis on talent, privilege, and the promise of a holier-than-thou future. From the look of consternation on his face, Percy appeared abashed and confused. Gwen knew that he of all people would be aware that once they were no longer children, their only contact may be through Christmas dinners. Even across worlds, some things ran on parallel rails.

"It's okay," Gwen said finally after a moment. "Thanks for caring."

"I'll be in my room. Got a lot of work to cover,” Percy replied in kind. He packed the paper plates and dropped them in the bin before returning to his room. "You do the pans."

Gwen growled. This world or that one, she hated doing the washing.

Gwen pulled her face from the primer manual spread out in front of her. After another few more hours brushing up on theory, she once again felt the itch for some practicum.

Their apartment was built on the top floor and had access to the rooftop, thanks to fire regulations.

Gwen recalled the feeling of trying to summon the Mage Hand and found herself a comfortable spot in the sun. She opened the manuscript of Black’s Transmutation Cantrip for Beginners and turned the page.

Mage Hand

Conjuration, Cantrip

Casting Time: 1 minor Incantation

Range: visual, up to ten metres

Components: Somatic

Duration: one minute + variable

The caster creates a hovering hand capable of manipulating small objects.

Gwen could see why the process was considered arcane. Beyond general advice, there was almost no indication of how to manifest the phenomenon; her manuscript was particular to the author. If she were to peruse different editions, they would have different annotations.

She calmed her mind and tried to think of nothing, banishing her anxieties and worries for the moment.

Invoke the Sigil.

Channel the mana.

"Mage Hand!"

And Release!

In her mind's eye, she caught sight of a School-less Sigil, requiring no astral attunement. She felt something pour from her thoracic diaphragm and traverse under her skin. A tingling sensation exited her fingers with a lilac spark, then in front of her, a semi-transparent hand manifested.

No, not a hand. It was more like a presence; a constrained force that was moulded and shaped by her will. She imagined it lifting up her manuscript and felt the phantom feeling of weight upon her fingers. That’s why it’s Phantom Hand, Gwen realised. It was much easier to replicate the arcane phenomenon by drawing upon physical synaesthesia.

So that's Somatic casting, Gwen mused to herself. Most spells required at least one free hand to indicate direction and expression. It took years of practice to forgo the somatic component, longer to forgo the verbal component.

She played with the telekinetic hand for a minute, lifting and moving the pots and plants that littered the rooftop, noting the diminishment of the spell’s effect over time. She wished that there was a numerical value to mana, but apparently, that was too difficult to apply systematically and universally. Additionally, as the spell drained mana from her Astral Body, she could feel the onset of a mental fatigue like the brain drain one felt when trying to solve a complicated equation for too long.

Alright, she told herself, not a bad start.

Satisfied, she produced another textbook, Otsu's Primer for Evokers, and turned to the only level one Evoker spell without any elemental affinity—the ubiquitous Magic Missile.

Magic Missile

Evocation

Casting Time: 1 Major Incantation

Range: visual, about 30 to 40 metres

Components: Somatic

Duration: instantaneous.

Launch three or more projectiles of force at a designated target. When used in its default capacity, this spell possesses line-of-sight target seeking.

If she registered as a tier I Evoker, she would need to be sufficiently proficient in demonstrating an Evocation spell.

Once again, Gwen uttered the invocation for the Evocation school.

It felt stupid completing her invocation with a boisterous 'Magic Missile!', but she had no other instructions to follow.

With measured confidence, her mind tapped into the celestial conduit of the Evocation Sigil. She tried to envision three objects of force, each shaped by a keen edge.

Invoke the Sigil.

Channel the mana.

"Magic Missile!"

And Release!

The expectant thud of three projectiles chipping concrete did not manifest. Instead, a sudden, dizzying sickness overwhelmed her. With a violent start, she doubled over and retched up a serving of fried eggs, curling up on the concrete pavement like a cooked prawn.

Gwen groaned, keeping her head perpendicularly rested on the side as to avoid choking on her vomit. Insufficient ability to tap into the pathways of magical schools meant that unspent mana fed back into her body; the book had stated as much.

After a quarter of an hour, she returned to the kitchen and washed out her mouth.

No more chilli eggs before practising, Gwen reminded herself.

She then returned to the rooftop and hosed down the area with the garden sprayer.

The primer inferred that the only way to overcome mana sickness was efficient activation of the Sigil, and that came with experience and talent; ideally, a combination of the two.

Gwen steeled her spine, settling again into her mind’s eye.

Another episode of gut-wrenching nausea followed her second attempt.

Right, no solid food before practice. Gwen cleaned up after herself. She felt the slow onset of despair as denial turned to anger.

By her third attempt, Gwen failed to manifest the Sigil. She was mana drained, or as the popular parlance would have it, she was OoM, out of mana.

No blue, no spell. An exacting law of Spellcraft.

Three spells and I am out. Gwen thought to herself, feeling her mana recollect slowly.

The more she failed, the more Gwen grew frightened of what her failure implied. Driven by tenacity as much as anxiety, she continued to experiment well into the evening, choosing to push past the toll it took on her physical body.

When finally the last drop of stomach acid had been dry-heaved, she sat back in a daze and pondered the possibility of accepting her traumatising reality.

She turned again to her books, trawling through every word and paragraph to find some clue. Had she been the scion of some great, influential house, they would have found tutors, associates and allies to teach her, but Gwen was all on her own, and only she could be the instrument of her metamorphosis.

Clang!

The mesh door opened behind her.

The baritone voice of her father pierced through the threshold.

“Good gods!” Her father's eyes widened at the terrifying state of the rooftop, filled with scrunched kitchen wipes and the contents of his daughter’s digestive tract.

“Hey, Dad,” she meekly mumbled.

“Gwen, what are you doing! You little idiot! You can’t rush these things!” Her father’s voice was unusually worried and tender. He extended a hand and Gwen took it, feeling her father's affirming grip retrieve her from the floor.

“I know, Dad. I had a long day, that's all,” Gwen returned. She regarded her other-father in the mauve sunset and saw genuine worry in his eyes.

The Morye of this world was ruggedly handsome, with a chiselled jawline and high cheekbones carried over from his Eastern European heritage. His eyes, two dark brown orbs, were soft and gentle. Curiously, he was a few centimetres shorter than his teenage daughter, although considering her six-foot height, his limited stature was barely noticeable until they stood side by side. An imperturbable man of carefree nature, there was a subtle masculinity in Morye that seemed to attract particular types of women.

“Thanks for asking,” Gwen answered softly, struggling to erase the edge in her voice.

“Don’t be so cold,” her father responded, sensing the distance in his daughter. “Come on. I bought some wonderful stuff for dinner.”

She returned with him down into the apartment, where Percy was setting up the dinner table.

“Roast wild quail,” her father stated. “From the Wildlands. It should help you replenish your mana.”

Unlike domesticated beasts, many of the flora and fauna that lived beyond the human cities possessed qualities beneficial to Mages.

The culinary fare was another point of disparity that made Gwen’s desire to equalise her position more difficult. The scion of a wealthy Magus family would have consumed naught but quasi-magical diets throughout his or her life, and in a world where every ounce of mana counted, it made a significant difference.

“Let's eat,” Percy begged. “I am a growing kid!”

“Alright, go ahead." Gwen chuckled, sliding into her seat as her family dug into the food.

“I am happy that you made it as a Mage,” her father said when the quail had gone the way of the dodo.

“I am glad too,” Gwen remarked, unconvinced.

“So, an Evoker huh?” Her father grinned. "It’s a great school for progression, pretty good for getting out there into the Green and Orange Zones.”

“Yeah.” Gwen nodded, wondering if she should confess to her father that she was not technically a true Evoker, merely registered as one.

“If there’s anything you need…” her father began.

As her memories continued to meld, Gwen felt torn by a dissonance of logic and emotion. Her unbidden memories threw up a brief vision of her father disinterestedly watching her mother dash their dinner to pieces, sardonically putting an apathetic cigarette to his lips as she screamed and raged. The whole while, Percy had hidden in her room while Gwen had peeked from a gap in between her bedroom door.

“It's okay, Dad." Gwen recovered from the disturbing recollection. “I’ll manage, and I’ll let you know if I need anything, I promise.”

“Alright.” Her father smiled wearily, unsurprisingly breathing out with evident relief. "You’re a big girl. You let me know.”

With dinner over, Gwen wanted to return to the rooftop, but her father disallowed it, citing the disturbance it would cause to neighbours if they saw disorganised, impulsive flashes of mana blasting from their building.

“Hey, before you go…” the man continued. Gwen could see her father's Adam's apple bobbing back and forth. It was a tic; her father always did this when he was forcing himself to commit to something.

“Your grandfather gave me this when I came into my talent.” Morye removed a jade pendant in the shape of a Kirin, a mythical chimaera. “I want to give it to you, now that you too have become a Mage.”

Gwen took the pendant in her hand and felt the residual warmth remaining on the jade. “Thanks, Dad, I'll cherish it,” Gwen replied, feeling surprised at her father's offer. From the corner of her eye, she could see Morye staring at the jade longingly for a moment more. When she looped the pendant on her neck, he seemed to resign himself to his decision.

“I am glad to give it,” he said finally, giving Gwen the expression of one releasing some great burden.

“Is it special in any way?” Gwen asked gingerly, testing the waters.

“It brings fertility and fortune.” her father said.

“Please be serious,” Gwen asserted coldly.

“I have no idea.” Her father shrugged. “It's a keepsake from the old country.”

“From Grandfather?” Gwen pushed the question a little more. Her father had very few triggers though questioning how their family had become lost in the Old Country was one of them.

“Go get some rest.” As expected, her father's response grew evasive. A look of weathered annoyance spread across his scowling face. “You have a big day ahead," he warned her. “You need to report to your mother.”

Her supper immediately threatened rebellion. "I am going to sleep."

With dinner concluded, Gwen retired to her room. She stepped into a hot shower, then slipped into a meditative shower zen.

What a day.

She woke up firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place.

Despite her best and most ardent attempts, it was impossible to invoke that damn Evocation Sigil.

A mere tier I spell! Gwen baulked at the thought. What would happen when she had to practice spells with two-digit incantations? Would her head explode like an overripe grapefruit?

Little wonder so few people make it past Magus, Gwen sighed. The mental toll could make Sambal Eggs from your brain.

Exhausted, she returned to the same bed from which she’d awoken, its sheets still unmade.

Hopefully, when she woke up again, it would be beside seaside Sydney.

Chapter five

The Longest Day

Paranoia tormented Gwen through the night.

Why was she there? What happened to the teenage Gwen of this world? In fact, now that she thought about it, what about her thirty-year-old body? Would her secretary, Becky, find her boss in a state of decomposition? Would the Herald Sun report on her mysterious demise with the headline, 'Woollahra woman mysteriously dead: face eaten by her two cats! pictures inside!'?

Hovering above and watching herself below, her body began to writhe on the bed, softly whimpering as if taken by a night terror. Within her mind, her twin animus folded upon themselves like origami, collapsing, collating and condensing until her consciousness became obscure and ambiguous.

The scene of her Awakening once again flashed upon her inward eye. Little squiggly Sigils crawled across her vision, manifestations from a feverish brain. In anger, she reached out and grasped at the illusive Glyphs, tearing from the celestial nebulas handfuls of stardust.

Once again, there were two of her—one crackling with energy, the other glowering with obsidian malevolence, consuming one another like dissolving twin stars. Whenever a sliver of shadow broke from the confines of her body, a stab of lightning banished it below the surface. Where the light had filled her to the point of bursting, the shadow consumed it for fuel.

Her existential struggle continued until it assumed the shape of a lithe female silhouette; an obsidian glass sculpture. Slowly, her consciousness settled back into her body, forever anchored to its host upon the Material Plane.

Gwen awoke in the late morning, exhausted by insomnia. Every bone in her body felt sundered as she lay in bed, paralysed in a pool of salty perspiration.

Jesus. Gwen pressed her swollen eyes. Had she been crying? Her lips were parched, and her tongue was on fire.

Painfully, like lifting a dumbbell, she moved an arm across her chest. With a grunt of wilful imposition, she threw herself from the bed in a moment of dizzying weakness. She struck the carpet below, taking deep lungfuls of air, each gasp sending electric shocks through her torso.

Was this the price of training foolishly and unwisely? Gwen tried to recall her actions from the night before. Was it impossible to overcome talent with effort?

Leaning against her nightstand, Gwen stood; her trembling legs may as well be wet spaghetti.

She checked her clock.

Eleven AM.

“Aw, shit,” she cursed. She was going to be late for her mother; a direr prospect than trying to move her battered body.

Forcing herself into the shower, Gwen leaned against the cold tile and let the warm water run over her. The steam soothed her bruised tendons and eased the dryness in her throat.

When was the last time she’d cried?

She did not recall having such moments of emotional vulnerability, at least, not since her old world family had gone their own way.

But her youthful body was only fifteen—a vulnerable, hormonal flesh-and-blood biochemical construct undergoing puberty. She could sense the dissonance of her helpless psyche and her temperamental physique. She was a changeling, simultaneously young and old.

Gwen turned off the tap. Now, she must meet her other-mother.

Within a particular section of her wardrobe was kept all the presents given to alter-Gwen by her mother. By Helena's decree, whenever they met, Gwen should publicly display her appreciation for her mother’s “tender loving care”.

A dizzying array of dresses presented themselves.

With a sharp eye, she picked out a blue Miu Miu one-piece and a pair of Mary Janes which the old Gwen had kept polished to a dazzling shine. From another drawer, she unfolded a velvet package and retrieved a leather handbag she couldn't possibly afford.

The selection suited her skinny, adolescent body well. After brushing down her defiant hair and touching up her brows and lashes, she flew down six flights of stairs to the tune of clicking heels.

As she staggered out the door, Gwen observed that her alter ego disliked the feeling of having her legs bared to the world, fearing that her long and shapely limbs drew unwanted attention. Presently, however, she cared little for such immature self-consciousness. A woman's beauty was her own; she could damn well do as she pleased.

The station was only a few minutes away from her habitat block.

The Forestville to City-Circle was far more crowded than Gwen had expected, and by the time the 'all stop to Central' pulled past Redfern, it was jam-packed. Lulled by the beat of the train's wheels against the tracks, she thought of her mother and how she would broach the subject of her lack-lustre, uncompetitive Awakening, hopefully not giving herself away in the process.

In this world or the other, her relationship with her mother was tumultuous at best. Gwen knew from experience that behind the facade of their cordial monthly meetings and trendy, expensive dinners was the expectation that she would not fail her mother’s Dickensian great expectations.

"Erh…"

A reflexive moan issuing forth from her lips took her by surprise. She quickly turned her body against the crowd of impatient passengers to hide her flushing face. The mere thought of Helena's frigid face made her want to suck in her gut.

Get a grip, girl! Gwen commanded her unruly teenage body. Was she ever this emotionally unstable?

She felt a sudden chill.

Her meditative introspection was rudely interrupted by a tactile invasion creeping up her thighs, sending goosebumps up her torso. There was suddenly the horrid, slimy sensation of a foreign appendage pressing against her buttocks.

Her immediate reaction was to freeze up like a deer caught in the path of a fireball, her body turning rigid as paralytic shock overwhelmed all awareness.

Gwen, GET A GRIP!

Through sheer force of will, her all-consuming rage restored some of her mobility. This assault on her person was an outrage! She was being invaded and violated. She required the immediate expulsion of her offender from the world of the living!

Slowly, she turned her face, bringing the full force of her heterochromatic hazel eyes to bear.

Crack!

An odour of ozone filled the air.

Unbidden, the tension drained from her body. Gwen felt the snap of something unleashed, a violent flash of mana igniting the conduits of her body, accompanied by the dizzying sensation of mana drain. A Tyrian-purple shunt of electricity ran along the metallic door of the carriage, crawling across its surface as a fissure of lightning. Above, lumen-bulbs grew several magnitudes brighter before bursting in a shower of sparks, sending its diffused mana all over the cabin.

An alarm screamed through the carriage as the public display panel began to screech.

“Spells are forbidden on public transports.”

“Violation of the Transport Safety Act is a federal offence.”

“Remain calm as officers will momentarily be onsite.”

“Remain still. Scrying spells are in effect,” a chirpy female voice informed the passengers.

A circumference of space cleared around Gwen. Murmurs of disbelief passed between passengers.

It was evident who the miscreant had been. A young man with a terrified mien and Einstein hair sat on his bottom, a wet patch on his pants where a single pulse of electricity had made him instantly incontinent.

“Spare me, please,” the offender moaned. “I didn't mean it, it. It was an accident.”

“Holy crap, did you see that?”

“A Quasi-elemental Mage!”

“What an unlucky bastard.”

“That's like assaulting a Magical Beast in public,” someone joked.

“God, I wish I awakened as a Quasi-Elementalist.” A passenger sighed.

“I hope there's not going to be a delay,” a more pragmatic voice joined the first.

Below her, the young man whimpered.

“I didn't know! I didn't,” her assailant grovelled.

A feeling of disgust aside, Gwen was just as shocked as her offender.

What the hell was that!?

She tried to recall the last ten seconds.

The man's filthy paw had touched her buttocks, then sparks had flown every which way. Gwen quickly searched within herself and felt an absence of mana. She had invoked something, no doubt about that, but how had she done it?

The far side of the carriage slid open and a path was made by the crowd to admit the attending officers. Their uniforms revealed them to be RailCorp Mages, both conductor and guard.

“Alright, clear out,” commanded the lead officer in his navy uniform. “Who cast the lightning spell?”

When they saw that the crowd had made a circle around Gwen, their attitude grew incredulous.

“G’day.” One of them tipped his hat. “Can someone tell me what happened here?”

A dozen voices spoke at once, with the two officers taking note of the consensus.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” one of them questioned the offender, having already framed the occurrence within his mind.

“It… it was an accident,” the young man maintained.

“NoM.” The senior the officers pinched the bridge of his nose. “You better be sure of what you’re saying, because of two reasons. One, you just assaulted a Mage, and Two…”

He turned to Gwen.

“Miss, we are going to need your student I.D.”

“Yessir,” Gwen replied demurely and produced her I.D. from her handbag.

“And two, you assaulted a minor.”

The man’s face was ashen and dripping.

“Which means, for either infringement, we’re authorised to use Mind-Magic on you.” The officer smirked smugly. “So, NoM, what'll it be?”

“I-I tried to touch her inappropriately.”

“Now then.” The officers noted each other's acknowledgement before turning to Gwen politely. “Your I.D. please, young lady. You’re not in too much trouble, but it is still a crime to use a spell on the public transit system.”

Gwen recognised in the officer's halting tone that there was wiggle room in the man's edict. In addition to the trouble that would come with being charged with a public offence, having a penalty for magical misdemeanour would poorly impact her academic record.

While pondering her next course of action, she felt a breeze pass between her legs. Her alter ego would have burst into tears, but she was no shrinking violet. Men, particularly men in positions of power, responded very well to vulnerability.

“I am sorry.” Gwen made herself smaller, leaning a little against the pane of the door so that it accentuated her long white legs. She looked up at the officers with downcast eyes moist with distress.

“I didn't know that someone would grab me by the… the… tooshie.” She opted for a more juvenile lexicon. She was just fifteen, after all. “I was so scared I lost control; I am not very good at spells. I Awoke yesterday.”

The officers' faces grew full of empathy and compassion. This poor girl! Such a sweet little thing! To give her a record would surely ruin her life, all because of this scum-sucking NoM! Some human garbage no better than fodder for the Goblins!

“We’ll just take a record, miss.” The senior of the two seemed to have made up his mind. “There will be no charges. Anyone can see that it was a genuine accident.”

When Gwen put her hand on her chest and felt her heart flutter, she was no longer acting. The mind was competent, but the body was inadequate.

“Thank you,” she replied sweetly, her face glowing with happiness.

“Aww,” the assemblage within the carriage nodded in satisfaction. Justice had transpired, and the incident would make a pleasant luncheon conversation to garnish their smashed avocado toast.

When the train pulled up to Central, the officers took down Gwen's details.

She bid them a g'day before realising with renewed dread that she was now indubitably late for her mother's appointment. Exiting Central, she began to sprint, clicking, clacking and turning heads wherever she went. Gwen soon arrived at Sheraton by the Park, where undoubtedly her mother was on the verge of burning down the hotel.

"Ma'am?" A footman gazed over's Gwen's panting form appreciatively.

She straightened her hair with her hands and followed the footman into the cafe. She didn't have to look far for her mother. Helena Huang always occupied the most conspicuous space.

Helena sat at the bar with a too-tight dress that hugged her curvaceous body ridiculously. Her mother was tall and voluptuous but had a way of carrying her sumptuous flesh sensually, as some women can. Even indoors she wore the classic brown Gucci shades that covered her face, framed by a mass of cascading black ringlets. Her scissored legs revealed toned, tanned thighs still supple and tight, her bosoms pressed to create an intrusive cleavage that drew furtive glances from men and women across the room.

“I am sorry I am late!” A sickly-sweet voice escaped her lips reflexively.

Helena swivelled in a manner that made it seem as though there was a camera somewhere.

Her mother took off her sunglasses with a swish of her voluminous hair to reveal dark eyeliners and too-thick lashes framing a vivid pair of eyes.

“My lovely Guinevere,” her mother intoned in that sickly-rich voice of hers, full of the promise of exciting things. Her real name was just “Gwen”, but her mother would have liked it be something with more cultured.

Crossing the floor, the sensuous woman embraced her lithe daughter, forming an enviable arch of femininity. A blooming teenager, a youthful mother, a backdrop of flowers and desserts at the high tea room of the Hyde Park Sheraton—that was Helena's perfect world.

Despite being an hour late, the maitre d’ micromanaged a free table for the two, at which point mother and daughter settled down to cakes, cups, and ices.

Watching her mother leave a perfect lip print on the china gave Gwen heartburn. Though high tea was a rare treat, the Royal Earl Grey threatened to revolt. After struggling to deliver a strawberry shortcake to her lips and failing to swallow the tarty dessert, she opted to just come out with the truth.

“So…” she coughed politely behind a serviette, “I got tested for aptitude yesterday, and I am an Evoker.”

Her mother’s hazel eyes were two balls of amber-green ice.

“That’s wonderful, dear,” her mother spoke in a manner filled with indifference. They said that the worst form of neglect wasn't aversion, but the cessation of care. "And?"

“Just… Evoker.” Gwen willed herself to look, but her body dared not meet her mother’s eyes. Helena's irises were even more striking than Gwen's; a rarified green with concentric yellow rings which delivered the terrifying impression of a tigress eyeballing its prey.

“I see.” Her mother smiled, but it was a smile with teeth.

They drank the tea in silence.

Gwen wondered what went through her other-mother's head. She knew that her maternal Clan was very wealthy in Sydney. Helena's brother and his wife were mediocre Mages, but opportunistic real estate brokers. Their son, Richard, attended The Prince’s College, the premier private magical institution in Sydney, as a Water Conjurer. Gwen's widowed grandfather was once a famed Enchanter, though now dangerously senile.

Helena must have hoped against hope that Gwen would give her something to brag about to her brother, but her expectation now died a dog’s death.

“Mother, I was groped by a guy on the train,” Gwen said suddenly, the words blurting out of her mouth as though possessing a mind of their own. “I managed a spell discharge—”

“It's getting late,” her mother interjected suddenly.

"Mother…"

“Gwen. It is rather late.” Helena repeated herself, her tone frosty with rime.

When Gwen regained control of her body and attempted to salvage some dignity, her mother's expression soured. Did Helena think she was lying to diffuse her anger? Trying to score pity marks? Not even her original mother had been this bad!

You selfish bitch! she wanted to shout.

Her body responded by cramping up.

“Next time?” Gwen heard herself bleat, her guts pantomiming a pretzel.

Jesus, I am a grown woman… Her face flushed red with frustration and distress. What had Helena done to this poor girl? The Pavlovian response from her teenage body was beyond her mastery.

“I’ll call,” her mother replied, her eyes already in another place. "Goodbye."

Gwen made it as far as Hyde Park before she felt the impulse to tear off her expensive dress and give her Chanel bag to the nearest hobo. She wanted to cry; God knows she could use a good scream and howl. The soft fabrics of her expensive attire irritated her skin. She stood under the iconic cypresses that lined the World War I memorial and tried to collect herself as logic and psychosis jostled for control.

The struggle proved futile.

Her whole body shook uncontrollably; she wanted to vomit.

Something unspeakable bubbled forth from the dark recess of her tenebrous psyche.

"Blurrgh!"

Up came the short cake, together with a resonating eruption of mana from her Astral Soul. A feeling of self-loathing overwhelmed her as an inexplicable hunger coursed through her body. A shunt of dark energy, visible only at the edge of vision, encompassed her immediate surroundings. The lush lawn beneath her feet began to tear and disintegrate as abrasions lashed the trunk of the giant cypress, gouging grooves across the blonde flesh.

The effect seemed to last only a second, but her vitality was drained beyond measure. Her world began to spin as she slumped against the cypress, collapsing in a heap against its withered roots.

Gwen sat with a start, her body aflame with aching joints and tender flesh. She shivered in her sweat-soaked mini-dress.

Did I lose conscious in the middle of the city, in a public space?! Gwen marvelled at her inopportune epilepsy. She was damn lucky she hadn’t been assaulted or worse!

Instinctively, she felt for her bag, the absurdly expensive, near one-of-a-kind handbag from her mother.

Naturally, it had found a better, more astute owner.

Now she felt like crying, and not on behalf of her alter-ego either. This despair was her own, trying to come to terms with the succession of fucked up events that seem to pile on without end. First, she’d Awakened to become trash. Then, she was molested on the train. Now she’d fallen unconscious and been robbed. Maybe she'd be groped on the way back too, completing the fucking quad-factor.

Gwen felt that if she cried right here, right now, there would be no shame. She deserved a little emotional bloodletting, grown woman or otherwise.

Not to mention she was indeed bleeding.

Her Message Device, her “phone”, was gone as well, as was her cash. Thankfully, she still had an I.D., a currency card, and a train ticket in her skirt pocket.

Gwen stared blankly at the battered tree in front of her. Some arsehole had vandalised the park. Nothing was sacred in this world.

She looked about her dazedly. It was only her second day and already she could do with an overdose of Celexa and Buspar washed down with a double shot of Don Julio.

Her dress was soiled, her shoes dusty and the leather scuffed. Her thighs were covered in gunk. Her wounded knee stung.

She just wanted to go home and she had her ticket; that was good enough, for now.

Gwen stumbled to her feet, her hands brushing down her dress. It would need to be dry cleaned. More money, more costs she couldn't afford.

Like the blood, her mood consisted of a rusty, oozy melancholy. I guess this is how people get suicidal, Gwen thought to herself, watching the trains pull in. What a fucking day.

She stopped by the police box in Central and made a report. She left the officers her father’s Message Glyph, then stumbled her way toward the platform for South Sydney.

On the train, she hugged herself tightly against the pane of the double doors, the very picture of pity. With her blemished dress and a freshly scabbed knee, she must have thoroughly kindled the imagination of her fellow travellers.

By the time Forestville rolled around, she had politely explained to several Samaritans that she was alright and was now going home. At Redfern, she had threatened to call the Railcorp guards when a salacious salary man assumed she was homeless and wanted to know her nightly rate.

When she finally opened the door to her apartment in what felt like a return trip to Mordor, sans eagles, she was faced down by the surprised expression of her father.

“I got a call from the police…” he began, but Morye's face wasn't one of worry. It instead carried a look of guilt, like a child who'd been caught red-handed.

She was being rude, Gwen knew, but she was too mentally and physically drained to deal with her father right now. She pushed past Morye and made for the kitchen, where the family kept the medicine box.

“Hey! Go to your room.”

Gwen looked toward her father.

A woman called out from the kitchen. “Morye, is everything alright?” It was a voice she had never heard before. Gwen was very good with voices.

Fuck! Gwen heard herself scream internally. FUCK!

She was moving out next week, but this fucking guy…

This selfish piece of shit! Would it kill her dad to wait five fucking days before fucking a woman in the living room? Where the fuck was Percy? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Unwashed and no longer giving a shit, Gwen stumbled into her room while her father commanded her angrily to stay. Slamming the door, she locked it behind her.

What new fucking wonders would tomorrow bring? Gwen thought to herself bitterly. Her body struck the bed, falling into the darkness.

Chapter six

It Takes Three to Tango

There was blood on her sheets.

That is, Gwen's scraped knee had bled over her sheets.

Pulling the gauzy cotton painfully from her skin, she stripped the linen from her bed. The last thing she wanted to hear was her father's new beau having a crack at her bloody sheets.

Feeling far better, Gwen took a moment to compose her thoughts, mentally listing critical events moving forward:

1. Register with the school's dorms.

2. Sort out accommodation, hopefully with Yue.

3. Move stuff to the dorms and leave Morye behind forever.

4. Prepare for two years of Spellcraft boot camp.

5. Attend University—AGAIN. Become the greatest Mage of her generation.

6. Earn millions or billions; whose's counting?

7. Buy a new bayside house and retire with two cats. MAGICAL ONES.

8. Life, back on track!

Well, she snorted. Maybe just the first four for now.

That, and she needed a hot shower.

The tap screeched and a torrent of lukewarm water brought back her motivation for living. Gwen washed off the grime and dirt, making sure to pick apart her wounds for whatever part of Hyde Park that had come home with her.

Her mangled flesh stung like a bitch.

Knowing that her father and brother were out, she allowed herself the liberty of walking around the apartment in towels, enjoying a glass of cold milk as her injury aired out.

While she dried out, Gwen folded away her Miu-Miu dress for dry cleaning, packed away her shoes after applying some fix-it polish, and dressed in a cheap linen skirt hanging droopily just above her wounded knee.

I was a wizard once, but then I took a Magic Missile to the knee, she mused alone before becoming doubly depressed.

She rummaged through her closet and found the school diary, an old thing that they gave out every year. Gwen scanned the pages, found Yue’s number, then dialled it into the ancient corded phone that they kept near the kitchen.

"Yue, it's me."

“Hello? Who's this?” Yue’s voice sounded suspicious.

"It's me, Gwen," she repeated.

"Bloody hell, Gwen," Yue groaned. "I've been trying to call your Message Device since yesterday! Did you hear about our dorm arrangement?!"

"Dorm arrangement?"

"Yeah!" Yue's voice blasted her over the speaker. "It's bullshit!"

"What?" Gwen was now thoroughly confused.

"Didn't you check your phone?" Yue asked. "They sent out a Message yesterday."

"Ah." Gwen knew then that she had to share. "My phone. Right. Well, I’ve got a hell of a story to tell…"

The Message had informed students that they had to find a roommate or be assigned one. Furthermore, registration was on a first-come, first-serve basis.

Thus far, barring three misfits, all the students had already registered.

Misfit I was Yue, who had been waiting on Gwen, who had been AWOL.

Misfit II was Gwen, who was thinking of leaving this world for her old one.

Finally, there was misfit III, the silent Elvia, who, despite her sudden, unexpected fame, had no friends with whom to share a room.

As such, the trio received the use of a staff room where all three would have to share a common area, with the advantage of having an ensuite to themselves. The news would have been a remarkable boon for Gwen and Yue, but now they had a tag-along.

Yue continued to rant in that endearing but offensive vernacular of hers as Gwen searched her memory for information on their third wheel. Elvia was the kind of girl who was ever-present but never seen or heard. She tried to recall the girl's face, but remembered only long, ash-blonde bangs that covered her eyes. She seldom spoke and rarely interacted with others except when necessary. when she did, her soft voice made her strain to hear. She was short for her age, maybe edging past a metre-fifty, skinny too, giving the impression of one much younger.

That was it. That was all Gwen knew about this girl. A vague idea of what she looked like, and her unassuming hairstyle.

"Right? RIGHT?" Yue demanded on the other end of the phone.

"Yep, total bull," Gwen replied, having missed about half of what Yue had just spluttered.

"So how about you?" Yue asked, her voice becoming tender. "Shit's pretty shitty, but it doesn't stop us from having a nice meet up in the city. Wanna talk?"

"I think I’ve had enough of the city," Gwen replied. "Love to meet up, though. What you got in mind?"

"Wanna check out the dorm?" Yue suggested. "You gonna bring any furniture? I think the mail said all the usual furnishings are standardised, but you get to bring some crap along anyway. I wanna see how much room we have."

"It's close to the school, yeah?"

"Pretty much. It’s the apartment block directly behind it."

Gwen thought about it. She could walk to the station and catch a bus direct, as it was a weekday.

"Alright. See you there in an hour?"

"Cool, I am shouting you lunch," Yue added.

"No need."

"Too bad," Yue insisted sweetly. "After what you went through, you could use some sweet, sweet calories."

Gwen smiled.

There was a reason she thought of Yue so often, even after they’d gone their separate ways.

“Cheers, luv. See ya."

Gwen hung up and felt far less fatigued than before.

She was ready for a bit of that soulful healing they sang about in songs.

Unlike the day before, it only took her a few minutes to get ready; no need for makeup or lashes, just a dab of lipgloss, a quick hammering of her unruly long hair, and she was out.

Ignoring her smarting knee, Gwen pushed past the pain and made haste for the familiar comfort of her dear friend.

When the bus pulled up to the school gate, Yue was already waiting for her. It was break time for the juniors, and the fire Evoker already had a dozen of them making moon-eyes at her. The ones closest to Yue and trying to strike up a conversation were all girls; adorable juniors who wanted to know the secret of her Awakening. The boys hung back more apprehensively; Yue's reputation for having a barbed tongue had preceded her.

"Gwen!" Yue breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey." Gwen waved back.

"Who's that?" someone asked.

"Gwen Song."

"A nobody."

"I heard she’s a NoM."

"What a nuisance," a girl added unkindly.

"Shut your pie holes!" Yue shouted at the juniors, silencing them at once. "Stupid fuckwits."

Had Gwen done what Yue had just done, some of the juniors would have demanded to duel her. Yue, however, possessed the countenance of a Conjurer barking orders at her Familiars.

"Let's go." Yue urged Gwen to move.

"Are they staying together?" a student demanded incredulously.

"That's so unfair," a junior wailed.

"I want to room with Yue."

Yue dragged Gwen along until they were out of sight.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I am fine," Gwen replied, glad to be out of the limelight.

The duo made their way past the schoolhouse and into the residential zone that Blackwattle had prepared for its Spellcraft students. It was an old apartment, likely built in the first reclamation in the eighties, with a distinct Brutalist facade which said, “Come wind, rain, or Thunder Elemental, I am here to stay.”

The building's levitation platform was a freight-lift, rumbling unhappily up the shaft until it reached the top level. The staff room was no penthouse, but it offered a beautiful view of the city and the Barrier Shield that extended into the harbour.

At the entrance of 1201, they were surprised to find that the door was unlocked.

The girls exchanged a glance, then turned the handle.

What greeted them was the small figure of a girl with ash blonde hair, holding a dress in one hand and a coat hanger in another. Their intruder stared back, eyes wide with shock, the very picture of a doe the moment before it was incinerated by a Scorching Ray.

There was a silent scream. The girl had made the right expression but what emerged instead was a kind of half choked, half muffled yelp.

“Hello there,” Gwen said.

“…”

“I am Gwen Song."

“…”

We are off to a good start, Gwen thought.

“You a mute or something?” Yue asked suddenly.

Gwen pulled her friend's elbow. Elvia is a healer! She's a koala bear! You can't go around bullying national treasures.

“No,” a soft voice answered, sharp and high-pitched, like the trill of a nightingale.

“You got like, a condition or something?” Yue kept on with her interrogation. “Don't you think it's good form to ask our permission before you start unpacking your things?”

Elvia looked up, her eyes brimming with apprehension.

To their surprise, their intruder had a small face that was alluring and white, pale like milk; possessing a button nose that gave her the impression of a pixie or a fairy. Her lips, pink and delicate, were also pale and bloodless. Combined with her luminous ocean-blue eyes, she reminded Gwen of those uncanny character actors who played Disney princesses.

Gwen's heart melted like Devondale butter under a December sun.

The stunned expression, the soft eyes, the pale face; her maternal instincts were tripping every alarm in her body. Yue was an only child, and she couldn't possibly understand how Gwen felt. Gwen had raised Percy in her mother’s absence and desired more than anything to have a cute little sister she could hug and adore and cuddle.

Without a word, Gwen reached out to Elvia and pulled her to her chest.

“Yue, not another word.” Gwen made eyes at her friend that said she'd take care of it.

Yue maintained her cynicism as Gwen felt Elvia’s rigid body stiffen. The petite girl only reached her shoulders; her head was just the right height for Gwen to rest her chin. There was the delicious scent of expensive shampoo.

“There, there,” Gwen comforted the frightened little creature, gazing into Elvia’s eyes with her most sisterly expression. There was an attraction there; nothing unbecoming, of course, but an attraction nonetheless. Something about Elvia’s presence completed her in an inexplicable way.

“I am sorry,” Elvia stammered. “I didn't want to be a bother when you two are moving in.”

“Is that right?” Yue demanded sceptically.

“It's fine.” Gwen gave both the girls a reassuring glance. “We’re here to have a look at the room. You’re no bother. I am Gwen Song, and this is Yue Bai. Her name means white moon.”

“The Fire Mage?” Elvia asked, her eyes lighting up.

“The one and only.” Gwen nodded.

The girls measured one another with their eyes.

“I am Elvia Lindholm,” Elvia answered after an eternity. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” The diminutive girl looked up at Gwen. “Where are you from?” Elvia asked in that soft timbre of hers.

It was not an unusual question. In an overtly multicultural city like Sydney, people were often inquisitive about where someone was from, at least originally.

“I was born here, but my family came from all over,” Gwen satiated Elvia's curiosity. Her eyes, her height, her hair; nothing seemed to come as a racial set. “My mother is mixed South-east Asian, my father is Russian—Chinese, from near the Sino Fault.”

Elvia’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of wonderment.

“You're so pretty.” Elvia blushed adorably.

“So tall,” the girl added enviously.

Yue coughed, thrusting out her best features.

“You’re very pretty too,” Elvia added, her eyes becoming as large as ping pong balls. “I love your… erm… blouse.”

“I think we'll get along fine,” Gwen concluded with confidence.

“Like a house on fire,” Yue added with a grin that showed her pearly whites.

Elvia glanced at Yue shudderingly before being assuaged by Gwen that all evidence aside, Yue was not a deranged pyro.

Greetings accomplished, the girls went on to conduct the business of sharing a room. The spacious common area was divided into three sections, with each side having a bed, wardrobe, wall-mounted cabinet and a study desk. The foot of the bed had an enchanted storage chest linked to their mana signature. The third wall contained the shared bathroom. The room furthermore possessed a small kitchenette, the kind found in served apartments.

The girls soon agreed on their respective areas of privacy.

"Oh!" Elvia interjected. "Gwen! You're bleeding!"

Gwen looked down. "Ah, bugger," she cursed. Her wound was indeed weeping.

"Don't touch it." Elvia stopped her before Gwen could dab her knee with a tissue. "I can help." Kneeling in front of Gwen, she placed her hands just above Gwen's wound. "Healing Touch!"

A ticklish, tingling sensation crawled up Gwen's leg. "Oh!" Gwen fought an impulse to kick out. The itching grew unbearable.

"All done!" Elvia stood back proudly.

Gwen looked down.

The scab fell away, revealing pink flesh.

HOLY SHIT! Her mind rioted. REAL LIFE HEALING MAGIC?

"What do you like to eat?" Gwen asked the girls, testing her knee. "My shout."

After some deliberation, the trio made for Market City, where cheap, greasy food was sold daily by the tonne.

"I don't usually eat out…" Elvia confessed, appearing ready to receive their jeering.

"Yeah, I usually just eat home too," Gwen confessed in turn, somewhat misreading the sentiment. “It's much cheaper just to have toast."

"Oh, gods." Yue, who was a foodie, rolled her eyes, "This one time, Gwen placed a piece of soft bread between two toasted slices of multigrain bread, and called it a sandwich."

"That sounds… delicious?" Elvia's blue eyes glimmered. "But can't you put something else in the middle?"

"This one time I put leftover stir-fry. It was awesome." Gwen’s morale had now recovered enough to revealing her culinary secrets. Also, her knee appeared one-hundred-percent recovered. "It's even better if you can cram some spam in there."

Yue made a gagging motion, which made Elvia laugh. Yue had that sort of effect on people, Gwen noted, laughing alongside her peers. The girl’s chaotic mental metronome was enough to catch anyone flat-footed.

Soon, following a second serving, Elvia announced that any more food and she would burst at the seams.

Chapter seven

A Step in the Right Direction

It was time for Gwen to go.

With her father's latest lover still lounging in the living room, Gwen felt no obligation for an amicable departure as the last of her boxes were packed.

Her only regret was leaving Percy.

Her brother seemed precociously aware that, in a few years, the distance between himself and his sister would only continue to grow. As such, their parting the night before had been bittersweet. The guilt of having left her little brother in her past life, combined with the sentimentality of her usurped experiences, made the moment unnecessarily melodramatic.

They would always be siblings, of course, but this was a world far more meritocratic than her old one. Already, even at the tender age of thirteen, she could sense the waning kindness in his face. When Gwen tried to impart her worldly wisdom for the last time, Percy had the glazed look of someone who thought very little of her advice.

"That all, miss?" The removalist topped up his three-wheeled trolley.

Gwen looked back at the Forestville apartment and saw her father still fuming in the kitchen, her brother's door slightly ajar.

"Yeah." She shut the front door. "That's it."

The last of the boxes were pressed and packed for recycling as Gwen sat on the single bed of her new home for the next two years. Yue wouldn't be here for another day, while Elvia had said she would be moving in the following Monday.

So for the moment, Gwen had the place to herself - perfect for lonesome anxiety.

I was one traveller, long I stood…

looked down one as far as I could…

Brambles permeated her path, only she had no idea where the road bent in the undergrowth. A week into her new life, the wisdom of her old world was all the evidence she had of her former self. If she were to re-live her teenagehood, how was her old-world knowledge going to help her Spellcraft? Magic ignored every rule of natural philosophy she knew. She couldn't just pull a wonderful Wizard of Oz, could she?

Would scientific charlatanism be enough to walk the path of Spellcraft?

On that note, Gwen sighed. The more she learned about the road ahead, the less confident she grew.

Thus far, she had a year and a half of senior education to complete. Within that time, the Mages who were talented and those who were mediocre were divided again into separate vocations. Those with talent sought higher education, entering Mandatory Military Service as junior officers. Those without the talent joined foundational training in industries, beginning their military service as grunts.

Mandatory Military Service.

She had baulked when Yue had begun to boast about how much she looked forward to her rite of passage.

Actual combat against Monsters? She struggled to visualise the event.

I going to be Spellfodder. Gwen moped.

Think positive, think positive! She reversed gears, mumbling an ineffective mantra. There was nothing to be done now; naught but the coming on of human sleep.

Yue arrived a day later, accompanied by her father, who acted as her manual labourer. Mr Bai had known Gwen since they were young and so had asked her to look after his hot-headed daughter. Together they unpacked and waited for their third member.

"Where's your mum?" Gwen asked.

"She doesn't like to be around Mages. You know that, right?" Yue pushed a box under her bed. “For someone sensitive about her NoM status, my talent has got her in a good mood. She's been bragging to her family for the last week. I think the whole neighbourhood knows."

"Hahaha." Gwen chuckled. Even in this world, Yue's boisterous mother was the same.

Ding!

A Message spell bloomed beside Gwen's ear.

"Looks like Elvia's here early," Gwen remarked. "She's down below."

A gleaming Mercedes S-Class pulled up at the front of the apartment. A manservant opened the door for Elvia as another, the driver, took out her luggage. The vehicle would not have caused such a stir if they were in Pineford’s Ladies’ College up the Shore, but this was Blackwattle! It was a government-sanctioned Spellcraft school with blue-collar kids. Even the staff were a humble bunch, consisting of retired Mages from the government and the military.

After exchanging cheek-kisses with Gwen and Yue, the trio made for the ‘penthouse’ suite.

Chinese whispers ran rampant within the hour. Tales told of Gwen worming her deceptive way into the friendship of her better peers. Others declared that Gwen was a rebellious gal who ran a gang and had imperilled the two into accepting her. Another contested that Gwen was, in fact, the bastard daughter of a politician.

The truth behind the schoolyard jealousy was, as always, merely one of pragmatism.

During the summer semester, the school held a government-sanctioned live combat examination, known euphemistically as the Field Trip. For this field assignment, Mages were set up in parties of five. Naturally, everyone wanted to be on the team with a Healer and the top damage-dealing acolyte of the academy. All the A-team needed to add was an Abjurer, and they were good to dominate the competition.

November came in with an impending sense of dread.

In a manner befitting all public schools, the academic term plodded along, bulldozing forward with little concern for the student's natural abilities, sparing no sympathy for those who faltered. As Spellcraft students, their classes underscored current magical theory, progressing through a topics interchangeably given by staff and guest speakers.

Secondary subjects consisted of the necessities of life: Arts, Natural Philosophy, Politics for the boys, and insultingly, Home Economics for the girls.

For Gwen, every waking hour had been spent studying to catch up.

Additionally, Spellcraft students received two vital but limited resources: low-Density Mana Crystals known as “LDMs” and an allocated slot for the Cognisance Chamber.

When used, LDMs replenish mana, affording students additional practice with spell invocations. Through a repetitive cycle of magical manifestation involving drawing, moulding, and channelling mana, a Mage attained greater capacity for complex magic. Likewise, by pushing themselves to exhaustion, casters maximised the growth of their Affinity.

As a supplement, the Cognisance Chamber was a quasi-magical device constructed to allow Mages to see within themselves, visualising their Astral connections. However, as activation was resource intensive, each student received no more than a handful of opportunities to consult the Cog-Chamber.

“How do I know my Affinity?” Gwen enquired of Yue. “What does it do?”

Yue’s reply anecdotally drew upon the ubiquitous Fireball.

"The higher my affinity, the hotter my flame, the more penetrative my strike and the larger my area of effect. Like, Affinity also gives lower casting cost and therefore lesser risk of mana burn. So I guess it represents firepower!”

“Sir, do I possess Affinity?” Gwen had privately consulter her Evocation instructor.

“I am afraid not,” her teacher replied impatiently. “You don’t even have an Element.”

“Can I acquire one?” she followed up.

The unsympathetic instructor shook his head.

“No, you would need a Spirit- but Spirits only attune with Elementalists.”

Well, fuck. Gwen groaned. A low-tier Sprite could add a single tier of effectiveness to a Mage's spells. At higher tiers, sapient Sprites manipulated spells in unique and unimaginable ways.

Concurrently, her “General” lack of talent meant she couldn’t Element-shift. Observing her peers, she could see that Earthen Mages manifested Stone Shields and Fire Mages created Fire Shields which burned melee assailants. Conversely, a Water Mage produced a self-replenishing liquid Shield capable of nullifying lesser elemental effects.

The mechanical limitations of Spellcraft, therefore, was why Gwen's reputation as a null-Element preceded her.

When her turn in the Cognisance Chamber finally came, her peers jeered and joked as she made the inevitable walk of shame. It was two months into the academic term, and she was already infamous.

Her intimacy with Yue and Elvia served only to add fuel to the fire. She was very much the tall poppy. As a semi-giantess at six feet, she was instantly recognisable a block away. Her only saving grace, Gwen noted bitterly, was the absence of a scarlet “F” for failure on her uniform.

But social suicide wasn't her only problem. Her most vexing irritation was that in two months, she had yet to cast a single spell successfully without mana burn. According the theory taught in class, her incompetence made no sense, as many of the elementary spells were without an element.

Meanwhile, Yue had already managed a flame channel, which showed off by playing around with a dab of flame that danced harmlessly around her hands. Elvia, evidently born ready, effortlessly managed Healing cantrips.

Plagued by self-doubt and misery, Gwen made her way through to the Cognisance Chamber, jeered by cold glances and mocking faces.

Unsurprisingly, she was the last visitor.

The arrangement was that students with more “potential” were allowed to use the chamber first. Tellingly, it took two fortnights of micro-management to affirm her appointment.

"Don't worry, Gwen," her friends had comforted her. "Once you're in there, you'll know what's wrong."

"I am hopelessly optimistic," Gwen replied with a wan smile.

"You can do it," Yue declared. “Believe in yourself!"

“You’re reading way too many propaganda pieces," Gwen observed wryly. If wanting something badly enough made it happen, humanity wouldn't be half as desperate.

"I have confidence in you," Elvia likewise affirmed, straddling a pillow between her legs and her chest. "My dad says I have excellent magical senses, and you don't feel like a squib to me."

Gwen winced. A “squib” was a NoM born into a Mage bloodline. They were rare, but fate liked to play silly buggers.

At the door, a staff member scanned her ID card.

"You have an hour. Your student card should record any changes in your abilities," the middle-aged clerk, a NoM, informed her expressionlessly.

"Thank you, ma'am," Gwen replied politely nonetheless.

Inside the chamber was a raised central dais, the aesthetics of which reminded her of a Stanley Kubrick space module. Warily, she positioned herself, then waited for the Enchantment to activate.

Slowly, the room dimmed, its dimensions transforming into a grey, edgeless space. A reflection expanded below her body, refracted by illusory Glyphs that appeared above, beside and around her. According to the student guide, each Sigil the Acolyte gained appeared as glowing nebulas.

Gwen had two months of study under her belt. She was no longer blindly guessing at arcane phenomena.

Floating through the darkness, she made sense of the pseudo-space before beginning her navigation. she spotted an illuminated space not far away. Gwen willed her Astral Body towards what was hopefully her Evocation Sigil.

Yue had tried and failed to describe to Gwen the indefinable phenomenon, but the vision now had her heart pounding. When she came closer to the nebula of starlight, she could see it pulsing with a familiar twinkle, blinking and winking as though signalling her.

"Hello?" She thought out loud, her pulse quickening.

This better not be the precursor to something worse, she thought. That would be a bloody lark. She was a Generalist, possessing no talent and no affinity. Theoretically, seeing a Sigil with such distinct illumination was impossible.

"Fuck it." Abandoning all caution, she thrust herself violently into the stardust.

“Gnnngh—“ Her Astral Body grew incandescent.

Inexplicably, she understood.

It was as though she had always known how to use Evocation, as profoundly as one dextrously employed a limb, balanced on a wall, or caught a ball. The knowledge was instinctual and habitual; it was thinking in cubism.

"Magic Missile!"

The mana conducted splendidly through her body. There was no puzzle, no mystery. Where she had blindly groped for guidance on the open planes of potential, there were now distinct paths she could take, solutions that were self-evident.

Breathless with excitement, she yelped.

As her Magic Missile faded into the distance, a fissure of light swept through her Sigil. Her newly visualised Evocation Sigil tapped into its elementally aligned gate.

Crack!

A flash of lightning danced through the illusory star-field, filling the uncertain space with cobalt-blue and Tyrian-purple.

"Oh my God!" Gwen wailed with affirmation, overcome with relief and joy.

The folks on the train were right!

She was a Quasi-Elementalist!

A Lightning Mage!

She was a sorceress who tapped into the Quasi-elemental Plane between the Plane of Air and Positive Energy.

Why hadn't she Awakened earlier? Why had she been denied? Was it her ignorance? She had stared at the Sigil dumbfounded, not knowing that she had to reach out.

But enough of that. Gwen wanted to laugh, to scream, to cry. Within the Chamber, she punched the air in triumph. Had she finally managed to supersede alter-Gwen’s curse of mediocrity?

When the electricity encircling her body fizzled, Gwen instinctively understood her link to the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning had stabilised. She willed mana into the Sigil, drawing upon a mental image of Yue playing with her Dancing Light, and felt a numbing sensation travelling across her forearm, exiting at her fingertip as a sliver of blue light.

As though alive, her creation hummed and purred, making her question if the thing was sentient or merely a manifestation of her psyche.

Spak!

"Whoa!"

Abruptly, her abstract Elemental zapped out angrily at something hidden just out of sight. Gwen focused her mind's eye, concentrating on the space beyond the glowing stardust. Something was there, its silhouette obfuscated by the brilliance. Curious, she moved past the glimmering, static-charged mass of her Evocation Sigil, then reached out for the slivers of something that seemed to fade in and out of her vision.

“Ouch!” She flinched.

A sudden shudder engendered within her Astral Body, forcing her to withdraw her phantom hand. Back under the light, she discovered tenebrous incisions all over her illusory skin. At the edge of her vision, slivers of black continued to twist and turn, appearing both closer and further away, taunting her.

Gwen thought back to the dream she’d had before. There had been light and there had been dark. If the light was lightning, then what was the dark?

Yin and Yang, light and dark, gods and demons?

She willed her electrical creature to investigate. The sliver of lightning coiled upon itself, then, with a mighty leap, launched itself towards the shadows.

"Dancing Light!" Gwen attempted a second Evocation spell, achieving resounding success.

A sudden radiance dispelled all shadow, revealing the slivers. To Gwen’s eyes, they looked like small dark eels, swimming and fleeing as the ball lightning grew in intensity. As though alive, they cowered in the presence of her electricity, nestling and writhing like slippery slugs.

The aura given off by the creatures was both alien and foreign, uncomfortable to the extreme, inducing an inexplicable vertigo. But if this mysterious thing existed in the Cognisance projection, Gwen reasoned. Then it must also exist within herself.

Beside her, the lightning spark returned from its show of force, resting on her shoulder as it sizzled. She reached out as she had done before, then snatched one of the creatures with her hand. There was that sensation again, that strange shuddering that felt as if space itself had distorted…

In the next moment, Gwen found herself in the real world, no longer in the sensory illusion created by the Cognisance Chamber. She flexed her fingers, disorientated to the extreme, still having no idea what she had discovered.

The door to the chamber opened with a distinct displacement of air.

"That's time,” the admin asked her for her card. When the woman noted the changes inscribed by the chamber’s recording scripts, her eyes widened.

"Congratulations," the woman spoke with a tone of awe, "I shall inform the principal."

Still dazed, Gwen stared at her ID in incomprehension.

Gwen Song

S.I.D. :: 0043598

Evoker Tier :: I

Elemental Affinity :: Quasi Elemental—Lightning (3)

The rest of the card was blank, its space reserved for other achievements.

Holy shit. Gwen's fingers trembled. I am saved.

Here was the watershed moment, the moment the life of the old Gwen ceased to be, the moment fate caught the cliff's edge and pulled her up by the fingernails.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I—

I took the Magic Carpet through…

Thank God she didn't have to trudge through the Wildland woods. Lord knew what lurked in the winding dark: for knowing this world, it was probably Shub-Niggurath.

Caught in a moment of private reverie, she hadn't noticed some sticky-beak students sneaking up behind her so as to mock the object of their ire.

"Gwen Song," someone read out aloud before she could stow her card. "Tier I Evoker…"

Then the reader's voice croaked.

"Well?"

"Come on?"

"What does it say?"

"It says nothing after that, duh."

"…"

The student respectfully took a step back and gave her a look of no hard feelings.

"Tier III. Quasi Lightning!" he announced, biting every syllable.

A few of the students, anticipating sweet nothings from the public announcement, were already laughing. A split-second later, phantom cats caught their tongue.

A dangerous silence reigned.

Gwen slipped her ID into her skirt-pocket, then fled the scene.

Chapter eight

No News Like Bad News

The terrible news of Gwen's “true” talent spread like the thirteenth-century quasi-magical bubonic plague. She quickly left the main building before a mob could pick up enough momentum to start throwing textbooks.

When she finally got to the dorm apartments, Yue and Elvia were already giddy with the good news.

"See? Told you so." Yue beamed with optimism; an infectious grin split from ear to ear.

"Congratulations on discovering your true talent!" Elvia ran into her arms, her small frame twirling about Gwen's neck.

Feeling overwhelmed by fortune's favour, she embraced her two besties, grateful for her dependable companions.

"You'll probably have to see Old Bartlett soon,” Yue advised. "Man, just thinking about your Quasi-Lightning gets my blood boiling—you and me, two powerhouse duos, Elvia at the back healing… we are going to rock that Field Trip."

"Don't count your cockatrices before they hatch. We still need to find a Tank," Elvia lectured them. Unlike Yue, she was not looking forward to live combat. "There's no one good in our year. We’ll have to beg the seniors."

"Abjurers are a dime a dozen." Yue shrugged. "Although we could put you up as a prize and hold a school-wide competition to find the best Abjurer! A day with Elvia; a date with the Golden Princess!"

"Please don’t," Elvia rebuked Yue sternly.

“Hoho, I can see it now! The three of us, piling up a mountain of kills. Maybe we’ll even find a Creature Core or two if we kill enough of them.”

“You mean the five of us?” Gwen interjected sceptically.

“Pufft. it’s just going to be us pulling the weight anyway.” Yue snickered arrogantly. "You know, finding a core on our first adventure would be awesome. We can exchange it. We'll have LDMs for days!"

How lovely to be young. Gwen snickered internally. All Mages dreamt of finding a Creature Core, the fundamental ingredient for crafting Magical Items. The stronger the beast, the denser the core, the higher the danger involved. A few Earthen Goblins were merely fodder, but a Coastal Basilisk could wipe out an entire mining outpost.

"Alright, clear out. Don’t stand in the doorway for Magus’ sake!” The gruff voice of a man announced behind them. It was the caretaker of the Dorm, Iron-Faced Rawson. Though Yue mocked him for his stern and stoic nature, Gwen rather liked the man. Rawson was the sort of person who was the opposite of her father—focused, laconic and useful.

"Got a call from Admin." He turned to the trio. "Gwen Song, the old man wants to see you."

"Thanks, Mr Rawson.”

Rawson nodded back.

"Congratulations,” the caretaker intoned before returning to the interior of the apartment.

"You like that sort of man huh?" Yue's brows wiggled.

"Mr Rawson?" Elvia looked at Gwen with shock. "He's like a dad!"

"That's the point. Hee hee hee," Yue persisted in her dirty hypothesis. “We all know Gwen’s got daddy issues.”

"Good God, you two." Gwen rolled her eyes. She wanted to say bloody immature teenagers, but she was a teen herself. Her body had a mind of its own, even now, for somewhere inside her castle of flesh, the ghost of erstwhile Gwen haunted its halls.

But no - she was not attracted to Rawson. She merely admired the rare bird known as competence.

The principal's office was on the ground floor of the main building. Blackwattle was a simple school with a simple pedigree, and so a simple oaken door opened up to a spacious interior adorned with awards and accolades.

When Gwen entered, she was met with a reassuring smile.

My God, his beard is impeccable, Gwen thought. Not a hair out of place.

"Miss Song, please take a seat and make yourself comfortable. Have a cuppa if you like." The Magus motioned to the table, adorned with a steaming pot of stoutly brewed English Breakfast.

"Thank you, sir." Gwen sat, tilting her long legs to one side and crossing her ankles behind the chair's lip.

“Your progress comes as a great blessing, Miss Song.” Bartlett began. “Barely two months ago, you Awakened only as a Generalist!”

“I wasn't feeling my best sir,” Gwen replied sheepishly.

Principal Bartlett laughed.

“If only matters of Awakening were accountable by moods!” he exclaimed. “I called you here to congratulate you, Miss Song. And to offer an apology.”

The principal's eyes observed the young woman in front of him before continuing.

“Instructor Thomas informed me of your happy accident. That, despite not Awakening in Evocation, he placed you there out of pity."

“I am sure Instructor Thomas had the best of intentions,” she returned, wondering if she could salvage the situation. She was to blame, after all, for both her confused incompetence and her enticement of the instructor to pity her. “When I got home, I tried to do all sorts of experiments. Nothing succeeded, I was truly a Generalist.”

“That may be,” Bartlett raised a hand. “But to think that, but for a moment of pity, he would have recommended you for the Non-Magical stream.”

Yeah, that would have been catastrophic, Gwen concurred.

“I understand,” she replied carefully. “I still don’t blame Instructor Thomas, though.”

“A warning, then. You are too kind.” Bartlett waved a hand through the air. “If we had a Diviner, perhaps this could have been averted, but alas.”

Gwen nodded demurely, playing the unworldly school girl.

“How is your training fairing?” The principal pivoted toward a more discerning topic.

“I’ve only really awakened to the Sigil this morning,” Gwen answered honestly. “I don't think I have had an opportunity to test the extent of my abilities.”

“Are you able to manifest?”

“Yes, sir.” Gwen hoped that she wasn't overextending her luck, a performance failure now of all times would be catastrophic.

“Would you mind giving a demonstration?” Bartlett asked.

Gwen swallowed discreetly. “I’ll try my best, sir.”

The two of them left their seats and stood in the middle of the spacious office.

Gwen turned her mind inwards and invoked the Evocation Sigil. Having experienced its invocation in the Cognisance Chamber, she could now envision it perfectly, feeling the mana flow through her Astral Form, shift into Lightning, then flood her conduits.

"Lightning Grasp!" she incanted, a spell that was a cousin to Flaming Hands; Yue’s favourite. She felt a jolt of electricity travel across her forearm, then the collated energy of her arcane phenomena manifested.

With a muffled crash, a coil of blue-white lightning crackled around her hand, creating the element’s distinct chitter. Ozone filled the air as static electricity flooded the surrounding space, stiffening strands of her hair and Principal Bartlett’s beard.

“Beautiful,” the old Magus exclaimed.

“It’s hard to control sir,” Gwen confessed, her face beginning to sweat. It was her first time, and her spell furiously sought to discharge. The sensation was akin to wrangling a thrashing weasel, any more and it was going to take off her fingers.

Magus Bartlett drew an Abjuration Sigil in the air. A shield shimmered around the Magus silently. Transmuters and Abjurers could shape their shields, but other Schools of Mages tended to favour semi-circle domes.

“Strike my shield,” Bartlett invited Gwen. “Let us see the efficacy of your affinity.”

Gwen did not doubt for a second that the Magus thought little of her mere tier I spell. She extended her hand and touched the shimmering, near-opaque shield.

With a resounding crack, the electricity dissipated, deforming it for a fraction of a second before the membrane returned to its original shape.

“Impressive. Truly wonderful!” Magus Bartlett exclaimed happily. “Lightning is the lovechild of Evocation; its penetrative impact power is far stronger than that of Fire, Earth or Water!”

With the spell fizzling after its expenditure, Gwen regained control of her hand. Her head felt a little woozy from the effort.

“Your affinity is exceptional,” Bartlett announced after a moment of thought. “I could feel the free nature of the Lightning element flowing strongly through your conduits. Well done, Miss Song."

As he spoke, Gwen noted a strange discolouration in the principal’s eyes. She recognised it as Detect Magic; there was a picture of it in her textbooks. The Divination staple was useful for detecting magical events. Watching the principal switch between schools and spells, she realised just how far she had to go.

“That was your first time?”

Gwen felt her face aglow with embarrassment, unsure whether she performed well or poorly. Was her manifestation unclean or crudely managed? A clumsy spell was as dangerous to herself as it was to others.

“Yessir," she confessed.

“Then I must acknowledge your talent, but also admonish your rashness,” the principal intoned with sagacity. “It is good to be ambitious, Gwen, but know your limits.”

Gwen bowed her head, staying in character.

“I will have your LDM allowance upgraded to the same level as Miss Bai and Miss Lindholm,” The Magus added kindly. “I anticipate great things from you at the next examination.”

“I won't disappoint you, sir,” Gwen replied, her eyes sparkling as she met the principal's demanding gaze head-on, switching from humility to braggadocio.

"Very good. Dismissed."

Gwen closed the door behind her.

Yue and Elvia met her outside the administration building.

“How did it go?”

Gwen gave her companion a “V” for victory.

“On par with Yue,” She laughed at her pun.

The girls uttered a unified hip hip hooray, drawing curious glances from juniors and seniors alike.

Things are finally looking up! Gwen mused happily. To think that only two months ago, she had been molested and robbed and was about to live a life of unfulfilled regret. In two days, she would receive her cache LDMs, and then her training could begin in earnest!

Within the week, Gwen’s new practice settled into a routine.

Gathered on the lower oval's practice range, she and Yue lit up the field with their Evocation incantations. Though many of her peers denied their budding admiration, the crowds that gathered whenever the duo practised suggested otherwise.

Exercising until she was out of Mana, Gwen recovered by cradling an LDM shard. Within a quarter of an hour, she was topped up and ready for another round.

With a growing stockpile of crystals at their disposal, the girls’ training went swimmingly. Each day, when others had gone back to their dorms to study theory, Gwen, Yue, and a few talented others remained until sundown. The repetition meant that they built up a tolerance to mana drain, increasing both their mana pool and mental stamina. Gwen's meals were also significantly improved, consisting mainly of Quasi-magical Beasts harvested and delivered to the school's cafeteria.

As classes came and went, Gwen's night and days began to blend. Her practice often became so exhaustive that she lost track of time. These moments she dubbed “the zone”, feeling a curious Zen as condensed from the LDMs infused her body.

Down range, as blasts of flame and flashes of cobalt lightning tore at the ground, an observing crowd cheered. They were there to observe the “dynamic duo”, as Yue had come to call themselves. With the girls’ Elemental Affinity, they could fire off four spells to the others’ three, becoming a desirous spectacle for their peers.

The passing grade for participation in the field trial was the demonstration of the ability to produce ten consecutive phenomena, and then a defensive spell, graded for damage, complexity and defence.

To reach that goal, micro-management of mana was drilled daily into the students by stern instructors. With each bout of exhaustion, the students alternated between rest and casting, optimising spell cycling.

"Flame Missiles!"

Yue was radiant as always, perspiring with youthful exuberance. As a Fire Mage, her body slowly attuned to the element, becoming resistant to heat and cold. By the same measure, her constitution grew increasingly hostile to water-based Enchantments and body-buffs.

The crowd roared as darts of fire leapt from Yue's finger to envelop a conjured practice dummy, turning the effigy into smouldering chunks.

Satisfied, Yue turned to observe Gwen, only to see her friend gesticulate wildly at the field like a madwoman flinging invisible cats.

"Hahaha!" Yue couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Hilarity aside, Gwen's bolts made quick work of the dummies as well.

For their audience, the difference between the girls’ Elements served as visual instruction.

Yue's AoE was far more impressive but had travel time and was subject to line-of-sight.

Gwen’s Lightning spells appeared from thin air, materialising from above the target, striking almost instantaneously. This difference in manifestation was why Lightning was so dominant in both duels and Monster hunting. However, as a trade-off, Gwen's spells were localised and exceedingly difficult to aim.

“Spatial casting is much harder than it looks,” Gwen complained cattily, wiping herself down with a towel. “How do you find your projectile magic?”

“Line barrages are fine,” Yue admitted. “But the whole parabola thing is giving me a headache.”

After practice, the two became surrounded by juniors, more so favouring Yue than Gwen, who had a reputation as the illegitimate daughter of an underworld mob boss.

“Can I get you a bottle of water?” someone asked eagerly.

“Two.” Yue was shameless.

“Alright!” A boy ran off happily.

Gwen gaze at Yue with judgemental eyes.

“Hey,” Yue sniggered, “I only exploit those who are willing.”

Gwen shook her head.

“When's Elvia finishing?”

Elvia wasn't with the girls. The healer undertook specialised training in mundane Medical Triage as well as magical healing. The school couldn't find an instructor willing to teach just one student, so Elvia's family had provided their own. She was now presided over by her uncle, a senior Cleric.

When the two returned to the dorms, each holding a gift of chilled mineral water, they were greeted by a jubilant Elvia.

"Sup." Yue glanced at the clock. "Elvia, you had dinner yet?"

The blonde girl shook her head.

"That's what I like to hear." Yue grinned expansively. "We're heading to my place. My mum made dumplings!"

Elvia blinked.

"You know." Yue made a shape with her hand. "Wontons? Jiaozi?"

Elvia shook her flaxen head.

Yue caught the tiny girl by the shoulder.

"Alright, mate." She grinned. "You're in for a treat!”

Gwen recalled that Yue’s house was in the suburban sector of Forestville, roughly thirty minutes away from Blackwattle via public transport. Where Gwen's apartment was nestled in a forest of concrete habitat blocks, Yue's two-bedroom abode was caught between two six-storey flats, reminding Gwen of the house from UP.

"Here we are!" Yue opened the groaning gate.

The girls stood on the dying grass of Yue's front lawn, taking in the rusty scent of heavy industry that permeated the suburb. Only two streets away, the housing gave way to an industrial zone filled with warehouses. Before the flats had gone up, Yue’s house had enjoyed the sun. Now it rested permanently in shadow.

Even here, developers are a plague. Gwen mulled. Somethings never change.

"Bai Yue, welcome home!"

"Good evening, Mrs Bai." Gwen bowed.

Flustered, Elvia quickly bowed as well, sending a cascade of blonde strands flowing over her shoulders.

"Oh," Yue's mother made an “O” with her lips. "Who is this?"

"I am Elvia Lindholm." Elvia curtseyed.

Yue's mother audibly gasped.

"She's my healer friend," Yue interjected helpfully. "The one I've been telling you all about."

Elvia looked up with her big blue eyes.

"HOW WONDERFUL!" Yue's mother gushed, drunk on Elvia's adorable presence. "COME IN! COME IN!"

The girls entered.

Gwen had always envied Yue's home in this world or the last.

Though cramped and narrow, it was lived-in and homey. The corridor leading to the living room was filled with Lumen-pics, decorating the walls eclectically. The living room was plushly carpeted, possessing an old fireplace in front of which Mr Bai had read picture books to a young Gwen and Yue.

Beside the modest living space was a cramped kitchen-dining combo; a domain entirely strange to Gwen, whose father rarely if ever cooked, and whose personal culinary expertise consisted only of instant ramen and Spam. Had Forrestville not been such a mecca for street food, Gwen and Percy would have grown into the teenagehood knowing just toast and Vegemite; a cheap but potent form of quasi-magical compost.

Gingerly, Mrs Bai settled the girls around the dining table, a beaten old thing accompanied by only three seats.

"Food's almost ready. You girls must be hungry."

Gwen and Elvia watched as Yue's NoM mother appeared as if she possessed multiple sets of limbs, chopping, frying, stirring, mixing and plating all at once while multiple pots bubbled on the stove.

Mrs Bai returned a few minutes later with a steaming heap of pork and cabbage Jaozi.

"I made it with Wildland pork," Yue's mother stated proudly. "It's a rare treat. Eat up!"

Yue mixed the dipping sauces for her two friends while Elvia struggled with her chopsticks.

"Like this." Gwen demonstrated with one hand. "The index finger and the middle finger should be pressing against the moving stick, while the stationary stick rests against the phalanx."

Elvia was quick on the uptake.

"Mum, are you eating?" Yue asked her mother.

"Go ahead." Yue's mother smiled sweetly. "I'll wait for your father. He likes ’em fresh."

Eager and curious, Elvia gingerly picked up a dumpling, dipped it into the sauce Yue had prepared, then placed it into her mouth.

"!!!"

Her ocean-blue orbs grew large. Pain, pleasure, scalding meat-soup, spicy and savouriness struck her tongue at once.

"Evee!" Gwen gasped. "It's HOT! There's soup inside! Oh my God, Yue, you didn't tell her?"

Yue popped a boiling dumpling into her mouth. "It's fine to me."

"You're a tier IV Fire Mage,” Gwen chided her friend. "We don't have heat resistance!"

"Oh?" Yue touched her lips. Looking at Elvia, she realised her friend was in genuine pain. "Shit. Sorry, Evee. I'll get you some water."

Having caught the commotion, Yue's mother returned with a glass of cold water.

Elvia waved the cup away.

"Hwealing Tooch!" she announced, wincing as she incanted the Clerical cantrip. "Oh Lord, my goodness."

"Are you alright?" Gwen asked worriedly. Yue's mother trembled by the bench, not knowing if she should apologise or disappear.

"Delicious!" Elvia beamed, surprising all of them. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, I am no ma'am. Haha." Yue's mother squirmed.

Yue's cloudy mien lightened. She had thought Elvia would leave.

Gwen caught the sparkle in Elvia's eyes and marvelled at the girl's emotional intelligence. It wasn't often that someone could overcome their agony, especially when it was dealt from the ignorance of another. She felt happy to be proven right—Elvia was beyond precious! She was an angel inside and out.

"It is delicious, isn't it?!" Gwen joined in. "Break it apart first and let the steam and the soup out."

"It's SO GOOD," Elvia beamed at Yue's mother. The poor woman had been sweating buckets when the healer had teared up. As a NoM, she had an innate fear of Mages that was difficult to dispel even after a decade in Sydney.

"I've got others flavours too," Mrs Bai uttered jubilantly. "Just you wait, I've got prawn dumplings made with Wildland chives!"

"My favourite," Gwen hailed the prospect of chive-dumplings, though not its room-clearing farts.

Yue raised a glass of water.

Gwen met her halfway.

Elvia fumbled for a cup.

"To dumplings!"

"To Mrs Bai!"

"To us!"

"Cheers!"

The asymmetrical collection of glasses clinked, joining the sound of clattering chopsticks, hissing steam, and the trilling laughter of women.

Chapter nine

A Team

Spring ended with November, then summer came on with its stifling heat.

Fair-skinned and petite, Elvia wilted like a rare white flower. Gwen, likewise, melted in a most unladylike manner, legs akimbo, a spaghetti-string singlet loosely hung over one shoulder, its sheer cotton stuck to her stomach like wet rice paper.

I must have died and this is hell, Gwen moped. What kind of magical world lacked air conditioning? She hadn't experienced an Aussie summer without air-con since she’d left home at sixteen. Even the youth hostel had central air.

Beside the sweltering Gwen, Yue was as cool as a cucumber; her affinity for Fire meant she naturally regulated heat in her body. Gwen's bodacious companion wore the same singlet, though her one hung on for dear life.

“How come?” Yue observed at her friend. “How come we both bought small and your one fits?”

“Humblebrag?” Gwen moaned, too tired to return a volley.

“Funbags,” Elvia added an acute observation.

“What have you been teaching her?” Gwen wailed. “My innocent Evee is despoiled!”

“They grow up so fast.” Yue sobbed. “Just the other day she was making eyes at a boy.”

“I was not!” Elvia protested.

“No no!” Gwen wailed. "Evee is mine! For now and forever!"

The girls fell about in laughter, making the room hotter.

Knock-knock.

“Ahem!”

A cough came from the doorway; the door opened just a peep.

"I er… knocked, but you all appeared to be preoccupied," mumbled a voice from the hallway.

Gwen grabbed the closest linen, though she was too tall for the meagre fabric. Beside her, Elvia dived for her bed, throwing a silken shaw over her cut-off shorts.

"Oh yeah." Yue seemed to recall something. "I invited a cooling Glyph."

The door opened. A young man about the girls' age entered nervously.

"I am not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Thank the Magus you are here." Yue bounced up to greet their guest.

Their guest entered, averting his eyes. On his right, Gwen looked defensive and hostile. To his left, Elvia hissed like a cat. Trapped, their intruder found great interest in the lighting fixture.

"Ladies," Yue placed her hands together. “This is Jun; a wonderful young man whom I have recruited to our cause."

"Jun, do the thing.”

The girls stabbed Jun with their eyes.

"Excuse me," he muttered, making the circular Sigil of the school of Abjuration.

A sound of crinkling filled the air, then the temperature plummeted. A thin sheet of ice formed in the air around Jun before coalescing into a semi-dome ball of frost.

Yue flourish with a bow, twirling her off-hand floridly. "Tada!"

The heat in the room dissipated and a cool breeze began to circulate. Gwen felt as though she was in one of those improbable air conditioning commercials where hot and bothered women made moon-eyes at Mitsubishi split-air systems.

Yue patted the cushion of the two-seat couch in a come-hither manner. "Sit."

Hawkishly, the trio watched as Jun sat on the edge of the couch, scratching his nose nervously. Elvia's blue eyes peeked out from behind her pillow. Gwen straightened her singlet before shaking Jun's hand.

"Jun."

"Gwen."

“Elvia.”

"Hi."

Silence reigned.

“So, as you know,” Yue broke the ice, “we have our Field Trip soon. I figured we should pick the good fruit before they’re gone, that sort of thing. I asked around for the best Abjurer in our curriculum, and now we have him. Applause, ladies!”

The girls golf clapped.

“Ahem, thank you. It's good to be here.”

Jun’s eyes scanned the room, falling towards his enviable audience.

“As Yue stated, I am a Quasi-Elemental Mage like you, Gwen,” Jun began. “We Ice Mages tap into the space between the Air and Water elements.”

Gwen nodded.

“Few elements are as stable as Ice,” Jun continued with a hint of pride. “We can create Shields and walls that are both transparent and hardy, especially with Abjuration. Whereas Lightning is the most volatile, but a real showstopper. Perfect for Evocation.”

“Does us sharing the Air element mean anything?” Gwen enquired. "Synergy, for example."

“Unfortunately, no,” Jun replied with a wave of his hand. “At least, not that I know of. Lightning doesn't interact well with anything. A Water Mage and I could synergise something impregnable, but I doubt Fire, Air or Water could do anything for you. In fact, I am fairly sure Earthen Mages counter Lightning.”

I bet water could conduct Lightning, Gwen mused, some of the potential energy may be lost, but it should be feasible.

Watching Jun and Gwen converse, Yue nudged Elvia. Gwen turned to see Yue wiggling her brows at her. Rolling her eyes, she threw a towel at her overimaginative friend.

“Sorry, they're just kids. Look Jun, I think it's pretty obvious that we're all inexperienced. It's going to be our first time. Can you lend us a hand?"

Yue's expressive brows once again came to life.

Elvia's face glowed a hot pink.

Admirably, Gwen's expressions flew over Jun's head. "What do you want to know?"

"What's our role in an Adventuring Party?" Gwen enquired. "I mean, how does it work? We've never Adventured before."

"Okay." Jun took a moment to begin. "Essentially, a perfect party has five members, each with unique roles. The Scout is typically an Air Mage with Transmutation. The Defender is an Abjurer, typically Earth-attuned. The Damage Dealers are usually Conjurers, Evokers or Transmuters. And Utility is taken up by Diviners, Enchanters or an Illusionist. In the best case scenario, the Utility is a Healer who can Buff, Heal and Dispel."

“How would the setup work with us four?”

“Good question." Jun scratched his nose again. "I believe we have excellent synergy. Fire Evokers can inflict widespread damage over a huge area. Lightning Evokers have instant pinpoint damage. Both are extremely accomplished between tier I and III, with the firepower of, say, multiple Air or Earthen Acolytes. I am pretty confident myself as a Tank, and with my affinity, I could stand in for two basic level Abjurers at the very least. As an Abjurer, I can instantly create hard Shields mid-air; good for blocking both physical and elemental attacks. If we have access to a water source, I can even manage shield walls.”

Their speaker swallowed.

"For our team, I'd say the game-changer is Elvia. With a healer, we can ramp up our hunting speed immensely, even if we are a little reckless. Having a Cleric makes the 'survival' aspect of the field trip rather trivial."

“Ah.” Gwen nodded affirmatively. Elvia; of course. Theirs would be the only team with a Healer in the entire school. How could they lose a survival competition if they could negate the inconvenience of inevitable injury?

"That's all fine and dandy, but Yue did advise you that we're just a few months into our training, right?” Gwen asked dubiously. "I doubt we can chain more than a dozen spells at the moment. Not to mention that Elvia isn't yet certified, are you, Evee?"

"I need to pass an examination first.” Elvia shook her head.

“There's still two months left,” Jun proclaimed confidently. “Not a problem with your talent and resources.”

"What can you tell us about the Field Trip itself?" Gwen continued.

"Well, it takes place near the Royal National Park, deep down the coastal area. The area south of it was never really reclaimed, just 'cleansed' a few times. It's now infested with low-level creepers."

"Horned Rabbits and angry Wombats?" Gwen thought about her Magical Creatures classes with its absurdly thick Monster manual.

"A little more advanced than that, I hope!" Jun jovially quipped. "We're talking more the garden variety of sentient magical beings, like Goblins."

"Goblins." Gwen still couldn't believe there were Goblins in this world. The critters were not the green-skins of yore, though, but humanoid creatures gifted with animation by the magical residue of the Wildlands. The Bestiary stated that when enough elemental essence coalesced in an area, it attracted spirits sensitive to that element and gave them material form.

To Gwen’s knowledge, “Goblins” referred explicitly to the malignant little creatures that formed where Earth and Fire elements were particularly strong. Sequentially, Lesser Goblins or Snotlings, were mindless animals that scavenged for food, while a Goblin could take down a grown man with its claws and teeth. Ultimately an infestation of Goblins generated Hobs, a human-sized, flesh-eating Goblin of immense cunning.

"Have you ever seen a Goblin before?" Gwen asked.

“Seen ’em and killed dozens." Jun's eyes clouded over with remembrance. "It was when we got to one of the outposts down near Wollongong. The little buggers had overrun a mining camp and were busy trying to get to the workers in their Construction-Golems."

"What happened?"

"Well, the workers were there to dig up crystals. Unfortunately, they struck a warren. When the Golems came through, they broke into the tribe's main chamber, and the Gobs came flooding out like hornets."

"When my party finally got there, the critters had already murdered a few of the workers. The rest locked themselves up in their Construction Golems, waiting for rescue. If you want to know what they look like, the ones we saw were different. They had these little horns they used for head-butting and carried these nasty obsidian clubs. They could even walk on walls, like spiders."

"That's disgusting." Elvia gulped.

The trio sat around the Abjurer, hugging their knees to their chests, hanging onto every word.

"So…" Gwen wanted to hear the important parts. "How did you kill them?"

"We had a fire Evoker with us, but the Gobs were resistant to fire, so our Air Mage and I had to double duty. He used Gust spells to slam them onto the walls, and I froze them in place with Creeping Frost and my Shields. The Water Transmuter ended up performing most of the defence because the Goblins had a tough time getting their small bodies through the Water Barrier."

Gwen leant in closer, a dozen questions dancing on the tip of her tongue.

“So finally, we popped the warren, and there were hundreds of the little buggers running around trying to get through the Shield. The fire Mage ended up throwing half a dozen Fire Balls at the cavern until it collapsed on the whole chamber, sealing the shaft.”

Gwen considered the information she had just received and knew that there was something she had to ask, something she had never done.

"How does it feel to kill something?" She enquired carefully.

Jun visibly struggled to describe the strange, sickening feeling of taking life.

Opposite, Gwen imagined the sounds the Goblins made as the ice crawled up their spine, the crunch as their scaly-skin broke, the screaming and the yelping as their yellow blood boiled.

"It will be hard at first," he replied finally. "The 'being' you are attacking had been alive, and now it's dead. I could describe the ichor and the smell, but it's something you have to experience yourself."

"The animals are not so bad — but Demi-humanoid Magical Creatures will test you. Some of them get pretty lifelike. The biggest thing I saw was a Hob; watching it get cut down by a barrage of Magic Missiles was no different from seeing a man die.”

Jun's voice trailed off. Only the sound of soft breathing and perspiration transpired through the dorm room.

Bung!

With a pop, Jun's ball of frost collapsed. The room once again felt stifling.

“I hope we can work well together,” Jun announced seriously.

“Yeah,” Gwen agreed. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Thank you,” added Elvia, her complexion paler for the wisdom.

“Well, there's still the summer break, then a couple of weeks until your exams." Jun pushed up his spectacles and grinned at the girls. "I haven't agreed to anything other than that I'll wait. You need to show me that my trust is well-founded."

"Alright," Yue announced excitedly. "I am pumped! We're gonna rock that test!"

Suddenly, she leant in aggressively. "Jun, you're not going to join another team, right?” The crude manner of her strategic presentation made Gwen vomit a little in her mouth. "Promise?"

"Of-of course," Jun stammered. Gwen wondered if his glasses would fog up, but then again, an ice Mage naturally had a lowered body temperature.

Jun escaped before Yue could push him to make another promise. Where Yue was extroverted, Jun was passive and humble.

Fire and ice, Gwen mused. Was there a correlation there?

Gwen consulted a mental Astral chart to recall what her oppositional element was and found it to be the Quasi-elemental Plane of Dust, consisting of nothing but death and the erosion of time and space. What kind of Mage would that be? Who could even awaken to such a thing? She shuddered, imagining a grey old man with a constant air of apathy, dandruff falling like fallout about his head.

When the door finally closed, Yue turned to her companions. "That was embarrassing," Yue confessed.

So you do feel embarrassment. Gwen patted her friend on the head. "Well done!"

"Would you expect anything less?" Yue raised a mischievous brow, assuming a hands-on-hip power pose, expecting praise for her negotiations.

"Arrr, I am so jealous!" Elvia blurted. "What are you eating?"

"Well, there is a secret…" Yue sauntered closer to the unsuspecting Elvia before hugging her tightly.

"Hot! Hot! Hot! It's TOO HOT, Yue!" Elvia moaned. "How can your body temp be so high? I am dying!"

"Feels alright to me." Yue giggled mischievously.

Gwen felt the ambient temperature soar. The air-conditioned hour they’d shared with Jun felt so far away. "You sure that your family can't just install air or water-based conditioning Glyphs here?"

“Nup." Elvia moped sadly, feeling sweat pouring from her ivory skin after Yue's heated assault. "Rawson said that the building is Warded. We're not allowed to install foreign Enchantments."

"Gah, get away from me, woman!" Gwen yelped as Yue snuck towards her, hoping to spread more misery.

In the end, it was too hot to even move. Gwen sat on the wooden desk, sweating into the grain. Elvia laid on her bed like a corpse.

"I touched a dead body the other day," Elvia declared suddenly.

Both Yue and Gwen froze.

"At the clinic," Elvia corrected herself, just in case the girls thought she was responsible for the cadaver. "A worker was attacked. He succumbed to his injuries. My uncle got me to sit in on the autopsy."

The other two girls listened quietly, the subject efficiently chilling the room.

"I watched Uncle go through the… organs and he took them out and showed them to me one by one. There was so much of it—the heart, the lungs, the liver…"

"The man had been alive only hours before, but now he was dead and being taken apart for studies. I wanted to vomit, but Uncle said that I had to see this sooner or later because no matter how good a Mage can be, there will come a day…"

A song of cicadas vibrated the humid air.

"I want to be the one to heal you if that ever happens," Elvia intoned solemnly. "I'll never let either of you die!"

"And we'll protect you too, always," Yue solemnly declared.

"Aye," Gwen concurred, her eyes welling with moistness.

There was nothing else to be said.

Chapter ten

A Moment of Truth

Putt! Putt! Putt!

The training dummy split in twain with a resounding crack as several stone-tipped Magic Missiles cracked its wooden surface, sending up a cloud of fragments.

The area around the dummy then shimmered. A mana Shield made opaque by dust, rock and assorted sediments materialised.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

The mana shield remained immovable as the missile shattered against it, but a section of it became chipped where a projectile had struck, penetrating some of its exterior and sending spiralling shards to bounce off its interior.

"B,” the first instructor announced.

“C.”

“B," said the third. "Would you like another attempt?"

"No sir, I believe this is my current limit," the earthen Abjurer announced sadly. He had already surpassed the expectant ten consecutive incantations but could do nothing more about the lacklustre power. That was a problem of both School and affinity.

"Very well, you may go."

The exam took place, much to Gwen's dismay, in public and before the assembly of Spellcraft students deemed eligible for the field trip. There were at least a hundred cohorts gathered. Gwen sighed. It wasn't so much that she resented presentations or speeches—she loved those—she simply disliked being judged for the sake of being judged.

Half the day soon passed and half the students remained, awaiting the drawing of their lots. So far, neither Gwen or Yue had been called. Yue suspected with a confident smirk that the other students were just the opening act and that the inspectors were saving the best for last.

Though Gwen was sceptical, she could see that the hypothesis had some merit. None of the other students with highly-attuned affinity had presented themselves yet.

They watched as an Air Mage cut down half a dozen dummies, marvelling at the speed of her smooth, acrobatic movements through the obstacle course. Each element had their distinct advantages; the Air Mage's defence proved woeful, her mana Shield barely holding against two of the instructor's missiles.

Then a familiar face appeared. Debora, Gwen's old childhood friend who had bickered with them on the day of the Awakening, took to the stage. Since their spiteful rendezvous, Gwen had kept herself from Debora's presence.

She had grown taller somehow, more alluring; her signature long legs appeared more muscular and sculpted than before. Gwen knew that Earthen Mages possessed exceptional stamina, constitution and strength. Those with high affinity eventually possessed rock-solid, chiselled bodies akin to marble statues. Up top, Debora's mass of hair was bundled up into a knotted ponytail, giving her the air of a track athlete. Cries of audacious exhalation went up from the crowd as she entered. Though she had always been a queen-bee type as a junior, she worked hard as well. During their training, Gwen and Yue had heard nothing but praise for the “genius” of Class 3 from the instructors.

"Catapult!"

Debora began with a classic, offensive Transmutation spell, launching a fifty-odd kilogram projectile in the shape of a spiked ball towards the target. “Catapult” was the Transmuter's version of Magic Missile. There was no auto-guidance, but the spell packed a far stronger wallop.

Debora's wrecking ball arched gracefully through the air, meeting the wooden dummy in violent matrimony. The mannequin shattered spectacularly, sending up a spray of splinters. The stone rolled on for another dozen metres, taking out several back-up dummies.

"Catapult! Catapult! Catapult!" she incanted in quick succession, and a barrage of boulders devastated the field.

The crowd cheered and clapped. Debora wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"I think she's at least tier III affinity now," an instructor observed. "Wonderfully smooth mana conversion, almost no lag or wasted time."

"I concur." Gwen heard another instructor speak before feeling an acidic twang.

Debora then walked into the field. As she sauntered, her skin turned a deep bronze, becoming coarse and rigid.

Bronze Skin? Bark Skin? That was a tier II Transmutation spell! Gwen blinked. Were they doing Tier II spells already?

"Are you certain about this?" an instructor asked.

"Yessir, you have my consent," Debora replied, smiling bravely. “Though not my hair, sir. I will have it styled more appropriately for the field trip."

The instructors nodded as one, then began.

A barrage of three missiles flew towards Debora and struck her on the chest, the arm and the leg. She barely flinched as a few motes of stones fell. Her Earthen armour remained impenetrable.

"Very good," one of the instructors announced. More barrages followed. It was only on the tenth strike that a chunk of the armour chipped off and Debora fell to one knee.

She walked back towards the demonstration platform, dramatically turning to unleash one more spell. "Stone Blast!"

A simmering glow appeared beneath a dummy before the pavement suddenly sprouted half a dozen spikes, piercing blonde wood and sending the torso flying a good ten metres.

Another Tier II Transmutation spell! Gwen's delicate brows knitted apprehensively. Debora was kicking ass.

"Debora sure is special," someone behind Gwen remarked appreciatively.

"A.”

“A.”

“S." The grading was unanimous.

“S” stood for supersede—an achievement beyond what could be measured by the senior performance metric. The first mark was for effective damage. The second was for speed and or stamina. The third was for defence and utility.

"Geez, first high distinction and we're sixty people down already!"

Gwen saw Debora turn to look through the crowd. She felt Yue tense beside her.

From across the assembly, their eyes locked.

You think you have talent? What I have is what hard work gets you, Debora's eyes seemed to taunt them. I am every bit as good as you think you are.

"I am going to enjoy this," Yue spat beside Gwen. "Looks like Debbie needs a good spanking."

Gwen felt caught between two colliding forces. She felt respect for Debora. After all, had Debora been a company colleague, she would have felt nothing but praise for someone so driven and dedicated to her craft.

But Yue was never one to leave a slight unmolested.

A few more students came and went.

“You’re going to show them that already?” Gwen whispered, watching Yue rub her hands together.

"Her holier-than-thou purist attitude pisses me off," Yue snarled, baring her teeth. “Watch me rock her world. I wonder what she'll think after she gets her ass ripped by an Asian half-NoM."

"Yue Bai. Number 14002. Yue Bai."

"I am up!" Yue's presence drew envious glances and wanton stares. "See you on the other side."

"Miss Bai." The instructor nodded when Yue made her way up the platform to the sound of applause. Gwen could swear that the crowd was chanting “Yue! Yue! Yue!”

"I am ready." Yue turned to the field and watched the dummies conjured into place. "I shall begin— Firebolt!"

A dazzling arc of fire flew through the air like a falling star and struck the dummy. The force of it splintered the wood cinematically before engulfing the target in an explosion that left nothing but a smoking stump.

The crowd collectively took in a breath.

That was a Tier I spell? How did she make Magic Missile explode? Were there two stages to the Evocation spell?

"Astounding display, Miss Bai." The instructor's praise was full of approval. "To think you could place an unstable mote within the frame of the missile particle.”

"Yessir, but the missile is no longer self-guiding," Yue answered honestly. That was beyond the girls' knowledge of rudimentary Spellcraft.

"A distance to go before you perfect it, then. Do you intend to craft a Signature spell?"

A Signature Spell implied magic unique to a Mage and was not taught in the general curriculum. Creating unique incantations was the hallmark of a skilled caster and almost all the noted sorcerers had their unique incantations.

"Yessir."

"I would advise patience then," the instructor advised warmly. "There are far more resources when you arrive at university and have access to senior instructors who are more attuned to elemental Fire."

"Thank you, sir."

“You may continue.”

Yue gathered her wits once again. The air around her became scorchingly hot. “Barrage!”

With a burst of fiery mana, she conjured a dozen fire bolts, firing away at different angles in a vertical arc.

A line of explosions shook the field, sending dummies flying every way, cutting a deep channel in the splintered bedrock. The pyrotechnic fireworks shook the ground and forced students to conjure Mana Shields to intercept the flying debris.

“By the Magi!”

“Holy hell!” someone screamed over the cacophony.

“Are we really in a high school division?”

The air cleared. All the dummies were gone.

“Incredible,” an instructor marvelled.

“Indeed, marvellous,” another concurred.

Despite their high praise, the instructors still offered essential criticisms. Her incomplete signature spell took too much mana, it lacked focus each explosion was inconsistent, and so on.

“Are you able to continue?” the third enquired.

“Yes,” Yue's chest rose and fell. “One last spell.”

Yue invoked her Mana Shield. “Blast Shield!”

Fire Mages had offensive shields that worked wonders on melee opponents but had severe limitations against ranged attacks. As Yue manifested, a shimmering, glowing Shield surrounded her in a half-dome.

“Another Signature Spell!”

Three missiles shrieked towards her. As the projectiles struck the Fire Mage's Shield, a volatile reaction spat forth gouts of orange flame.

The first missile exploded.

The second skimmed the Shield.

The third, however, penetrated her shield and struck Yue on the shoulder. The force of the impact drove her toward the ground.

“Yue!” Gwen cried out.

“I am fine.” Yue waved back, nursing her collarbone.

“Looks like that modified spell still needs work,” one of the instructors commented.

“Yessir,” Yue admitted. “It's far from ready.”

“Good concept, though, if you can somehow accelerate your reaction.”

“Indeed.”

“I believe there's a Magus at the Sydney Tower who has designed a similar spell. Perhaps, if you are interested, I can ask the faculty to put you in contact.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I'll be honest with you.” Another instructor's criticism was sterner. “You are wasting too much time on creating these spells, Yue. Basics forms core of Spellcrafting, and you need to have a solid foundation before venturing into new things. These spells are as dangerous for your enemies as your allies if you cannot control them. My recommendation is to forgo these fancies, at least for now.”

Yue nodded solemnly.

“After the Field Fest,” the instructor added. “You will have team and survival training. Please focus on that to the best of your abilities. No distractions.”

“Yessir, I'll try my best,” Yue answered seriously,

“S.”

“S.”

“B.”

The Fire element was a naturally offensive element, though Yue’s attempt at innovation by using offence to offset defence was commendable.

Yue returned to Gwen surrounded by the cheers of their peers. Not, however, before she found Debora in the crowd and gave her the bird.

“You had me worried when that missile went through.” Gwen took her friend by the shoulder and gave her arm a soft prod.

"Eee yarh!” Yue hissed. “Yep, it's gonna swell for sure.”

"If only Elvia were here," Gwen lamented.

"She's got a whole other thing going. Much more difficult than us grunts, ha!"

A dozen more students had their turns, some failing, some succeeding, but none matched the rating given to Debora and Yue.

Gwen awaited her turn with bated breath.

Eventually, it came. "Gwen Song. Number 14026."

The gathered assembly had no cheers nor applause for Gwen. She reached the platform and met the benevolent gaze of the three instructors.

"We have heard good things from Principle Bartlett," one of them spoke benevolently. "It is rare to see a Quasi-Elementalist in action, and an offensive caster at that."

An array of target dummies moved into position.

Deep breath. Focus. Do it like you always do, Gwen assured herself.

She turned to face her wooden opponents and tapped into the Sigil, sensing it burst into brilliance within her mind. She pointed rather flamboyantly towards one of the wooden figures and spoke the incantation that she had practised a thousand times before.

“Blast Bolt!"

The smell of hot ozone filled the air, mixing with the unstable Positive Energy. A shunt of electricity split the air.

Crack!

A flash filled the field with light and sound.

Lightning! The crowd gasped. The power of the gods themselves! The purest form of absolute destruction.

A cloud of dust rose into the air, obscuring all sight.

“Who could survive the power of Zeus himself?” the crowd cooed.

The moment of awe passed.

The dust settled.

The assembly stared dumbfounded at an intact dummy.

The faceless dummy stared at Gwen, dumbfounded.

She’d missed. Gwen Song had missed the target.

Oh. My. God. Gwen's mind turned as brilliantly white as her bolt of plasma.

I MISSED THE FUCKING TARGET! she screamed internally.

"Did she miss?" someone asked.

Some people began to laugh out loud.

"She missed the dummy!"

"Oh my God, this is too good!"

"I knew she was just a vase!"

Mocking laughter spread like the tide, some of the students were so overcome that they doubled over trying to breathe.

"SILENCE!" An enhanced auditory spell blasted across the assembly.

"Continue," said one of the instructors. "Don't be so nervous. That was a wonderful manifest."

Gwen nodded, trying to block out the stifled mockery filling the space between her ears.

Show them what you can do, Gwen thought to herself. Show the world what you can do.

Her Evocation Sigil flared, sending a torrent of lightning-charged mana into her conduits. Raising her hand, a finger extended towards the heavens, she then swiftly pointed downwards. "Blast Bolt!"

The roar of her invocation rang outwards. Those close to her instantaneously felt their hair rise to a stand-still. A vacuum formed above the dummies.

A blue-purple shriek of lightning cut through the air and struck the closest scarecrow. The wood grew bright before exploding into ten thousand pieces, sundered into motes of ash and dust. The obliteration was so complete that not even the stump remained, leaving only a half-metre crater.

Before the first arc faded, another cut through the air, obliterating another dummy.

Then another and another.

Chaotic lightning filled the air, indiscriminately ravaging the space within the radius of the spell.

Gwen felt her mana pool drain like snowmelt at springtime, pouring into the white-hot Sigil.

More! The exhilaration thrilled her to the core. I can do more!

A final bolt of lightning struck the ground—a beam of solid light, blinding all within sight. A shockwave expanded from the epicentre, sending out a concentric ring of dust. As the particles settled, there remained only decimated stumps amidst a crisscross of molten sand-turned-glass.

Gwen felt her knees give out as mana drain came on. Pulling herself up by the hair, she stood through force of will.

"Magnificent."

"Can we even do that as a Senior Mage?” one of the instructors quipped.

"Sure, but I am fifty, and she's fifteen."

The devastation smouldered.

That was the same chained Signature Spell that Yue had been using but Gwen’s had been elementally charged with lightning. Gwen had taken advantage of an observed phenomenon that when an area was charged with Positive Energy, it gave rise to more powerful lightning manifests. For Blast Bolt, it meant that each subsequent strike was substantially stronger.

The one flaw that remained was how to target moving objects.

The assembly of students picked their jaws off the floor.

"Surely military mages are only about this powerful?"“How is this at a high school level?”

The crowd’s speculation quickly escalated.

Gwen regarded her handiwork with a feeling of satisfaction. For someone schooled in the scientific method, it wasn’t that difficult. One time, she’d fumbled a spell and left excessive motes of positive energy at the location. She’d subsequently found that all her other strikes were redirected to that particular spot. Testing and experimentation had ensued, and she’d found she had a little knack for directing lightning bolts. Since then, she had named her first attack the “Guiding Bolt”.

"Can you continue?"

Gwen nodded, summoning a second wind. She made the gesture of a circle, forming within her mind the Shield spell, and channelled into it whatever mana she had remaining.

"Please, I can't hold this for much longer, sir," Gwen replied between clenched teeth.

The choice was as much tactical as it was necessary.

Only Abjurers could hold Shields indefinitely, and only Abjurers could generate a shield for others. For all other schools of Mages, a Shield was the last resort of self-preservation. During duels or in competitions, getting past the enemy Abjurer to force enemy Mages into 'Shield-Break' was the victory condition. Once a Mage lost their Shield, they were just flesh-and-blood humans.

Gwen's mana shield was pale blue with the occasional spark leaping off its sides. Like all Lightning shields, it was an offensive barrier.

"Ready yourself," the instructors warned.

Three missiles shrieked through the air and struck Gwen's Shield.

The first missile burst into a brilliant ball of light upon contact, consumed by the triggering of the Shield's capacitative energy. The second cut through the electrical barrier, missing her torso. The third pierced the Shield with a sound of breaking glass and struck Gwen squarely in the chest, sending her stumbling backwards and onto her buttocks.

"Gwen!" Now it was Yue's turn to worry.

The instructors breathed out. Much of Spellcraft operated on a balance of power. Abjuration was tough and impenetrable but weak in the offence department. Transmutation was versatile but unexceptional in defence or offence. Evocation Mages had incredible aggression but tended to be glass cannons.

"S."

"A."

"B."

The verdict was out—she had passed with flying colours.

As though someone had pulling a plug, the tension drained from her body. Thank God, Gwen relaxed. She had not disappointed Yue and she had not disappointed herself. Half a year of nothing but hard work, grinding through Christmas, Boxing Day and New Year, had paid off.

The instructors then offered advice on tuning Gwen's spells for stamina and endurance, discussing possible scenarios and weaknesses. She listened attentively and noted each of their concerns for the future.

"Congratulations, Gwen!"

"Good work!"

"Nice!"

The crowd was finally warming up to her.

Gwen wanted to hail back, but she was dizzy with exhaustion. Her whole body felt drained of energy. She wanted to collapse somewhere and rest.

I need to work on this mana conservation business, Gwen cautioned herself. The last thing she recalled was getting back to Yue before falling into her friend.

"Whoa there, hold it steady!" She heard Yue cry out. “Miss — I am taking Gwen to the infirmary."

Chapter eleven

Dark Ritual

Gwen awoke presided over by a resplendent angel in a trainee's scrubs. The Celestial looked just like Elvia only she was attaching an I.V. drip onto Gwen's wrist.

“Healing Word."

A familiar tingle of Positive Energy infused Gwen's chest, stitching her bruised flesh. Slowly, her throbbing injury dissolved until all discomfort ceased. Gradually, her refocused eyes became drawn to a silver-winged badge on Elvia's collar, consisting of two crossed staves with twin serpents.

"Congrats on getting your licence." Gwen’s languished voice addressed her companion.

"Thanks," Elvia replied, her cheeks as fresh as pippins, but then the girl's tone took on a sterner note. "Why did you and Yue both get injured? How irresponsible! I wasn't even there!"

Gwen felt a pang of guilt. In hindsight, the impression she had made was matched only by her recklessness.

"I couldn't have summoned the Shield otherwise," she tried to explain logically. "It took everything I had. Next time…"

"Hmmph!" Elvia snorted. "There won't be a next time. At least not without me nearby!"

"Sure thing, Evee." Gwen touched her friend's slim white fingers in an attempt to appease her. "How was your test?"

"Fine, though I wasn't in danger, not like you guys," Elvia recollected. “It was difficult having to triage twenty patients by myself, but everyone did fine. Uncle had to make minor adjustments, but I passed with flying colours."

"I am glad to hear it." Gwen breathed out.

The door of the infirmary opened without so much as a knock.

"She awake?" Yue entered the room like a storm.

"Yeah, just about."

"Hey, Yue."

"Gwen!" Yue leaned into the bed and gave her friend a suffocating hug. "I got some great news! Because of the school's crop of 'advanced' students, we're going to have a personal instructor. The Sydney Tower is sending one of their own!"

A private instructor? Gwen mused. That is good news. Ordinarily only the elite private schools had individual instructors.

"Other than that, how are you feeling?"

"I am just a bit tired," Gwen confessed.

"The drip is a saline solution. It should get your hydration up," Elvia informed them. "I am afraid I haven't learned Lesser Restoration yet."

"Take another nap,” Yue advised. "You’re totally out of mana."

"I think I will."

“One more thing.” Yue stopped by the door, trailed by Elvia. “You’re up for another session at the Cog Chamber. The principal says to get it done as soon as you can. Before the instructor arrives.”

"Alright."

A second session would be immensely helpful, Gwen thought, applauding Principal Bartlett's assistance. She needed to figure out what those strange black phenomena had been.

With her friends gone, she sunk into the soft linen covers of the infirmary bed and thought about the near future. She had finally attained her short-term goals and now her immediate concern was the real-life trial by fire and combat.

Blackwattle's top Acolytes would divide into groups deep into the Green Zone to perform mock-quests. These were different each year—sometimes retrieving an object an examiner had planted, sometimes returning with the evidence of completing a subjugation.

Her first hunt.

Her first kill.

Mayhap her first injury.

Aye, now there's the rub. Gwen bit her lip until she tasted a hint of iron. She'd never so much as gutted a fish before, and now she was supposed to kill? Not only that, but a living “being” in the shape of a person?

Can I handle it? she wondered to herself.

What would happen if a creature wounded her?

She imagined herself freaking out, hysterical, unable to concentrate. She, who hadn't even so much as broken an arm in all her years had to contend with the possibility of a Magical Beast ripping out a chunk of her flesh.

More importantly, could she stay cool if Yue or Elvia got seriously injured? Would she freeze, freak, or flee?

Elvia stayed behind after her shift and waited for Gwen to wake before they went home together. The dorm had set up a small celebratory dinner for the victors. When the duo entered the communal dining area, cheers and applause welcomed them to the tune of pyrotechnical cantrips.

Dinner was already in full swing amidst a sumptuous feast of Wildland creatures. Rawson had spared no expense, tapping deep into the scullery's budget to make a meal worthy of Blackwattle's prodigies.

Once again, Elvia bore witness to the appetite of teenagers, with her fellow students packing away enough food to feed a battalion of soldiers.

“Gwen! Elvia!” A familiar voice called out.

The girls turned to see Jun, comfortable in jeans and an indy band shirt, a drink in each hand, accompanied by Yue.

“For us?” she took one off his hands.

“Of course.” Jun had a habit of grinning with only the left side of his mouth, smiling lopsidedly.

“Here we are, ladies.” A second voice greeted them. It belonged to a young man with a mop of fair hair. Their guest was clean cut in a white t-shirt and jeans, identified by a tattoo on his right hand in the form of an eye.

“Henley Lucas Prince, at your service.” The young man bowed, careful not to spill the drinks he held.

Gwen took the stemmed glasses and thanked their new companion. She passed one over to Elvia. “Gwen Song.”

“Elvia Lindholm.”

“Henley is a Diviner,” Jun spoke on his companion's behalf. “Tier II Air, not that it matters. He's pretty handy with Magic Missiles, though.”

Divination was the one school that required no particular affinity with elements. Its staple spells, however, were incredibly useful—True Strike, Detect Hostility, Detect Magic, Detect Poison and Find Traps. No other School of Magic possessed so much utility.

The girls' eyes lit up.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” Henley quipped.

“I can vouch for his expertise,” Jun butted in. "Though not for his personality."

“I can find any lost key within a radius of three hundred metres,” Henley humbly bragged, “and mark any target so that your spells can unerringly strike it.”

Gwen immediately thought of her trouble with the Guiding Bolt, the one imbued with a positive charge. Could Henley be the solution to her problems?

Swinging the flute-glass in an arc, she turned her hazel eyes to Henley's surprised face. Shifting her upper body, shoulders squared for maximum elegance, she unleashed a devastating smile.

Henley gulped, failed by his Divination.

“I think she likes him,” Jun said cautiously, looking to Yue for confirmation.

Yue measured Henley over from head to toe.

“Hey, look but no touch.” Henley's scalp crawled.

"How good's your Divination?" Yue asked.

“Impeccable.” Henley’s voice took on a more flamboyant tone, “Shall I invoke the rite of Seeing and gaze into the uncertain future for you? To scry the invisible and make known the unseeable?”

“Ergh, mate…” Jun's face turned bright pink. For whatever reason, all Diviners develop a tic for the theatrical.

“Alright, what's Elvia thinking?” Yue pulled the surprised girl before her, presenting her before Henley like a ritual sacrifice.

“Detect Thoughts!” Henley announced, a halo of sorts materialised over his head.

“Oh no.” Elvia cowered. Where could this possibly be going?

“Ask me anything about yourself,” Henley began.

“Are you wearing a bra today, Evee?” her companions blurted in tandem.

Elvia turned to stone, as per Petrify.

Henley’s face went from white to red, then to a deep scarlet.

“Yep, he's the real deal,” Yue noted.

“Very effective, good mana conversion ratio,” Gwen added professionally, sipping her coke.

Elvia turned to her roommates with flashing eyes. “You guys! Hmmph!” she huffed and puffed as her friends fell about in hysterical laughter. To everyone’s surprise, she slapped Yue across the chest, then slapped Gwen across the buttocks, drawing curious eyes from around the room.

Jun turned to Henley, now polymorphed into a beetroot. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He glanced at his friend cautiously, “How old did you say the healer was?”

“Same age as the others. Fifteen, I am sure.”

“Alright.” Henley looked sceptical.

“What's wrong?”

“…”

“Well?”

“She’s not wearing a bra.”

“…”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, that's the five of us then,” Jun changed the topic. “I’ll head to the head office and get the admin done.”

“They need to sign too,” Henley added.

“No problems. I’ll drop by the dorm."

They clinked their drinks.

"Aeee!" Elvia dodged an enraged Yue while beside them, Gwen cackled.

Surely, the boys hope against hope, the girls should have no trouble with Survival and Orienteering, right?

Gwen made her second trip down the familiar hallway to the Cognisance Chamber with the blessing of Principal Bartlett. During one of their early morning chats at the school gate, she had lamented the early termination of her previous visit, to which the wisened principal must have taken note.

Inside, the chamber remained as before. She took her place in the middle, the room dimmed, folding space and time, then she was once again within the arena of her mind.

Within, her Evocation Sigil glowed happily, pulsating amongst the indefinite space of the Astral Plane, an occasional arc of Lightning broadcasting a spiderweb fissure of Lichtenberg figures.

Right, here goes.

Gwen summoned the lightning serpent that she had conjured prior. Rather than an electric elver, it was now akin to a ball python. Caught inside its translucent body, she could see tiny motes of lightning sparking back and forth.

Gingerly, her mind reached for the space beyond the Evocation nebular, expanding her consciousness, searching for those little black motes that gave off a sickening feeling of vertigo. The light of her Lightning added a dimension to the darkness that had not existed before, though Gwen was confident that this too, was merely an illusion of her mind's making.

She soon rediscovered her quarry.

Unlike her first endeavour, there no longer seemed to be a host of the little grub-like creatures lingering so close to the Evocation Sigil, likely frighted off by the overflow of energy.

There!

She felt it! That sudden drop in the pit of her stomach as if she had stepped into air. She moved closer, figuratively speaking, finding a cluster of the creatures thick enough to form a black void. Unbidden, the cumulative effect of seeing the larval swarm made her nauseous with motion sickness.

She drew back. It was too much.

What is this thing? She felt simultaneously drawn by the vortex of inverted space, where the leech-like creatures writhed, their oily hides darker than black. Vaguely, her mind forewarned her of the curious cat.

Gwen had to reminded herself that none of this was real, that all of this was inside her head, a manifestations of her Astral field. As there existed no records of anyone dying in the chamber, there was only one way to find out what her vision portended.

With an audible clench of teeth, she suppressed her instinctual revulsion. Instead, she pushed herself towards the mass of writhing larvae, at which point the vertigo ringing in her head grew to an insane screech resembling dial-up modems.

Effortlessly, her arm sank down to its elbow.

She may as well have assailed a bucket of dry ice.

Shit, did I fuck up? A sudden paranoia engendered. The agony was at such a pitch that she felt on the verge of cracking a molar.

Oh, God! She gulped for air. It was like having her arm caught in a lathe.

Below, reflected in the Cognisance illusion, tenebrous, inky liquid from the worms seeped into her Astral Body. Within her mind, the torturous pain grew abstract and exquisite, combining with her anima.

With a shuddering force of will, Gwen tightened her grip, crushing something with the texture of gelatine.

ENOUGH! Gwen pleaded to the void that she was at her limit.

But the void had better ideas than to let go of its meal.

"Go!"

She released her lightning serpent; a bright sliver of starlight piercing the void. The darkness retreated like a tide, instantly fading into the neutral nothingness of the Astral Plane.

Opening her hand, she saw within her palm motes of darkness embedded in her flesh, appearing and disappearing at the edge of her vision.

Talk about gut-churning, brain boiling trial! Gwen grunted. But she had powered through, that was the crucial thing. Come bushfire or flood water, she would never doubt her will to get shit done.

The projection waned, indicating the end of her session.

Just in time too. Gwen exhaled. That was a close one.

With great anticipation, she made her way out to collect her student card. What would have changed? What would it say now? She couldn’t wait. A new element perhaps, maybe another School of Magic?

That would be incredible because only the most talented individuals from the most incestuous bloodlines produced Mages with two elements.

“Here you are." The instructor returned her card.

Gwen inspected her ID.

Gwen Song

S.I.D:: 0043598

Evoker Tier:: II

Elemental Affinity :: Quasi Elemental—Lightning (III)

“Congratulations on the new tier.”

What an exemplary student, her expression appeared to say, only three months in and Gwen was already tier II.

She regarded her card once again, noting the absence of any other significant difference.

She baulked. Had she made a mistake? Were the dark worms sweet nothings?

All that pain and suffering for a misunderstanding? That’s bullshit! Gwen felt cheated by the Cog-Chamber. So much for her fair shake of the sauce bottle. Not even a consolation prize?

“You alright, Miss Song?” The instructor enquired. Now that’s she’s taken a better gander at the infamous student, she noted Gwen looked somewhat gaunt. Her cheeks were sallow and sunken, the bags under her eyes were puffy and pronounced. She looked as though she hadn't slept for days.

“You are overtaxing yourself,” she said worryingly. “It will do you no good if you collapse.”

Gwen likewise took notice of her diminished state of health. “I don't feel so g—” She tried to speak, but her throat choked with ash and dust.

Oh no no no, not again. Gwen felt a sinking feeling, the same she had exhibited in Hyde Park. Her world began to spin, inundated by that strange vertigo. She fell into the alarmed embrace of the instructor as she slumped forward, her body falling as though someone had cut the strings holding her up.

“How are you here again?!” Elvia’s voice grew full of upset and disappointment. She had been chewing Gwen out for the last ten minutes. “What kind of training are you doing behind our backs?”

“I am sorry, Evee.”

“If I may interrupt…” a masculine voice with a strong European accent spoke beside them. It was the physician who had been teaching Elvia—Dr Lindholm, her uncle. “Gwen, I want you to be very honest with me.”

“I shall,” Gwen replied, a little worried about what would happen if someone found out about her true condition.

“Are you putting yourself on a diet?”

“No,” Gwen replied quizzically.

“Alright,” he turned to Elvia for confirmation, who affirmed Gwen wasn't hiding anything untoward.

“Gwen eats enough for both of us,” Elvia divested sourly.

Gwen blushed.

“Right. So,” the doctor continued, “are you sexually active?”

“Uncle!”

“I am sorry, what?” Gwen almost spat on Elvia's uncle. The complexion of her face flamed amazement.

“Ahem, I am serious.” Elvia's uncle appeared unmoved, making the two girls ashamed for their faux pas. “I mean, have you been out with anyone other than people from the dorm, people who are questionable, perhaps engaging in substance abuse, that sort of thing?”

“No, never. I train all the time.”

“Elvia?” The good doctor didn’t seem to hold the general honesty of teenage girls in high esteem.

“It’s true, Uncle. Gwen trains like it's her religion.”

“No stranger-danger?”

“...”

“Fine, fine. Can you elaborate on your training?”

Gwen told him what she could.

“I see,” he replied. “I fear you are not suffering from mana drain, but in fact from a vitality drain. Perhaps ease off on the exhaustive training? I know it’s said to develop your mana reserves, but it remains a questionable truism from early Spellcraft theory.”

Gwen searched her memory of the last few months lectures. “Vitality drain? As in life drain?”

“Yes,” Elvia’s uncle worriedly answered. “I’d say the symptoms point to a negative energy drain, but you’re tapped into the positive energy plane, so that’s hardly a possibility.”

“That’s…” Gwen paused. She recalled the strange dark mass and the black worms. “Impossible. I’ll be more careful with my mana management next time.” She was infamous for her horrid mana management, after all.

“I need to take some blood samples if you don’t mind,” the doctor stated, “in case there are pathogenic quasi-magical reasons.”

Gwen nodded demurely.

“Is Gwen going to be alright?” Elvia asked. “Won’t she be too weak to give blood?”

“It’s alright, Evee.” Her uncle replied kindly.

Gwen looked away as the syringe penetrated her dermis. The bloodletting was relatively painless, though she had always been terrified of needles and could not bear to watch. Several vials of blood soon lined the shelves, while she appeared even paler than before.

“That’s all I needed.” Elvia's uncle sealed the vials with labels. “Now for your treatment. Sit upright, please, arms relaxed, chin up.”

The doctor hovered a hand over her heart. “Lesser Restoration! Heal Moderate Wounds!”

A thrum of Positive Energy flooded her Astral Form. Gwen’s physical body absorbed the healing mana greedily. Instantly she felt haler; in fact, she felt better than ever.

“She's fit and ready to go," the doctor declared.

“Thanks, Uncle.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gwen acknowledged likewise, still feeling a little woozy from the sudden influx of vitality.

“Get some sleep,” he advised. “You'll need to have a long rest after you get home. I’ll write you a script. Take tomorrow off.”

“Thanks again, sir.”

“Is nothing the matter Gwennie? Really?” after her Uncle left, Elvia pursued the source of Gwen's illness relentlessly.

“I am fine, Evee.”

“Alright,” Elvia stated softly. She hugged Gwen, burying her small face in her chest like a kitten. “You’re so bony.”

“Yeah, I am starving. I could eat a whole Auroch right now.”

“What happened?” Yue asked, watching Gwen moving onto her third quarter of quail.

Elvia told her of what her uncle had said.

“Training a little too hard, hey?” Yue looked over at Gwen sceptically, who was trying to swallow and drink at once. “If you’re low on mana, I’ve got some spare crystals.”

“Mmmmm mmph,” came the reply.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” both Elvia and Yue corrected her at once.

Gwen swallowed, her stomach bloating like a balloon. She gave it a playful pat.

She was stuffing herself sick because of what she'd seen in the bathroom mirror. For whatever reason, she had unknowingly slipped from comfortably slim toward anorexia. Far beyond an athletic litheness, her hipbones protruded and her ribs were painfully visible. Horrid sight! Impermissible! Gwen had baulked. Even in her last life, working sixty hours a week, she’d managed to hit the gym enough times between work and weekends to maintain an enviable health.

Beauty was vanity, but it was also social capital!

Chapter twelve

Instructions and Instructors

Woodland survival took place within a specially constructed Illusion inside the Blackwattle's athletics field, supplemented by Conjured flora. The process was apparently both costly and complicated, and an average school like Blackwattle could only afford enough resources to keep the Enchantment lit for a month at best. As such, within a limited time frame, all eligible students had to complete Woodland Survival 101 or forfeit their chance of distinguishing themselves on the field trip.

The course was operated by several Rangers who had been sent down from Randwick Barracks, specialising in overland combat, especially recon and scouting missions.

Gwen's eyes lit up when their instructor, a six-foot-four clean shaven staff sergeant, presented himself to the students.

“Call me Sergeant Boone.” The military man grinned affably.

Gwen's face heated up. Having spent so much time in the company of teenagers, the presence of an actual man made her realise just how much she had missed interacting with adults.

Sgt. Boone had the exterior of a poster soldier from propaganda vid-casts. In his tight khaki crew-neck, he resembled an Aussie G.I. Jimbo.

“Gwen, stop drooling.” Yue nudged her in the ribs, responding to the fact that Gwen perpetually lamented her useless father, an unambitious layabout who relied on women.

The exercises the students had to perform were numerous, but for Gwen, who had the patience and experience of an adult, field dressing and other basic survival routines provided a scant challenge. Though physically exhausting, it was a treat watching Boone sweat though his explanations.

Until the class moved onto utilitarian magic.

The students each had to take a hand in makeshift shelter construction and fire-making. They also practised hunting relatively harmless Wildland creatures for provisions, or at least, animated Constructs imitating the real-life animals. The illusory field further disorientated the students, assessing their orienteering and tracking abilities.

Day after day, the schedules and activities continued. The field even had simulated rain, as well as a bushfire one time, though Gwen suspected Yue had something to do with it.

By the fourth day, her confidence was shot.

Since Mages could manifest a variety of practical phenomena, different Schools of Magic made specific tasks negligible and trivial.

Yue, for example, could create fire, but couldn't control flames. It meant that if she lost control of a spell, the entire camp could end up in smoke. This was where Water Mages, the most common of all Elemental Mages, saved the day. They may not be able to fight very efficiently, but they could conjure clean water for drinking and washing, put out fires, and even effortlessly create mana Shields to block the rain.

Likewise, recruit a good Earth Abjurer or Transmuter, and one had instant shelters. Abjurers created igloo-like dome structures where teammates could sleep, whereas Transmuters could transmute stone and build a two-bedroom bungalow. Boone told them that one time his squad had been stuck out in the Wildlands near the Orange Zone of central Australia. Lacking protection from the sun, their Transmuter dug a small complex underground so secure and well-sheltered that the army opted to convert it into a Forward Operating Base.

Watching the others busy at work, Gwen and Yue realised a fundamental flaw of Evocation. Evokers were very, VERY good at killing stuff and blowing shit up. But were otherwise one-trick ponies.

Oh. My. God. Her face burned. To think her profession would evoke shame.

Gwen, Yue and half a dozen others stood and watched those whom they had looked down upon previously going about a dozen tasks at once.

I am sorry, non-Evocation Mages! Gwen apologised profusely. I was too arrogant and ignorant of your talents!

Where Evokers had been the star of every practice session, with every eye and ear enticed by their loud explosions and cool pyrotechnics, now they just loafed around.

Together with Gwen and Yue, they watched their precarious wood shacks wavering in the wind while someone like Debora transmuted themselves an elevated stone fortress.

Wincing at the tenderness of her blistering fingers, she couldn't muster the motivation to excel the bare minimum.

What was worse, Debora, having discovered the girls' ineptitude, had set herself up to flirt with Boone, asking for pointers on how she could strengthen her Normandy battle fortress. She was the perfect candidate, after all, possessing both Transmutation and Earth talents, the same as Boone.

Watching her sculptures twist and turn into arches and extend to become walls was agonising for Yue, who could do nothing but hack away at the branches with a tomahawk, feeling like a useless NoM.

“The nerve!” Yue growled. “She’s all over Sgt. Boone like cheap meat.”

“It's fine.” Gwen shrugged. She could see that Boone was uncomfortable and understood the man perfectly well. These were high school girls and he was a thirty-something adult. Though Debora had the body of a woman, her childish display of flirtatious sexuality had Boone sweating buckets.

Not that Debbie’s elevated fortification—a two-metre tall monstrosity with a roof and an observation platform, wasn’t impressive. In response, Boone heaped praises upon her, setting their rival aglow with otherworldly confidence.

Yue and Gwen observed their shabby stick humpy, breathing out sadly through their nostrils.

This time, it was Debbie’s victory.

Debora's display had demonstrated Transmutation's versatility. Debora could launch a short-range Catapult, she could Barkskin, she could Stone Shape in the future. She could even self-buff engage in close quarter combat. Compared to Evocation, Transmutation was an all-rounder talent. Debora was one hell of a useful person to have on a team, more so than themselves, who were glass cannons.

“I think we looked down on her too much,” Yue confessed her honest feelings.

“Yeah.” Gwen found herself twiddling her hair. “I feel useless.”

“Erg…”

Elvia joined them on the fifth day, having undergone separate training for battle triage and field hospital protocols. She was likewise useless at base-building. So the three girls spent the next week learning a little thing or two about the versatility of the other Schools of Magic.

In the end, the trio managed a “Pass Conceded”.

Combat training and teamwork followed.

On paper, Jun's setup was perfect.

Their scout, Henley, did not need to separate from the team and, as such, could enjoy the full benefit of Gwen and Yue’s firepower as well as Elvia’s healing should things come to a head.

Thanks to an augur in their midst, the party could move while maintaining formation, alternating casts between Gwen and Yue to conserve mana, and have Elvia and Henley buff the party. Jun served double duty as both battlefield control and tank, using his spells to snare and slow opponents. If they ran into Soldier-tier beasts, Gwen and Yue would attack, and Jun would slow. In the worst-case scenario, Henley and Elvia had their own Shields. Furthermore, as a Cleric, Elvia's mana-intensive Shield of Faith was as strong as Jun's Abjuration Shields, though she could only protect herself.

Unfortunately, reality rarely adhered to paper tactics.

“Oh my God! I just died, Yue! I just died!”

The training field had transformed into a sparse fire trail thanks to a combination of Illusion and Conjuration, setting the girls to track a moving “dummy” of sorts.

When Yue spied the dummy hidden behind a thick-waisted oak, she let loose a barrage almost on instinct. The effect was spectacularly disastrous.

Her first bolt struck the tree. The second caught on a branch. The third thumped the ground adjacent, sending up a cloud of dust and soil.

The dummy skipped away, but the tree Yue had struck splintered and fell, almost knocking out Jun, who had to hastily erect a reinforced ice barrier.

“You’re fine!” Yue pointed out.

“I know, but if I was slow, or if I SUCKED, I would be a pile of meat under a tree right now. Imagine if Gwen or Henley was in my place.” Jun pointed out coldly, which riled up Yue even more.

The group's training was not unfolding smoothly.

Yue had a knack for firing bolts at whatever came into her field of vision. Even with the divination provided by Henley, she hit trees left and right, sending blasts of splintered wood, dust and assorted debris towards her team.

She should be using shaped blasts. Gwen thought of the physics of her old world and wondered if such a thing could be applied to Spellcraft. She had no idea how shaped charges worked. It wasn't like they taught demolition in MBA courses at the University of Sydney.

“So what do you want me to do then?” Yue demanded with exasperation. The woodlands proved a terrible terrain for her Magic, incidentally, it was the same terrain as the Royal National.

Exasperated, the two senior students halted the party and the five huddled to discuss better strategy.

“Yue, I am not blaming you, but you need to be aware of overhead obstacles.”

There were reasons why baseline spells were timeless. Had Yue stuck to the self-seeking flaming missiles, there would have been no problem. Rolling back her spells, however, would halve her damage output, not to mention Yue was adamant she could somehow make it work.

“Alright, let us take ten and we’ll get back to you.”

Yue fell back and moved to the middle of the party and Gwen moved up just behind Jun.

“Now, Gwen.” Jun indicated for her to follow. “With me, on my mark.”

“Righto.” Gwen followed, feeling adrenaline kicking through her body.

Jun indicated to the Controller to release another dummy. In the distance, the shape of a semi-humanoid creature materialised. It landed mechanically on the forest floor, imitating a kind of half-wallaby, half-goblin hybrid.

“Blast Bolt!”

A blue bolt of electricity ionised from midair and struck the creature before it even moved from the summon circle, obliterating the golem-dummy into bits of splintering wood and animal skin.

“On my mark,” Jun groaned. “On MY MARK, Gwen.”

“Sorry.” Gwen made a face. “I was a bit nervous.”

“Another! Sorry about that!” Jun called out to the Controller.

“You’ve got thirty more minutes,” A husky female voice called out from the control tower.

“Alrighty then.” Jun turned to Gwen. “On my mark…”

Another dummy materialised, making its gangly way into the woodland illusion. This time they waited until the thing hid somewhere in the woods.

“Alright, here goes.”

Henley’s halo came into being. He scanned the area before him, locating the magical signature of the skittish Construct almost immediately.

“Three o’clock, twenty metres, one enemy, small,” the Diviner reported expertly.

The party moved forward as quietly as they could manage, with Henley reporting their quarry's movements every time it shifted positions. Gwen’s Bolts were effective up to forty metres, but her spatial accuracy suffered as distance increased.

“Engaging,” Jun announced.

“Bless.”

“True Strike.”

The group held its breath. The dummy stopped behind another tree but quickly decided against hiding and leapt from the bush as quickly as a mechanical wallaby could.

“Guiding Bolt!”

Gwen watched with surprise as her bolt, which had been half a metre off, arced towards the target as if guided by providence. It was the chance-altering effect of True Strike, which tapped into the threads of possibilities and gave her a sensation of preternatural foresight. From the view of others, it looked as though the thing had run into a bolt of lightning.

Crack!

The additional energy from the Blessing spell kicked in. Not far away, the positively charged bolt ripped apart the Construct, sending up an eruption of splinters.

“Finish it!” Jun commanded.

“Lightning Blast!”

Guided by the positive energy planted by her Guiding Bolt, a half dozen bolts arced through the air. Three strikes, three near misses and a mess of electrical explosions later, naught but a smouldering mass was left.

“Ray of Frost.” A crinkle of frost smothered the sparks and cooled the area.

Jun’s cantrip stamped out any potential fires before they could spread. That was something they had to wary of; the Green Zone had little economic activity such as logging, meaning the forest was thick with tinder.

“Good job!” Jun breathed out.

“Nice one, Gwen,” Henley said.

Gwen bumped fists with Yue and Elvia.

That was a good run by any metric.

It demonstrated the absurd advantage Lightning Mages had over those with projectile blasts. As long as Gwen could visualise the manifestation point, she could manifest from the back, the front, the side, above; any which way. It was still safest to shoot from above the target though, as electricity tended to arc towards the nadir, and Gwen did not want to risk wasting a spell by grounding it accidentally.

The group switched between Yue and Gwen three more times before their allotted training hour was over. Yue succeeded on her next try, but, on her final attempt, once again overcommitted, starting a small forest fire.

“Alright, let's pack it up for today,” Jun called, and the five retreated from the practice field. The illusion faded, and they were once again out on the concrete walkway.

“Impressive firepower,” a sultry voice rang out behind them.

“Ma’am.” Jun greeted the figure still in the shadow of the fading illusion.

“AOE problems?”

The owner of the voice looked to be in her late twenties, curvaceous and professionally attired. She wore a scarlet pencil skirt and a tapered white blouse adorned with a carmine ribbon-neck tie, matched by heels in ruby-red. She possessed an air of confidence that made the students instantly attentive, undiminished by her uncommonly gorgeous face. Behind her head, she wore hair as a piled bun, leaving loose ringlets to frame her delicate profile.

Her ultramarine eyes twinkled.

More so than the others, Gwen felt doubly impressed. The instructor reminded her of her previous self.

“Ma’am.” The students bowed their heads.

“Alesia De Botton, guest instructor.” She extended a hand and crisply shook the students’ sweaty palms. “I’ll be looking after your group on the Field Trip.”

“We’re in your care ma’am,” Jun answered.

“Not yet, tiger.” Alesia's scarlet smile was full of confidence. “First impressions are important.”

She waved to the control station and the field changed from that of the forest to that of a dozen dummies roving back and forth.

“Fire Ball!”

A mote of flame shot out from her fingertips towards the roving dummies. To their surprise, it flew perfectly between the first two, through a gap in the third, and struck the fourth dummy dead centre. An eruption of fire then blossomed like a red-scarlet lotus, rolling across the field.

But there was something odd and unusual about the explosion, for it lacked the heat ubiquitous to Yue’s spells.

When the dust settled, they were shocked to see only one dummy destroyed and all the others merely seared and scorched.

“How?” Yue's jaw hung half open.

How indeed! Gwen was equally puzzled.

“That’s a shaped-spell.” Alesia shook her finger cooly like someone tapping the ash from a cigarette. “You need a little bit of Evocation and a bit of Transmutation, a little meta magic training and a little help from an elemental spirit."

The gathered teens gazed upon their new Instructor, genuine worship welling in their youthful, impressionable hearts. Even Gwen was infected by Alesia’s startling displays of competence.

Evocation and Transmutation?

Her mind reeled.

A MAGUS!

A REAL-LIFE MAGUS!

Someone who was fully competent in TWO Schools!

And the woman didn’t look a day over thirty!

Chapter thirteen

The Calm

Abrave new world was opening in front of Yue's eyes.

This was Spellcraft?! REAL Spellcraft? She couldn't help but wonder what two-bit charlatan magic she'd been learning this whole time.

Alesia’s Fireball was too abnormal, her control too refined. Where Yue's proud Firebolts belonged to a pyromaniac, Alesia’s control was a demolition crew strategically performing a controlled burn.

“That… that was amazing, ma’am,” Yue muttered bewilderingly, reeling with wonder.

Gwen felt taken aback as well. To control an explosion so precisely that it could identify friend or foe? What an insane ability! Once again, magic defied her understanding of physics.

More than that though, they were speaking to an actual Magus, someone who had attained their second School of Magic. For the mundane Mage, one had to relentlessly practice in order to produce a mnemonic-Sigil. That, or one could possess a natural affinity for more than one School.

As Alesia was far too youthful to be someone with a mnemonically-forged Glyph, she must, therefore, be the latter.

Across from Gwen and her stunned companions, Alesia regarded her cohort of moon-eyed teens with smugness. Her Master had been right in telling her that the younglings responded best to demonstrations of absolute power.

“I’ll be taking you on for the next month or so. All your training time will be with me,” she said, lowering her octave a little to emphasise her solemnity. “I hope we can get along for the duration, and that you will benefit from my guidance.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The five made a show of sloppy salutes. None of them had experienced military service yet.

“Ma’am,” Yue was already breathless with anticipation. “Could you… could you explain what you did?”

Alesia gave them all a dazzling smile, her teeth white and gleaming.

“It’s okay if you’re busy…” Yue hastily added.

“It’s fine.” Alesia turned her palm over. The familiar sight of a dancing flame appeared. Yue had also performed this rite to practice her flame control.

“Put your hand over my flame," Alesia commanded.

“…” The gathering waited for Yue to oblige.

“Ma’am?”

The rest of the party saw a dancing pile of elemental fire, but Gwen saw ions oxidising at well over six hundred degrees Celsius.

To her teeth-gritting terror, Yue obliged. The spunky Asian girl lifted her hand and placed it within the scarlet-orange flame.

“It…” Her eyes widened. “It feels like cotton candy! How is that possible? Is this an illusion?”

Emboldened by Yue, the others had a go as well, feeling the flame wrap around their hands harmlessly. True to Yue’s words, the sensation was akin to cotton.

“Make me some ice,” Alesia ordered.

Jun created an icicle on his palm.

“Try again.”

Jun placed his iced palm into the flame and instantly yelped.

“Arrgg!” He jumped back, noting that his hand was unharmed, but his icicle had melted and that the sudden burst of steam had reddened a finger. “That's a scorching-hot flame!”

Indeed, Gwen acknowledged. For a flame to utterly eradicate its oppositional element would imply that Alesia's fire was several magnitudes that of Jun’s Elemental Ice. As she suspected, the laws of physics possessed only a precarious hold in this world.

Alesia withdrew her hand, but the flame continued to float in mid-air. The phenomenon was more shocking than Alesia's absurd control. They watched the fire gently flicker until it took on the silhouette of a Caracal—an orange, flaming tubby yawning at them disinterestedly.

“A flame Spirit!” Yue was on the verge of asphyxiation. "Ma'am, just who are you?"

Gwen and the others were no less shocked than their companion.

Elemental Spirits were exceedingly rare.

As Jun had readily inform them, one in a thousand kills may yield a complete Creature Core. One in a thousand Cores may yield an intact spirit capable of being utilised by a Mage.

Then there was the fact that Magical Beasts also came in different shapes, sizes and degrees of strength — from weak spell fodder Swarmlings to Titans to Mythics. One could, therefore, imagine the rarity of an Elemental Spirit, especially a powerful one.

Something clicked within Yue’s head.

“Y-you’re—” The girl was stuttering now, “You’re A-Alesia of the Scarlet Flame! The Coral Sea Witch! The Scarlet Sorceress!”

Alesia’s face took on a vibrant red glow. “Scarlet Flame” was the name the Tower had used to propagandise victories over the Mermen during the Coral Sea conflict. Hearing it in the wild was like having one's high school lumen-pics shown in public.

“Um.” Gwen and Elvia’s faces remained blank, though Jun and Henley grew equally breathless.

“She’s a tier V Evoker with tier VI Fire element, Gwennie!” Yue spat in Gwen’s face, her passionate spittle kissing Gwen's cheeks. “Ma’am, I never knew you were also a Transmuter!”

“I am working on it,” Alesia replied, a little less comfortable now that Yue was jumping up and down. She was more used to the careful respect of military folk than a gushing teenage girl. "My official stats are a decade old."

So she’s a war hero, Gwen mused. At least one mystery was solved—the reason why Alesia could Identify-Friend-Foe was because she possessed a flame-Sprite. Alesia's scarlet fire represented an altered-flame filtered through her Crimson Caracal.

“I need to go report to Principal Bartlett, but I’ll leave you with something to ponder.”

Alesia gesticulated her dominant hand toward the field once again. “Flaming Hand!”

A torrent of scarlet flames poured over the field in a sixty-degree arc like a flamethrower.

“Flaming Hand!”

A three-pronged talon of flame left from her hand and struck several targets, missing others.

“Flaming Hand!”

A single torrent of fire, thicker and more potent than the last, not only shot forward but arced across the field like fire from a liquid fuel flamethrower.

The five watched the spectacle wordlessly.

“It is possible to manipulate the final manifestation through visualisation and mental cues. Even if you are not a Magus, you can still work with other Sigils. All it takes is practice,” Alesia informed them before turning to Gwen. “No need to obsess over Signature spells. Instead, focus on the basics. Once you're capable of holding your own, find a Master and learn to craft their Signature Spells before making your own. There's a process to learning Spellcraft that one should not overlap.”

Watching the sorceress, both Gwen and Yue acknowledged that there was something to Alesia’s words. The girls should focus on foundations over dreaming of flight.

“See you tomorrow, upper practice field.” Alesia stretched her shoulders, her red stilettos clicking musically on the pavement as she stalked away.

“That was amazing,” Yue reiterated, finally reattaching her jaw. “She is amazing.”

“So who is she?”

“You need to read more, Gwen,” Jun said. “At least listen to the news or something.”

Gwen put her hands up in a gesture of helplessness.

Jun cleared his throat. “Alesia De Botton, the youngest Ordained Senior Mage to participate in the Purge of the Barrier Reef a decade ago. Awarded the rank of Major, she served as a Wing-Commander serving under Her Majesty’s Aerial Assault Mages during the Coral Sea conflict. As far as I know, she had spent the last year of her military service touring the country, setting up safe zones for new migrants."

"She was popular in vid-casts back when I was in primary school. You can see why. Alesia is both beautiful and badass," Yue added.

“Then what happened? What's someone like her doing here?” Gwen enquired.

“Don’t know.” Jun shrugged. “She left the military after her mandatory service.”

“She's so much better in person.” Henley closed his eyes in remembrance of those childhood propaganda shows. “Maybe she’s doing military recruitment? I know I would join if she asked.”

The others shrugged.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” Yue proposed.

Gwen gazed over to where their instructor's envious figure stood next to the principal, wondering if the old man had something to do with their esteemed guest.

The training that Alesia had in store was divided into three core components—physical training to fortify their bodies, meditation where they practised modifying manifests, and finesse training for Yue and Gwen.

During their exercises, Yue attempted to pry a little into the life story of her idol, receiving naught but mum on the matter of Alesia's private life.

As a part of her teaching, Alesia aided each of them in modifying their existing spells by altering the way they conceived Major and Minor invocations, the verbal and somatic part of spell casting, opening their eyes to new pathways of Meta Magic. For the first time, Gwen learned that lower tier spell were malleable to a Mage's creative intent. Comparatively, for higher tiers of magic, the danger of mana burn increased exponentially.

Enthralled, Alesia's students grew rapt with expectation.

The next month and a half seemed to blitz by as the students returned to their dorms exhausted and drained, their daily lives consisting of nothing but classes, training, eating and sleeping.

Finally, with less than a week to go until the Field Trip, the group was called up to be assessed by the academic board. Though the excursion was merely a training camp in the Green Zone, Blackwattle took meticulous care to ensure that students possessed the competency to come home in one piece.

The test took place in a replicated section of the Royal National's infamous Coastal Track. Simulating a trek that led deep into the Wildlands, where unguarded travellers were almost guaranteed to be harassed by quasi-magical beasts greedy for mana crystals or curious for the products of human civilisation.

The team's new formation had Gwen taking the rear guard, with Yue at the spear point. To prepare, Alesia had the girls systematically measure the range of their spells, finding that Gwen could cover Yue’s range even from the rear. Likewise, until Gwen gained access to line-based AOEs such as the tier III Lighting Bolt, she had no friendly-fire issues thanks to spatial casting.

“Detect Magic.” Henley opened with a staple Divination spell. In the real Wildlands, he would have to alternate between different forms of Detection to scry for various threats.

“Sanctuary.” Jun made the circular gesture familiar to all Abjurers. A ring of ice appeared over Elvia, floating like a halo. It was a trigger-buff that made Elvia less susceptible to the enemies' hostility. If attacked, the spell would further trigger a Frost Barrier.

The examiners nodded discerningly, acknowledging a good use of fundamentals.

“Bless.” Elvia buffed the party, not expecting to extinguish herself during practice.

The group silently moved into the illusory woods.

“Twelve o’clock, two targets, small and medium. Yue takes the first strike,” Henley reported through his mind’s eye. “Incoming!”

Henley had been trained by Alesia to recognise distortions in the mana-field. There were minute but traceable patterns to creatures that differentiated them from the ambient magic of the Wildlands.

Thunk! Thunk!

The Ice Shields were up before the barbed missiles from the golem-creatures even reached the party. Both pinged off the icy domes Jun conjured with articulate gestures, fading immediately as to conserve mana.

Now bereft of the element of surprise, the dummies leapt from hiding and made for the edge of the field, using trees as partial cover.

“Firebolt!” A jolt of fire shot from Yue’s fingertips, following a parabola not upwards but sideways, curving around the trunk of a tree. On impact, her missile erupted, delivering its cargo of unstable energy, forcing the puppet crashing into an adjacent trunk, dashing it to pieces.

The lesser of the two creatures used the chaos to reposition.

“Blast Bolt!” Gwen incanted with somatic flair, trying to orientate an abstract point of origin in space.

Thirty metres away, an arc of electricity tore the dummy apart.

“Hostiles cleared. We're proceeding to next area.”

Following their initial success, the party continued without delay, obliterating each scenario. After thirty-odd minutes, they remained twenty for twenty, coming nigh to the closing part of the examination.

“Releasing large Golem,” a voice announced above them.

Gwen's party felt the bone throbbing thrum of a large-scale Conjuration circle activate and knew that this was their final test.

“GWARRRR!”

The imitated voice of an Orc Warrior resounded through the field, amplified by whatever magical mechanism operating within.

As if for full cinematic effect, the group observed several trees blasting apart as the enormous creature balled through the bush, saliva flying every which way. Even though the party knew that this was an illusion and that beneath it all was yet another dummy made to soak damage, it nonetheless remained a terrifying encounter.

“Steady!” Jun shouted.

“True Strike! Bane!” Henley managed to squeeze in a de-buff before the creature was almost within melee range.

“Shield Stack!” Jun invoked three barriers of icy shields in an instant, countering the brittleness of Ice Shields with reactive layers.

“Shield of Faith!” Elvia’s clear, near transparent shield covered Jun, giving him full visibility and an additional layer of protection.

“Here goes…” Yue breathed in, incanting rapidly as her attack manifested. “Barrage!”

A chain of five Firebolts lit up a pathway of explosions, sending the creature tumbling, dramatically diminishing its momentum.

Thwack!

With a crash, a bulbous arm covered with rocky barnacles struck the first ice shield, obliterating it.

“Guided Bolt!” Gwen intoned, sending a crackle of purple electricity down the massive dummy's illusory face.

The golem raised its fists in an insane pose of anger.

“Lighting Blast!” Gwen's infamous chain-spell began in earnest.

She poured every ounce of her remaining mana into the channel, knowing that this was the last enemy. Evidently, Alesia’s exercises had been well worth the effort. Who would have thought endurance training could manage mana exhaustion? The textbooks had been sceptical of the fact, but Alesia had proven her hypothesis with tangible results.

The examiners smiled to themselves satisfactorily. There she goes, they thought to themselves, having seen Gwen perform the very same spell at practice. What a light show! There were few elements as spectacular as Lightning.

For ten seconds, the girl had managed to keep her electric-disco alive. When the final spark fled, the dummy was reduced to a smouldering jumble of clinking metal.

“S!”

“S!”

“S!”

Absolute destructive power.

Perfect scouting and defence.

Sound teamwork and impeccable awareness of one another’s abilities.

"Bravo!" Principal Bartlett's voice called out from the judges' platform.

The examiners could hardly wait to see what else could be accomplished by Blackwattle's A-Team.

The illusion faded and the sound of applause inundated the athletic field. Gwen searched the crowd and found Alesia loudly clapping with the rest of the instructors. Their eyes met, and she flashed them a brilliant, dazzling smile.

That woman is amazing. Gwen couldn't help but be impressed all over again. Just a month ago, Yue had almost blown Jun seven ways to hell.

What they could do now was astounding, even by semi-professional standards. The examination had no metric for endurance, but Gwen knew that Alesia had ensured that with alternating casting and conservative mana usage, the group's expertise encroached on the proficiency of first-year military students.

“Congratulations, students. You have done very well,” one of the Senior Mages stated proudly.

"Well done, Gwen, Yue, all of you!" Principal Bartlett appeared ten years younger.

The party bowed in front of the elevated platform of the examiners before leaving the field to speak to their instructor, whose striking profile drew attention from the onlookers.

“Thank you so much, ma’am.” Yue tilted her head respectfully.

“The credit is yours,” Alesia replied modestly.

“No ma’am,” Gwen said earnestly. “We could not have done it without you.”

“Aww, you’re all embarrassing me.” Alesia’s smile was blindingly attractive, thanks to the student's intense feelings of gratefulness. “You should have more confidence in your abilities.”

She gave them each a hug, the girls more tightly and intimately, the boys more stiffly because of their nervousness. When she reached Elvia, Alesia could not resist but playfully ruffled the healer's hair.

“I am going to miss this,” Alesia commented jovially. Pampering Elvia was a treat in itself.

“You’re not leaving already, miss?” Elvia inquired dejectedly.

“Not immediately. I'll be looking after you guys at the camp.”

"Another fortnight." Elvia's lips pursed sadly. "Will you be staying on?"

"Unfortunately, no." Alesia gave them all an appreciative smile, "I am sure we'll meet in some other capacity in the future, perhaps at the Tower."

"The Tower?" Yue's eyes were once again aglow with expectation, "Do you work there, miss?"

Alesia's ocean blue eyes fluttered before she gave Yue a quick pat on the shoulder that neither confirmed nor denied her profession. The five stood awkwardly, feeling a lack of closure.

“We will set a new record for you, miss," Jun said with a tone of commitment.

"Of course."

"Yeah!"

The rest agreed readily.

Alesia said nothing but told them to stay and watch the other teams. The Path was long and arduous; every experience could open up new detours.

And so, taking their instructor's advice, Gwen's party remained, receiving congratulations from others who came and went. One by one, they saw how the others faired with their unique team makeups and skill sets.

Of particular note was Debora’s team, utilising an entirely unexpected composition. Extraordinarily, her team had an actual Enchanter in their midst, whose buffs of Bless, Fortify and Endurance provided the team with unmatched fortitude. Likewise, the inclusion of an illusionist scout with access to the Chameleon optic spell provided the team with an excellent spotter. The remaining three members were, shockingly, all Transmuters. They utilised a system of mass-buffs to empower themselves in an almost ridiculous manner.

Debora’s signature version of Bark Skin had now become Bronze Skin; presumably an heirloom spell, providing a layer of armour for the caster. Combined with Long Stride and Enhanced Ability, her team excelled in mobility and defence.

Before a cheering audience, the Transmuter trio transformed into a team of living battering rams. Debora especially was like a dreadnaught of destruction, punching, kicking and throwing fifty-odd kilograms of catapulted stones wherever they went.

The efficiency of their team was such that they demolished all twenty obstacles in half the time Gwen had taken. It was only against the Ogre dummy that the two lesser Transmuters, whose elements were tier I Water and Earth, were stopped in their tracks. It was then up to Debora to combat the creature alone, but with the others supplying snares, illusions and endless entanglements, she was eventually able to beat it into submission just before the forty-minute deadline.

“A.”

“S.”

“A.”

The examiners gave Debora's team a sterling commendation but also warned her that there were limitations in close combat. Until she could rise to a tier high enough to possess the much-lauded Polymorphic spells, the Acolytes would put themselves in unnecessary danger.

Only two more teams managed to down the Ogre dummy, with the further incident of a group suffering the loss of a team member due to a poorly-timed Shielding spell.

By the day’s end, only nine teams and a total of forty-five student Mages were eligible for the Field Trip in a six days’ time. The students returned to their dorms to rest their weary bodies, which had undergone nearly two months of continuous training, some taking time off to meet with family and friends before embarking for the first time into the Wildlands.

Though merely a Green Zone, the fact remained that the Royal National was away from the city’s Barrier Shields, devoid of the footfalls of human civilization.

Chapter fourteen

A Sound of Thunder

“How soon?” A sultry, feminine voice demanded, its figure shrouded by the dim light of phosphorescent Glyphs.

A dozen figures, indistinct in their cowls, watched the cacophony of activity below, perched authoritatively over what appeared at first glance to be an open mine of sorts. Crowded together, the murder of crow-skin cloaks radiated malicious intent, oozing with casual cruelty.

“A week at most,” Another voice, a woman’s, answered.

The cowls they wore were enchanted, masking their faces and distorting their voices.

“You are certain the Serpent will come?”

“Of course.” The third speaker had an illusory display of faces that always changed. The Faceless Man, they called him, the Infiltrator.

“What of the tributes here? There are some potential candidates.”

They looked down below at the dullard workers below, some still hale, others as thin as sticks, tirelessly working themselves to death with faces full of devotion.

“Blood sacrifices,” The faceless man answered without a hint of emotion clouding his voice. “One cannot make a Roc omelette without breaking a few stone eggs.”

The gathering watched the activity below silently.

“What of the Tower, what news of Shultz?”

“They are tied up with the Drowner Incident over the North Shore,” Another voice spoke up. “Their hands are blissfully full.”

“How did you manage that?”

“We gave the daughter of Senator Spencer to the Water Queen.”

“…”

“She was a tier IV Water Transmuter. What a waste,’ another commented. “Surely such young talent could be used more effectively elsewhere."

“Each Mage you waste could bring us closer! Especially a purebred!”

The original speaker, the female figure, raised a gloved hand; it was slim, dainty, aristocratic.

“Enough bickering." Her voice was equally eldritch ice and honeyed mead.

The rest fell into silence.

“We will not meet again until my say-so,” she announced. “Faceless and Edgar will remain here and finish the ritual. Things are moving ahead.”

The gathering bowed or dipped their heads in acknowledgement.

“Your wish is my command,” a smaller figure replied.

“And mine also,” replied the one called Faceless.

The crow-skin robes of all but Faceless and Edgar began to warp and shrink, twisting sinuously. An endless stream of vermin of different shapes and sizes seemed to escape from underneath their robes until only black cloth remained. Once the sorcery wore off, the mass of rats, snakes and poisonous insects began a grand melee of predator and prey.

“…” Edgar was speechless. “Am I the only one dumb enough to attend these things in person?”

“That is why you are still YOUNG,” Faceless said in that strange, genderless, grating voice of his.

“Whatever. Let us proceed.” Edgar nodded at his companion, “Let us see what rough beast will come to claim its kin!”

Chapter fifteen

Oedipus Wrecks

When the girls had finally returned to the dorm, they were greeted at the door by Mr Rawson. “I heard the good news."

“Thanks, Mister Rawson.”

“Thanks, Rory.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Rawson scowled at Yue’s abbreviated intimacy. “That being said—Gwen, the principal wants to see you. Can you head over now? It's urgent.”

“Oh?” Gwen's chest tightened ominously. “Any idea what it's about?”

“No.”

“Alright, I’d better get going then.”

"Want us to come with?"

"Nah, she'll be right."

Gwen waved her peers goodbye, then made for the campus just a block away.

The afternoon sun diffused itself against the horizon, skimming across the ultramarine Sydney sky. Despite the chirping cicadas, Gwen felt goosebumps all over her skin.

The door to the principal’s office yawned open.

Without warning, an excessive of Chanel No.5 drowned her olfactory senses.

OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT. No, no, no! Her body was already engaging its Pavlovian override. Every hair stood upright on her head while her arms and legs petrified. For a moment, she pondered the possibility of fleeing, never to return.

“Come in, Miss Song,” the principal's none-too-friendly voice announced.

She pushed through the door to met the heavily mascaraed eyes of Helena Huang.

“Hello, Mother.” She managed to squeeze the greeting out between gritted teeth, compelling a smile that died before it reach her eyes.

Her mother turned her body ostentatiously.

Sweet Jesus, Helena, what are you wearing?! Gwen flushed a dark scarlet, overwhelmed by second-hand embarrassment.

Her mother had on a cream dress practically glued onto her outrageous body. Her cleavage so exaggerated as to almost erupt from its hapless containment, threatening to spill with every movement. Sickeningly, Gwen briefly recalled that her mother had laughed that her “poor” daughter was “incapable” of such a feat.

Principle Bartlett already looked like he had been turned on a spit. His face was a mask of false sympathy and barely contained irritation.

Helena rose from her seat, her athletic legs stretching the fabric to their utmost limits.

Her mother leant in for that cheek-to-cheek kiss. Gwen's spine mechanically bent to meet her almost by reflex, serving as an apt metaphor for her current condition.

The peck on the cheeks made Principal Bartlett instantly uncomfortable, drying up what remained of his amicability.

Their eyes met.

“Sloppy and ugly,” Helena suddenly announced.

Gwen’s mind grew blank. Without warning, she was no longer in control.

Her mother’s hands moved over Gwen’s uniform, straightening her blouse, tucking the edges into her skirt, hiking it an inch higher and exposing more of her long legs. With a deft hand, she flipped over a wayward collar, then pulled on her tie tightly, dextrously re-tying the knot to form a perfect cravat. Gwen’s shoes were unpolished, but there was nothing Helena could do about that now.

Helena stood back to admire her work.

“I am sorry you have to suffer such a slouch of a student,” Helena remarked with a little too much emotion in her voice.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Bartlett waved his hand dismissively.

Helena retook her seat. Gwen stood beside her stiffly.

I need to get out of here before this body goes hysterical, Gwen thought, her legs threatening to give out from the tension. Despite her best efforts, not a single muscle responded to her command.

“So, Gwen dearest,” her mother cooed, her assonance long and sensual. “Why was I not informed?”

“I…" Gwen's tongue was stuck in a barb wire snare.

“Informed that you were a rare and wondrous Quasi-Elementalist, hmm?” Her mother’s voice took on a higher octave, “One of the best in the school, your principal said.”

“Mother,” Gwen had a dozen explanations, but all her concentration was spent trying to suppress her moistening eyes. Already, the back of her throat was a mess of wrangling muscles. “I… er… I wanted to…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Gwen’s rational mind screamed and raved.

“Now now, Mrs Huang.” Bartlett tried to regain some control of the situation. It was evident by now that his student feared her mother's company. “Gwen has her reasons, I am sure, but let me remind you before you challenge her decision, that the Tower has guaranteed the right for any Acolyte to live and study independently from their family.”

Bartlett’s words made Helena’s eyes narrow, giving her irises the look of a tigress eyeing down an audacious prey. The smokey makeup brought out the green in her eyes and made them far more intimidating than they usually appeared.

“I could hardly hope to infringe on Gwen’s decisions,” Helena spoke in a way that made Bartlett sweat. “That's why I am here in person.”

“Oh?”

She turned again, exposing herself a little dangerously before drawing a handbag from the floor. From within she produced what appeared to be a letter. The envelope was gold trimmed, embossed with a crown on its frontage. Bartlett’s brows furrowed and realised why this damned woman had made herself appear before him in person.

“Lilith's College for Girls.” He breathed out with a defeated look.

“Yes, I see you recognise the crest,” her mother intoned.

She opened the envelope, withdrew a tri-folded letter made of thick, scented paper, then began to read out loud in that husky voice of hers.

“We cordially invite Mrs Gwen Song, daughter of Helena Huang and Morye Song, eldest Grand Daughter of Magus Huang, Magus, Senior Enchanter, to attend the college for the duration of her academic career until graduation.”

Helena stopped reading.

“You know what this means,” she confronted Bartlett with an incontestable fact.

“What does it mean?” Gwen implored weakly.

“It means…” Bartlett's voice softened “It means that I should recommend your retraction from our school so that you may begin your attendance at Lilith's College for Girls in February.”

“Why?” A genuine panic engendered. Leave the school? Matters were escalating far beyond her wildest imagination.

Bartlett’s appeared as one crucified by conscience.

“One of the best facilities in Sydney, in Australia, Gwen. The most talented instructors. Endless resources that we cannot possibly begin to provide.”

“I don’t care about that,” Gwen muttered.

“Don’t be such a sulking child,” her mother scolded her.

Then Helena pinched her.

The bitch pinched me!

Her fingers twitched.

“Of course it matters.”

“Gwen, I am not forcing you to make a decision,” Bartlett continued. “But it is in my duty as your educator to tell you that this is a turning point.

“Gwen,” Bartlett continued. “If you graduate from Lilith's, you could be exempt from military service. What's more, you are guaranteed to attend university. If you were to graduate magna cum laude, you could be sent to a tier one city! You could live your adult life in London or New York or Shanghai!”

Exempt from military service? Go to a capital city? That was something none of her friends ever consider seriously. To live in the Frontier cities of humanity had three certainties—death, taxes and military service. The government propaganda had made it very clear that no one was exempt.

“Miss Song.” The principal seemed obliged to sell her the whole hog. “Think of it, you’ll be able to live safely in the capitals of Spellcraft. You wouldn’t have to risk your life for gainful employment or live under the shadow of an invasion. You could perhaps ascend to a position we could only dream of—become a Magus, perhaps a Magister!”

His face grew red with excitement; even Helena was breathless at the prospect. Life in the absolute safety of the White Zones, was something those who lived on the Frontiers dreamt of constantly.

“You could then attend the best universities in the world. Cambridge, Oxford, Fudan. I can’t advise you to stay, Gwen. I can’t.”

Gwen shuddered. Leave Blackwattle? Her immediate thoughts were of Yue and Elvia, who had worked so hard with her to achieve their enviable positions.

Yue, whose bluster made her laugh and who’d helped her through that terrible ordeal, who’d stood by her side when she was feeling suicidal and hopeless. Elvia, her little angel, her faery who brought solace to her heart and studied hard to heal her wounds.

Now her mother, her damned mother, came in here thinking she knew best, trying to take away from her the happiness that she had worked so hard to build for herself.

But Gwen could not deny the truth that was behind Bartlett's words.

Would she have said no half a year prior?

Would she have said no if she’d Awoken to the talent and power she possessed a year earlier and was naturally slated for a school like Lilith's?

The answer was no. She would have welcomed Lilith's with open arms!

Both Gwens within her—the logical, rational, mature-minded Gwen who was pragmatic and realistic as well as the teenager she had never known—the alone and vulnerable and terrified child—screamed for her to accept.

Bartlett and Helena watched her standing there unmoving, her eyes downcast and staring into the middle of the mahogany table as the tick-tock of Bartlett's grandfather clock held the world intact within its constant metronome.

It had been only a minute, nothing more, but Helena wasn't one for waiting on others, and the fact that Gwen could not decide on something so SIMPLE, so OBVIOUS, grated on her nerves tremendously. “Could you give us some privacy, Magus Bartlett?”

The principal nodded before making for the door. It closed with a soft click, followed by the sound of a long, drawn-out breath.

Helena turned to face her statuesque daughter, surveying her scion, weighing the worth of her fruit.

Gwen possessed a head of dark and voluminous hair that tumbled down her back like an inky waterfall. Her face was handsome, defined; a trait of her father's. Her brows cried out for a plucking but were nonetheless arched gracefully, her un-mascaraed lashes long and thick. She had a straight, aquiline nose that was graceful and tapered, with well-formed, sculpted lips plump with invitation. Helena loved her daughter's eyes, for they were her own; sometimes emerald, sometimes amber, hazel under a dim light. Gwen's countenance was fair; symmetrical and pleasing to the eye, both from afar and upon close inspection. Below her chin, she possessed a swan's neck that was long and graceful, extending from her sharp shoulder blades and ending in a shallow dimple. Still lower, her shoulders were bony, which would have to go, though her long arms were slender and unobtrusive. Across her bosom, Helena measured with dissatisfaction that her daughter would not be dazzling anyone with her unobtrusive bust, at least not without a certain amount of padded charlatanism. They were a good shape though, and there was potential in perhaps another year or two. Finally, her well-loved eyes fell upon Gwen's lower limbs; these were Helena's pride and joy. The girl had long and slender legs that made her move and walk with effortless grace. They were perfect, be it her tightly formed buttocks, her rounded thighs or her elegant calves and ankles.

Helena smacked her lips enviously; she struggle to summon any sympathy for her foolish daughter, wasting her time here with these plebeians.

Didn’t she understand the weight of her talent, the gift of her otherworldly beauty?

The men who enrolled in these elite schools, their sons and their nephews, the senators, the CEOs, and most importantly, the Magus and Magisters with their protégées, saw Lilith's as the source of their spouses.

They would go mad for a girl like Gwen.

Helena knew this because she had been there. She was the top girl. She was going to have that life of being paired with the scion of a great house, of becoming someone of import. She could imagine it even now, the life she had missed out by impulsively marrying Gwen’s father to spite her father and brother.

But Gwen could have all that. She hated to admit it, but she was better equipped than herself. Gwen was a rare Quasi-Elementalist. She was a beauty. She was born to be put on a pedestal. Didn't she desire a comfortable life? She could marry into one. Was becoming the young wife of a Magister impossible? No. Not for her daughter. Not with the gift of her blood and talent.

Helena's cleavage rose and fell; her eyes sparkled like jewels.

“Gwen.” Helena’s voice was a siren's song. “You know what is good for you.”

Her mother’s hands enveloped Gwen's fingers. Helena's hands were flaming hot, Gwen’s cold and shivering.

“Please, Gwen,” she said again. “This is for your own good.”

As her mother’s scalding fingers grasped her wrists, Gwen almost let loose a shriek of agony, as though she had been branded by irons shackles.

NO!

No, I am not going anywhere, this is my life! Gwen screamed internally as an indignant spark ignited her Astral Body. MOVE IT! She commanded her sleeping body. MOVE IT, YOU USELESS WAIF!

As though heeding her call, her Evocation Sigil was suddenly ablaze, sending a torrent of energy to flow through her elemental gates, ravaging her mana conduits.

OH SHIT!

A surge of cobalt-white lightning erupted from her hands and struck her mother full in the chest. For a second, comically, Gwen thought she could see Helena’s skeleton.

As a trained Mage, Helena's body resisted Gwen's untamed lightning. Even so, she was momentarily stunned. Below Gwen's mother, Bartlett's leather chair erupted, spurting blue-white plasma. The carpet singed as a Lichtenberg figure carved itself into the cashmere wool.

More importantly, Gwen's letter of acceptance burst into flames.

“What’s the matter?!”

When in the next moment, Bartlett intruded into his room, what he saw made him choke.

The annoying harpy had been thunderstruck, her perfect hair now a mess of standing static. Her cream dress was soiled by burns that had disintegrated some of the fabric. Furthermore, Barlett's antique visitor’s chair had gone the way of the dodo.

“Are… are you all alright?” Principal Bartlett enquired worriedly. Bloody oath, that chair was one of a kind!

Gwen, meanwhile, was beginning to realise her monumental fuck up, her mind suddenly magnificent with panic and paranoia. She had gotten her body back, but now she had deep fried her mother.

How would Helena respond? Threaten her? Sue her? Strike her down? Her mother was vain and proud and sometimes foolish, but she was no idiot. She was the most manipulative and scheming person she knew by far.

“Wonderful,” her mother suddenly spoke, a little ash ejecting from her mouth.

What? Gwen realised this was not a good sign.

I concur, What? Bartlett echoed Gwen's thoughts.

“What a wonderfully channelled blast of Lightning, Gwen! Such pure, raw affinity.” Helena commended before taking her hands from her daughter’s wrists, leaving two black imprints.

Gwen looked at Bartlett, who appeared equally creeped out.

They waited for Helena to continue.

“You attacked me, dearest,” Her mother lamented sadly, her voice calm and collected. “You, an unordained Mage, a mere neophyte, attacked me, a Sanctioned Mage and your parent. Unprovoked.”

Bartlett felt his perfect beard unravel at the audacity of such an accusation.

“Now… Now, Mrs Song,” he interjected.

“Mrs Huang.”

"Mrs Huang, Gwen is not—"

“You better shut up right now, you government plebeian!” Helena’s catty response cracked the air like a whip, her breath fire and brimstone.

Principle Bartlett fell silent, his face turning the colour of cod liver. The woman was a mere Fire Evoker, while he was an accomplished Conjurer. If she weren't a parent, he wouldn't have minded teaching her a lesson in manners.

“As for you,” her mother continued, smoothing out her ruined hair with her hands.

“You owe me, Gwen Song,” she spat finally from between gnashing teeth. “If you at all want to continue your career as a Mage, you better start listening to those who care about you.”

Her mother stood, now worse for wear. She raised a hand, and from thin air materialised a cream and chequered coat.

A Ring of Storage… Principal Bartlett noted. An uncommon thing in the Frontier cities. Only the wealthy and the influential could possess such incredulous magical items. He was a Magus, a senior one at that, but his Ring belonged to the school and the title. Was Helena a member of a notable House? If so, why was her daughter as poor as a church mouse!

“I am leaving,” Helena declared coldly. “Lilith's or no, I expect to see you at your uncle's manor this weekend; Kwan has requested to see you. Know that you brought this on yourself, ungrateful child. I did my due diligence as your mother.”

Then like a departing storm, she was gone.

Gwen and her principal met each other from across the room.

“I am sorry about the chair, sir,” Gwen apologised, unsure of what else to say.

“Think nothing of it.” He shot her a worried look. “I’ll do what I can for you, Gwen, but ease up on the mana leaks.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Bartlett watched the girl amble dejectedly from his office before he sat in his surviving chair. He could imagine Helena holding a grudge with the tenacity of a Gila Monster’s genetic memory.

Once outside, Gwen loosened her tie, pulled out her shirt, then made her skirt comfortable.

Her uncle's manor…

She hadn't seen Uncle Kwan since the family had broken up.

Her uncle’s compound was in North Sydney, not far from Kirribilli. She recalled the place was vast and pretentious, a brute of a building with an undeserving view of Sydney Harbour.

“Or else,” her mother had warned.

Rationally, at least for now, she had no other options.

She sighed, feeling more drained than ever.

It didn't take a Diviner to know her near future was going to suck.

Chapter sixteen

The House of Huang

“I’ll burn their manor down.” Yue was a bar away from busting a gasket.

“It’s fine. It's fine.” Gwen patted her hand. “I’ll be in and out in half a day, just showing my face.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be alright?” Elvia hugged her pillow with a face full of worries. “I’ve been to a few of these things before, but thankfully people thought I was twelve.”

“What things?” Yue became instantly suspicious.

“Nothing, just a meet and greet.” Gwen tried to pass the matter off, but Elvia was terrible at misdirection.

“Evee, tell me everything,” Yue commanded.

Gwen tried her best to stop Elvia blurting out the truth, but Yue was relentless.

“It’s… a marriage meeting thing,” Elvia began nervously.

“Are you shitting me?” The Fire Evoker exploded as expected, making Gwen flinch. “Gwen, your stupid family is selling you off?”

“I am not going to let that happen!” Gwen promised.

“Well, if you’re not back in school before we have to go to the Field Trip,” Yue spat between snarling lips, “I am going to burn the place down.”

“They have guards in places like those,” Elvia added. “My dad has one that follows him wherever he goes as well, although Lukas is more like an uncle. You don't want to make trouble for your mum, right, Yue?"

Yue grunted unhappily. “Bah, Gwen, promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I’ll try,” Gwen answered, wishing that she could be as sure of her circumstances as Yue's determination to become an arsonist.

The team practised as usual on Friday, rested, then planned out the final details on Saturday. Gwen informed Jun and Henley that she would have to visit family on Sunday, and the team promised to pack for her so that upon her return on Sunday night, she would be ready to leave with the first coach on Monday.

Sheepishly, Gwen unveiled “that” particular part of her closet, with both Elvia and Yue baulking at the excess. She had to dress to impress; that was undoubtedly a part of the deal. Something classy but cute, petite and svelte. Something that “sold” her. Elvia and Yue bickered over her choices until Gwen picked out a china-blue sleeveless Sunday dress modelled after Ming porcelain; yet another gift she couldn't afford. Yue had Elvia help to style her hair, creating a dense, messy bun of loose coils with a loose fringe framing her face. After thickly applying mascara, Gwen's lashes gained the curvature and rigidity of scimitars. To finish, she plumped her lips with a coat of gloss.

She then opened a suitcase that she kept on top of the cabinet and removed from it another dazzling assortment of accessories and a half-dozen pair of shoes. With a backdrop of squealing girls, Gwen selected a pair of wedge sandals in a shade which was pleasing when worn with the dress.

“That amulet suits the dress nicely,” Elvia remarked.

Gwen’s fingers touched the jade Kirin hanging from her neck.

Oh yeah, Dad! She blinked. Should she call her father? But the answer was no. When facing Helena, her father was as helpful as tits on a bull.

“Oh my God, Gwennie.” Yue could scarcely breathe. “Marry me right now.”

Elvia fiercely agreed.

“Hopefully, I won’t have to do this too often,” Gwen remarked. Even with help, dressing up was a tremendous undertaking.

In the hallway, she was met with violent gasps and sudden intakes of breath. Inside the elevator, other passengers stared. Considering the state of Sydney's public transport, Gwen gritted her teeth and called for a private cab. Perversely, her driver kept his eyes on her far too long and almost had an accident before they made it across the Harbour Bridge until finally, heart-in-mouth, passenger and driver pulled into Kirribilli.

The cab rolled into a parking bay circulating the manor's frontage, gaudily decorated with a gigantic statue of a sea-shelled Aphrodite in her radiant glory, ejaculating two streams of water from her nipples. As Gwen pulled up at the frontage, a suited, black-visored guard threw a fifty through the driver’s side window before opening the door for Gwen.

YES! Fifty bucks SAVED. Gwen mentally fist-pumped.

Uncle Kwan’s extensive property had a harbour facing view. The manor was a freestanding sanctuary of exclusivity, space and opulence, possessing a modern facade of four open levels bathed in natural light, with floors dressed in French oak and walls in antique white.

“Please follow me, ma’am,” the guard intoned with reverence, taken aback by the guest’s feminine presence. Gwen followed, noting the prevalence of dark-suited men patrolling the compound.

I guess Yue’s not burning this house down, Gwen remarked sourly. What the hell did her uncle do, anyway? The bloody mansion reminded her of a mafioso movie set.

“GWEN! MY LOVELY NIECE!”

A voice like rolling thunder boomed across the hallway. Gwen stiffened as all eyes in the room shifted toward her, pinning her with their hawkish gaze.

Well shit, so much for subtlety. Gwen sighed internally.

“Uncle! I missed you so much,” she sang out thrillingly, hoping the effort was sensational enough to satisfy him.

Kwan Huang was a giant of a man, made larger than life by his preference for loose polo shirts and baggy pants. Overweight and overbearing, Kwan roved and loomed wherever he went. Unlike Gwen's mother, Kwan appeared to have gained the lion’s share of the Huang's South East Asian heritage inherited from their grandfather. The man's face was one that gave an air of benevolence, which Gwen knew was a mask for his chilling ruthlessness. In the years since the family’s rise to riches, Kwan had gotten fat and bulbous; not thick in the way that white men grew heavy, with their beer-bellies, but swelling like a durian, with spikes to match.

Thumping the floor, her uncle came on like a storm. Gwen felt his uninvited, mitt-sized hands wrap around her ribs, lifting her with ease off the ground as he pressed the air from her ribcage. The upward draft caused her skirt to hoist dangerously, forcing her to pat down her hem lest the audience enjoyed a free show.

When she became sufficiently disorientated by the embarrassment, he set her down facing the crowd of stickybeak onlookers.

“Beautiful!” he bellowed, a little puffed out from the performance. “I remember doing that when you were a little girl, but you’re a young lady now, Gwen.”

“I’ve missed you, Uncle.”

Kwan slipped an arm around her elbow and towed her behind him. In the open living room, the assembly of guests intensely scrutinised the tall blue flower bewilderingly brought into their midst.

“Helena's been hiding you from us, hmm?” Kwan announced jovially. His arm was as strong as a bear's. “I heard the good news, Gwen. You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

“It’s nothing, Uncle.” Gwen tried to retrieve the arm she'd lost to a bear trap. She tried to keep up with her long striding uncle, the wedge heels making progress both awkward and painful.

“Bosh! You are the best thing that has happened to us for a long time,” her uncle noted. “Except Richard, of course, but that’s old news.”

“How is Aunty doing?”

“Well; very well. Tali's with a client at the moment, but you’ll see her soon enough. She has been asking about you nonstop since the news broke.” Kwan’s voice had a kind of projective force to it, giving Gwen the impression that he never spoke to just one person.

Soon they seemed to have reached their first stop.

“Patrick! My boy! Come here. I want you to meet the belle of the ball!”

Gwen watched a young man saunter toward them. Patrick wore a dawn-tinted shirt paired with grey herringbone pants and brown leather oxfords.

“Kwan, is this the niece you were boasting about? She’s stunning! Stunning, I tell you!” An older man’s eyes roved up and down Gwen’s body, making her skin crawl. “Patrick, come and greet Gwen. Show some of those gentlemanly manners I’ve been paying through the nose for.”

“My lady.” Patrick bowed. Gwen marvelled that his hair didn’t move a millimetre.

“Gwen.” Gwen returned a curtsy. Her mother loved curtsies.

Patrick’s eyes could have shot sparks. “Patrick Oliver.” He offered her an arm.

Kwan’s grin extended from ear to ear. “Not so soon!” He roared with laughter, joined by the older European gent. “We’ve still got the round to make. After that, you young people can get privately acquainted.”

And make the rounds they did.

Gwen met an assortment of young men anxious for her company, joined by a few girls whose eyes weren't nearly as friendly. There were younger children present too, but they were far too interested in chasing one another around the house.

“Looking a little too eager there, Derrick!” Kwan roared as he and yet another older man shook and slapped one another on the back.

The young man who introduced himself as Derrick had a lean and hungry look about him that made Gwen uncomfortable. The boy wasn't bad looking, possessing a firm jaw and a compact body, brown eyes and cropped hair that screamed military cadet. Gwen recalled that Derrick's father had stated the boy was a cadet. This guy looks way too sketchy, Gwen recoiled. Not to mention the boy tried to pull Gwen toward him when they shook, forcing Uncle Kwan to cough discourteously, which made Derrick's father flustered and irate.

Finally, when all the introductions were finished, Kwan released Gwen into the middle of his spacious living room. There, she levelled her dress and felt the noon sun providing much-needed warmth on her bare legs.

If she were an actual teenager, perhaps she would have enjoyed the attention and the flattery, but knowing what she knew, she felt ill.

In the next moment, Kwan’s booming voice circulated the house. “Gwen, a demonstration, please! Your best spell!”

She moved towards her uncle, who directed her onto a dais that placed her at the centre of the middle deck.

So now I am showroom model, Gwen reflected sardonically. Only there’s no car, and I am the product on display.

To her surprise, a series of targets appeared in the bay some thirty metres away, rising from the sea to form little dummies roughly the size and shape of a man. She looked around the room and sensed the presence of Conjuration magic.

“Gwen, your very best!” Uncle Kwan’s eyes met her own. An understanding passed between them. The display was not a request.

Well, this is why I am here. Gwen accepted her role as a show pony. Bear with it, she told herself. Delay until she can figure something out.

“Of course, Uncle,” she replied with a smile.

She turned to the targets and used the refractory method taught by Alesia to ping the spatial latitude and longitude of her quarry.

“Guiding Bolt!” She incanted theatrically. From the blue above, a bolt of purple ion struck the watery targets, affecting an impressive splash.

The crowd nodded with satisfaction at the girl’s rare talent.

“Blast Bolt!” Gwen channelled more than half of her reserve, delivering a tempest of cobalt bolts, sending the water into a frenzy of emerald-white fissures. A small tsunami washed over the concrete seawall facing the property, bowling over the garden’s prized azaleas.

The assembly erupted into thunderous applause.

“Beautiful!” Uncle Kwan announced again, raising a toast to his darling niece.

A smudge of rouge appeared on Gwen’s cheeks while she recovered, casting her inadvertently in a more feminine light. The applause continued for some time.

Without a drink to toast, Gwen curtsied before fleeing the platform.

Some distance away, in the privacy of the garden, she caught her breath. Her head throbbed, combining a migraine with hunger and thirst.

“Gwen, it’s good to see you.”

Gwen twirled to face the new voice and found it to be the familiar face of Kwan's wife. Aunt Tali was an unassuming looking woman of tremendous ability, said by many to be the sole reasons for the rise of House Huang. She was a shrewd businesswoman, well connected, always smiling and amiable in Gwen’s recollections.

There was a young man beside her. He was tall like her uncle, lean of body, clean shaven, with a pair of horned-rim glasses. Under Gwen’s learned gaze, he gave off a jovial air, as though laughing at a joke only he could comprehend. The young man was Richard Huang, the prevailing heir, the hopes and dreams of House Huang.

Gwen knew of her cousin but had only met him twice. As a boy, Richard had Awoken early in the School of Conjuration. Like a broken record, Helena had bitterly complained that Richard was slated for greatness at Prince’s. Then, after a melodramatic sigh, Helena would regard her daughter as though she was a squib, shaking her head tragically. The old Gwen’s response was to bury her head in her pillow until she water-boarded herself with tears.

Suddenly, Richard opened his mouth to speak.

“Both the blonde dickhead and the depressing jarhead are from Prince’s.” He coolly observed. “They should be useful to you in school if you go to Lilith's; their family is well connected. Don't be surprised if they get a little handsy, though. They're virgins.”

What? Gwen blinked. Were her ears deceiving her?

“Richard, be kind to your cousin!” Aunty Tali stabbed her son in the foot with her kitten heels. “Say something nice.”

“Nice dress,” Richard replied in the same tone, then seemed to remember that he needed to say something nice about Gwen too. “Nice legs.”

“…” Aunty looked apologetically at Gwen, “Richard doesn’t hang around with many girls, Prince's is an all-boys school.”

“It’s alright aunty.” Gwen felt both amused and bemused , curious at the strange turn. “Do you like my dress? It’s from Mother.”

She twirled for him, her hem lifting a little from the centrifugal force. She watched his eyes shift up and down, his attention back toward her eyes.

“You are stunning,” Richard stated, his demeanour slipping just a tad before correcting himself. "I like you, Cousin Gwen."

“You are certainly very charming, Gwen.” Aunty nodded approvingly, her eyes feasting on her niece. “I have no idea why your mother has such impeccable taste for your dresses, but never for herself.”

Gwen returned their compliments with a smile. She had no idea if Aunty Tali was genuine in her speech or just playing along, but she felt far more comfortable speaking to her than to her uncle, who gave the distinct impression he was trying to hawk her to the highest bidder.

“Is Mother here?” Gwen asked.

“Not on her life, no.” Aunt Tali smirked. “Don’t mind it; you know she can’t stand these things. Half of these young men’s fathers duelled to be her fiancé back way when. I don’t think she would want to meet their spouses."

“How about you, Richard?” Gwen pivoted to him, happy that her mother was absent. "How's life?"

“I am a prefect, at Prince’s,” Richard spoke in the manner of someone rattling off the weather, only a soft curl to his lips betrayed the clockworks ticking behind his eyes. “Also vying for Four Houses.”

“That’s wonderful, Richard,” Gwen cooed at him. She rather liked the young man and his stoic manner of speaking, a sharp contrast to the words-within-words that Kwan and Tali utilised by default.

“Richard, you better let your cousin go before someone challenges you.” Aunty pointed to a half a dozen young men waiting in the gardens to speak to Gwen. “Not that anyone would stand a chance.”

“Their abilities are subpar,” intoned Richard with the surety of a sage. “They spend too much time whoring and drinking. Gwen should beware. Maybe she should be my companion instead. What do you say, jailbait?”

“Richard!” Aunty Tali gave him another heel-in-foot.

“Think of them as social currency, use and toss.” Richard dispensed more world advice. “You could benefit by playing along.”

Holy shit, Richard is a wunderkind, Gwen found herself gazing upon her cousin with genuine wonder. How bloody talented do you have to be to survive an aristocratic school of arseholes with a mouth like that?

Growling, Tali took Richard away, leaving her alone in the garden. Within a minute, young men flocked to attend the pale blue rose, each one a desirous bee buzzing for her attention. She instantly recognised Patrick as the blonde and Derrick was the jarhead — Richard indeed possessed an eye for detail.

“So, my dad manages the Suncorp Mana-link Division.” Patrick began an exposition about his family and his connections in the manner of a man trying to hawk snake oil. “We’re from Prince’s.”

Small talk came and went, flitting from topics of Spellcraft to competition, politics to the latest trends. The wide range of issues made Gwen awkwardly aware of just how little she knew about the world outside Blackwattle. When she told them that was her school, the boys became flabbergasted. To these elite academy youngsters, she truly was a Frontier bumpkin.

“You must be thirsty, let me get you a drink,” Patrick volunteered.

“Thanks, Pat.” She nodded courteously at him. "Could I trouble you for some canapés as well?"

Patrick waltzed away happily.

God, I am famished, Gwen caught a smidgen of bile in on her tongue. Hopefully, Patrick could make good on his promise.

“Ergh…” She caught a whiff of alcohol an inch from her neck.

What the fuck? Gwen spun so quickly that her heel caught on a wayward boot. Before she could recover, a pair of invasive hands cupped her waist, pulling them closer towards their owner. When she finally reorientated, she found herself in the midst of being roughly manhandled by Derrick, whose face was flushed with excitement and whose hands took on a wandering quality.

Resist. RESIST. Gwen screamed internally. DON’T BLOW HIM UP.

She imagined herself NOT channelling mana, NOT allowing her Evocation Sigil to flare up, NOT turning Derek into a white-hot human torch.

Derek seemed pleased with his suave manoeuvre. Seeing the girl with her eyes half-closed, he had assumed her a willing participant.

His hand began to move.

Someone besides them chuckled.

Well, fuck it. Gwen reached for the offending limb.

"Ligh—!"

“Whoa there, tiger!” A piercing voice, resonant like a chorus of archangels rang out across the garden. “You must never touch a lady without her permission!”

Gwen turned to stare at the unexpected but heartening appearance of Alesia, her instructor, striding radiantly on red stiletto heels, floating across the French oak floors like a flaming flower.

Derek withdrew his hands, then stood to attention like a ramrod.

“Begone, cadet, before you disappear permanently.” Alesia's rebuke snapped across Derek's face like a whip. Turning about-face, Gwen’s offender fled before he could be lit like a match.

Patrick, who had been returning in a huff with drinks in hand, performed a sterling U-turn and disappeared into the crowd.

“My, my!” Uncle Kwan’s booming voice echoed across the room. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Boss Huang,” Alesia’s tone hinted at her disdain.

“Kwan will do,” Gwen’s uncle replied. “Hell, the Scarlet Sorceress can call me whatever she wants.”

“Miss De Botton.” Aunty joined them cautiously.

“I love your propaganda vids,” Richard joined the fray, saluting. “I am Richard.”

“Why, thank you, Richard.” Alesia inclined her head.

Beside the sorceress, Gwen made herself smaller, polymorphed into a mouse.

Tali and Alesia exchanged several rounds of polite banter until finally, Kwan felt offended enough to cut to the chase. “If I may ask, what is someone of your stature doing visiting a lowly merchant like me?”

Alesia looked at Gwen, who had been stunned this whole while.

“I am here for my apprentice,” she finally said.

“I am sorry?”

“What?”

“Can I be your apprentice as well?”

“Not now, Richard.”

“My apprentice, Gwen,” Alesia declared chillingly. “And I am displeased by what I have seen.”

Kwan’s face began to sweat. Tali’s grew a little paler.

“You taking on any new ones?” Richard persisted.

“Sorry, dear, you’re the wrong school and the wrong element.”

“Aww.” Richard regarded the two women with great interest.

Conversely, Kwan was full of wariness. “Is this official? Has Gwen given her consent?”

“Gwen?” Alesia turned to her student.

Gwen's mind was thundering with one surprise after another. Things were going too fast for her to follow, but she knew it was now or never. Her affirmation would piss off her uncle, but seriously, she thought to herself, fuck that guy.

“I would love nothing more than to have you as my Master,” Gwen intoned.

“Teacher, dear.” Alesia pulled Gwen closer. “Master is so old. I am too young to be a Master.”

“You can’t do this.” Kwan’s voice took on a note of warning. “You come into my house, crash my party, and take my niece…”

“Kwan.” Aunty touched her husband’s arm. “Calm yourself.”

“You… you…” Kwan seemed to be working himself up, measuring his options. Around them, Alesia could see the guards converging.

“Try me.” Alesia turned to Kwan boldly. “Are you so clean as to be immune to a good investigation, Boss Huang? Does the concern of Paladin Gunther Shultz tickle a fancy?”

“Ah, er, of course not.” Kwan deflated at the mention of Gunther Shultz.

"I thought as much. But you know what? I am not an unreasonable woman." Alesia tsked. "Here, a fair trade."

The Scarlet Sorceress drew into the folds of her dress and brought forth an envelope, one very similar to the one Gwen’s mother had possessed, embossed with a Sigil of Crown and Sword.

“A commendation for Richard for the Four Houses.” Alesia waved the envelope to and fro. "Only a few of these exist in all of Sydney."

“I could do with a commendation.” Richard instantly brokered the deal, glancing at Gwen and giving her a subtle wink. "Please."

Aunty Tali intercepted her husband's rebuttal by giving him a strongly worded heel in the foot, sending Kwan away groaning and swearing.

“May I?”

Alesia nodded.

Tali unpacked the letter and scanned its contents.

“Deal,” she said quickly, putting the letter on her person before Alesia could change her mind. “Let them leave.”

“And her mother?” Alesia asked.

“I’ll take care of it, for now,” Tali answered briskly. “But Gwen will have to make the call when the time comes.”

“Agreed.” Alesia extended a hand and the two women shook. It was far easier to make a deal between rational, logical and consenting parties. Such was the way of pragmatic women freed from the masculine ego.

Gwen and Alesia watched the guards melt away.

“Teacher?” Gwen still couldn't believe her eyes or her ears. That was it? Was it done?

“Let's get out of here first.”

The two retreated hand-in-hand under the envious gazes of the astonished assembly.

There was a red Alfa Romeo outside, a classic Spider-class convertible with a feminine curvature.

Alesia really likes the colour red, Gwen affirmed.

“Get in, tiger.” Alesia popped the passenger door with a wave of her hand. “It’s a long drive back.”

Chapter seventeen

A New Leaf

The Alfa must have moved a dozen metres in the last ten minutes.

So that’s why it was a long ride ahead, Gwen realised when they finally passed the Harbour Bridge. The Mage-world might be full of magic, but traffic jams were a cardinal rule of any universe.

“We should have changed,” Alesia sulked, full of annoyance as yet another carload of stickybeak passengers wolf-whistled. Gwen tried to sink lower into her seat, but their carmine sports coupe provided no such cover.

Already conspicuous driving down the M1 in a blazing convertible growling like a pissed orc, Alesia and Gwen's dresses and their startlingly gorgeous faces slowed the crawling traffic to a standstill. An SUV of young men out on their Sunday drive had been floating beside them for a good twenty minutes now, resulting in Gwen feeling carsick.

“If this was a tier one city, I could use my flight licence,” Alesia complained bitterly, flipping the bird to yet another driver who drifted too close. Her instructor’s demeanour reminded Gwen of Yue, though Alesia could back her words with force.

“Ma’am,” Gwen asked carefully, “am I your apprentice?”

“Do you want to be my apprentice?” Alesia shot back a red-lipped grin.

“Wouldn’t Yue be a better option? She’s Fire-talented and an Evoker.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Alesia kept her eyes on the road as the traffic began to move. “Do you want to be my apprentice?”

“Can I be honest, ma’am?”

“Shoot.”

“I have no idea what it means to be your apprentice,” Gwen confessed. As an adult, she knew the value of blatant honesty.

"Ha." Alesia laughed. "Okay, Let me explain…"

She informed her that there were Apprentices, and there were “apprentices”. In the classic sense, an Apprentice was someone who stood to inherit the material wealth and mental knowledge of the Master. The exchange was that the apprentice essentially offered free labour for the duration of their apprenticeship, living cheek-to-cheek with his or her master, a domestic servant-cum-student-cum-heir.

In the traditional sense, it made no sense for Gwen to be Alesia’s apprentice. They were held dissimilar elements, meaning a considerable divergence in spell philosophy and theory. Likewise, if Alesia were to fall, her most valuable possession, which was her Scarlet Flame Spirit, could hardly migrate to Gwen, who was not a Fire Mage.

Then, of course, there were the apprentice-in-name. These were more akin to students following a tutor or a postgrad following a professor. These relationships were typically temporal, taken in exchange for some measured outcome, such as researching a particular spell or to mentor one’s alumni.

“I like you, Gwen,” Alesia said after listening to Gwen’s queries. “Hardworking, outspoken. You remind me of myself at your age, though our circumstances are a little different. For one, your parents are arseholes, and mine were eaten alive.”

"Sorry."

"You'll get over it." Alesia brushed back a wayward ringlet. “Let me ask you something, though. I want you to think about it carefully.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you want to attend Lilith and Prince's?” Alesia demanded, much to her surprise. “Do you understand the opportunity you are giving up?”

Gwen ruminated in silence. Pragmatism versus sentimentality made bitter pills with jagged edges. The rational answer was obvious, but she had already walked that path long ago. Was she happy? Arguably. But she had lost people and connections she'd rather keep this time around.

“I want to stay with Yue and Elvia,” Gwen said at last. “There's no meaning to my success if I can’t share it with them.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Alesia seemed pleased with Gwen's answer. “A little romanticism never hurt nobody.”

“So, about the apprenticeship…”

“You’ll be under my protection for now, though I am afraid my regular job will take me places you can't follow. Still, the right people in the right places know who I am, and they’ll either give you a hand or, at least, leave you alone.”

“Am I an apprentice-in-name?” Gwen affirmed softly, a little disappointed.

Alesia laughed, her ultramarine irises sparkling with mirthfulness.

“I may take on Yue, though,” Alesia added nonchalantly. Gwen felt a pang of unbidden jealousy. “She’s a good fit, don’t you think?”

“I think so too,” Gwen answered, dispelling the cramp in her chest. She was too old for peevish envy.

“That means I’ll be taking her with me when the time comes, a few years around the world will do her good,” Alesia continued. “What do you think?”

“It would be her lucky day,” Gwen answered earnestly.

“Well, don’t get her hopes up.” Alesia laughed. “Impress me next week on the Field Trip.”

“We’ll do our best, ma’am.”

They turned off the highway and made for the dorm, driving under the thrum and throttle of the thirsty engine for a few more minutes. Though her heart was a little dejected, she recognised that Alesia had done an incredible thing for her. She owed this woman more than she can begin to repay.

“Miss… Alesia.” Gwen cleared her throat. “Thank you so much for what you did today. I wasn’t sure what I was doing and I had no idea what was going to happen, but you came to my aid when I needed it the most.”

The dorm came into view. Alesia pulled up inside the bay. Around them, students stopped in their tracks to stare.

“It was a favour for Principal Bartlett. Get him some chocolates later,” Alesia informed Gwen cooly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “But I also did it for you, Gwen, because I believe you were worth saving.”

“Thank you, ma’am, for everything.” Gwen bowed her head. Alesia's unexpected kindness was the first time since coming to this world that she had felt such strong passions of dependence. She had Yue, of course, and Elvia, but they were kids—vulnerable and unwise themselves. Alesia was the sort of mentor she needed; someone who could empathise and understand her turmoils.

Seeing Gwen’s worshipful appearance, Alesia’s cheeks took on the likeness of pippins.

“I’ll see you at the camp tomorrow night.” She waved Gwen goodbye. “Get some sleep, tiger. It's going to be a tiring week.”

The girls celebrated Gwen returning in one piece, after which she gave them a play-by-play of what had occurred at the party, finishing with Alesia’s incredible eleventh-hour prevention of Gwen’s involvement in a homicide.

“Those guys are arseholes,” Yue hissed. “That Derrick piece of shit would be missing half a face if he tried to paw me.”

I don’t think anyone would dare to paw Yue, Gwen riposted in her mind.

“Well, Patrick was alright, just a little too hung up on his family’s fortunes,” Gwen continued. “But Richard was the bomb.”

“Your cousin seems cool,” Yue agreed. “Did you see what he could do in a fight?”

“Didn’t get a chance.” Gwen shook her head. “He said he was shortlisted for the Four Courses or something? Instructor Alesia gave him a commendation.”

“The Four Houses,” Elvia interjected.

“What? Are they nobility?” Gwen snorted. “We have aristocrats now?”

“Gwen, do you even read the sociology texts?”

“Well…” She had been so busy playing catch-up and researching her Cognisance phenomena that all non-essential knowledge had fallen by the wayside. “Alright, I am an idiot - I confess my ignorance. Go on.”

Elvia explained that the Greater Schools established in Sydney and Melbourne were not schools founded by the Frontier government, but frontier branches of venerated tier one schools stemming from the old country. The greatest and most prestigious of these schools, Prince’s, had close ties to Cambridge, Oxford, The London College of Magical Arts and the much-lauded Imperial College of London. Each of these major players had established a House, an alumni club of sorts, which handpicked talented students to be “elevated” from their meagre Frontier origins.

Ah, that’s probably what Principal Bartlett was extolling, Gwen thought. The privilege of avoiding mandatory military service, citizenship in a tier one city and attending ancient institutions to learn genuine Spellcraft.

“You know, Elvia, it’s been bugging me for a while, but why are you not attending a school like Lilith's?” Yue demanded after listening to Elvia’s exposition into a world she’d had no idea existed.

Elvia’s sapphire irises met Gwen’s, and the girls read on their friend’s pale face a self-evident answer. If someone like Gwen could be gobbled up by such a world, what chance did Elvia have?

“Right, sorry I asked.” Yue withdrew apologetically.

“Father said it was best if I made normal friends and marry away from those… people,” Elvia replied. "I don't regret it. I am thrilled I got to meet both of you.”

“Me too, Evee.”

“Me three,” Gwen declared.

“Alright, let's kick some arse starting tomorrow,” Yue announced. “We have to pay back Miss Alesia.”

"How can we not?" Gwen quipped. "Aren't we the dynamic trio?!”

They were up bright and early, each lugging a backpack tied down with bedrolls and supplies. Their prim uniforms had been replaced by sports uniforms, which consisted of tapered t-shirts. The girls had the choice of dry-fibre skirts spats or shorts with knee socks, and the boys had the option of tracks or shorts with tall socks. Elvia and Yue felt comfortable in their skirts, but Gwen preferred spats.

Wish I had a Storage Ring, Gwen pondered as she hoisted her backpack. She had a portion of Elvia’s supply too because weighted down, the small girl resembled a blonde-haired snail. Elvia had mentioned that her family possessed a few Storage Rings, though she lacked access to the rare device, as losing one would be akin to totalling a Mercedes.

Their coach was a regular old bus with spotty air conditioning, rumbling as it made its way towards the Shield Barriers. As the excursion approached the limits of human habitation, Gwen recognised the risen forms of Shield Towers stabbing the sky, each sheathed within nigh-impenetrable rectangular buildings called Shield Forts.

The forts were akin to cannon fortifications used to defend against the Beast Tides, enchanted to be self-repairing and damage-resistant. From the tip of the protruding tower, a single mana crystal, gargantuan beyond belief, could be seen half-hidden. In Senior Spellcraft, Gwen and company learnt that these artificially constructed towers could project resonance barriers spanning hundreds of kilometres. A skilled Barrier-Abjurer could alter the height, thickness and even elemental affinity of the shields to deal with threats against the human cities.

“Hey Gwen, your father is a Barrier Mage, right?” someone on the bus asked.

“Yeah, not here though.” Gwen had no idea where her father was stationed. Even in her old life, her father hadn’t been forthcoming about his employment, merely stating that he “worked for the council”.

At the checkpoint, a team of border staff screened and scanned the bus for anything questionable, after which bus penetrated the obsidian gates, moving from city to Wildland.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” the baritone voice's owner was their survivalist instructor, Ranger Boone. “We are now beyond the sanctuary of the shield wall. You have just taken your first step into the real world.”

A clamour resonated across the coach. Boone waited for the kids to be quiet.

“Our base camp is another two hours away,” he orientated the students. “Groups one to five will be going to site Alpha, and Groups six to nine, that’s us, will be going to site Beta.

“Instructors and medical staff will be onsite at all times in the main base camp. Your job is to accomplish, at a minimum, three of the five objectives. On the third day, you will report for roll call in the main base camp before returning to your designated camping sites.

“Roll call!” The instructor announced, producing a “phone” that Gwen now knew acted as a Divination powered tracker. Each of the students had theirs issued when they enrolled. Their instructor’s variant possessed the ability to track secondary devices.

These Magitech constructs were of intense interest to Gwen, who’d lived through the explosive informative age of the internet’s exponential world dominion in the naughties. Unfortunately, she had yet had an opportunity to investigate such matters for supposedly, the Frontier possessed only hand-me-downs.

“Sync-check your devices. They are augur-locked to reveal your location and inform us in the event of serious harm or injury.” Boone repeated a few times what he'd been drilling into the students. “DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT be separated from your device for any reason and do not give your device to anyone else.”

Outside the window, Gwen watched the sparse shrubbery turn to bushland and finally into forests of swarthy blue gums twisting their white branches like human limbs.

“Gwen, your device,” Boone’s voice snapped beside her.

“Here you are, sir.” She produced her Message Device and watched it play through a series of beeps that informed the user it had synced.

“Good luck.” He nodded. “The principal has high hopes for your group.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Concrete bitumen gave way to roads paved with crushed stone, then finally became dusty fire trails of dusty earth.

The central base basecamp consisted of a few permanent concrete structures spanning an area no more than a football field. One was a two-tier structure with glass windows that served as the instructors’ residence. Another was the meeting hall, a fortification suitable for hosting a hundred or so adults.

The most valuable building, however, was the one attached to the instructors’ dwelling. It was a large, communal outhouse-hybrid-bathroom, and from the looks of it, it had a shower section.

Jun and Henley met with their female counterparts after the second bus alighted.

Each of the pre-assigned teams formed up, gave their well-wishes, then made for their designated areas by tracking their progress on a handheld map.

We’d better not get lost. Gwen looked at the map worryingly. She had barely passed orienteering.

“Hey!” A voice called out as they reached the edge of the campsite. The group turned to see Debora and her trio of Transmuters. To their shock, she had cropped her beautiful ponytail and now sported a pixie cut.

“Debs!” Gwen greeted her childhood friend.

“May the best woman win!” Debora called out across the camp.

“WE’LL KICK YOUR ASS!” Yue announced confidently, her voice like a thunderclap.

Debora flipped them the bird before disappearing into the bush.

As the group made its way through an undergrowth that quickly grew difficult, Gwen took a moment to take it all in, measuring the “Wildland” up against the “wilderness” of her old world.

Following a paper map, their designated fire trail led over a ridge and down a gully. Along the way, ring-barked forests stretched like gnarly fingers amongst overgrown ferns and chaotic, hoary grass.

“Look at that!” Yue pointed, and the group noted an enormous eucalyptus over thirty metres in height, with a semi-hollowed trunk resembling the mouth of an open cavern. Within, resin crystals had formed where insects and the natural elements had eaten away the wood, giving the impression of a distorted maw weeping blood.

“Blood Gum,” Jun observed. “Henley, anything?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Henley replied after blasting the spectacle with a few Detection spells.

The group continued to moved via the trained formation to which they had become accustomed, carefully foraging through the bushland for potential dangers.

“One target, six o’clock, elevated, stationary, medium,” Henley announced suddenly. The group halted. Jun readied himself.

An adult goanna—a black brute of a beast—made its lazy way down the side of a tree. It was only two-meters, but to the students, it felt enormous, larger than life. They watched its beady eyes measuring them with neither interest nor hostility, a forked tongue flicking this way and that.

“Do we kill it?”

“It’s just fauna. Leave it,” Jun advised. “No benefit in killing something like that.”

The thing moved closer out of curiosity.

“Or not…” Yue swallowed, allowing a fiery spark to escape her hand. She had been apprehensive of snakes and reptiles since she was a child.

“Wait.” Jun laid down a small barrier of frost, which seemed to deter the reptilian creature, directing it away from the group.

“Fuck me,” Yue breathed out. “They're bigger in real life.”

“They grow up to six metres,” Elvia stated helpfully.

Yue's skin came alive with goosebumps. “Let's keep moving.”

The group made it to their designated camping area and had the rest of the afternoon to build their shelters. Alesia had taught the group, who lacked a Utility Mage, some cheap and easy tricks to create housing, such as using ice to lock branches and other components in place before tying them with rope and securing them against trees. Though nowhere as competent as what the Transmuters or earthen Abjurers could construct, the group nonetheless manage to finish their shelters just as the sun began to fade, elevated and hoisted above the ground to avoid snakes and insects.

“Alright, that’s one objective accomplished,” Jun declared after inspecting their work. “Some light, please?”

“Dancing Lights.” Both Gwen and Yue laid down some glowing lights that illuminated the area in six-metre increments. Yue’s were the warm glow of daylight, while Gwen’s had the cold quality of the electro-illumination used on public transports.

“What’s for dinner?” Yue asked.

“Got it covered,” Elvia began pulling out an assortment of instant noodles, as well as a stock pot. “Let's eat something yummy today before we have to hunt Wildland game tomorrow.”

“Could have taken that goanna, actually,” Henley suggested. “Maybe it tastes alright?”

Yue made a gagging noise.

“I brought Spam,” Gwen announced happily, producing a few cans of her favourite mystery meat.

They made a controlled magical flame beneath the pot and heated a big batch of spicy noodles. Elvia had also brought a dozen plates and cups fabricated by Transmuter manufactorums into lightweight, sturdy materials that reminded Gwen of durable plastic.

“Alarm.”

Jun laid down a perimeter spell that would set off an audible ping should any undesignated creatures penetrate its coverage.

The group ate and washed up with some melted ice made by Jun.

After a brief clean up, they rolled out their sleeping bags. Yue and Elvia shared a shelter as Elvia was tiny and Yue was rather petite herself. Gwen could barely fit into the humpy she had made and had to sleep by curling into a foetal position. The two boys slept separately.

The group laid out a watch order before retiring for the night.

A persistent Continual Flame kept the perimeter lit; it was still far too terrifying for the girls to sleep in the complete darkness of the Wildlands without the comforting light pollution of the city to assure them that the Shield Barriers were operational.

Yue and Elvia chatted in the humpy next door. Gwen was alone with her thoughts, thinking about Instructor Alesia, about her friends, about the quest ahead, feeling her eyelids grow heavy as darkness fell.

Chapter eighteen

First Blood

Gwen and her companions were up at the first light, awoken by the Message which began to play on their devices.

“Good morning, students. Your first objective is to proceed to Zeta as indicated on your map and return with the marker. Scores are rewarded for the number of encounters, the speed of progress and the number of kills. The maximum allowance for this task is two days. Good hunting!”

So the party's first task is a Purge. Gwen exhaled. It was the most common quest given to Mages by Frontier governing bodies.

In places where the Wildlands overlap Human cities, Magical Beasts had to be routinely exterminated to prevent the accumulation of mana that gave rise to bigger, stronger beasts. This was because neglecting the self-perpetuating creatures of the Wildlands inevitably led to a Beast Tide; a tsunami of flesh, teeth and claws ranging from numberless swarmlings to Titan-class monstrosities.

After WWII, Cryptozoologists had determined that if a region was regularly “burnt off”, elemental mana, as well as breaches into the Elemental Planes could be dispersed. Furthermore, the harvesting of Creature Cores, a resource for empowering human artifice, made frequent Purges a necessity of industry.

In a resource-rich region like Sydney, specialist Hunter-Killer parties set out deep into the Wildland, searching for rare game. Closer to the cities, low-ranking Mages engaged in large-scale canvasing of Green and Orange Zones.

Before they set off, the party stowed excess gear in their elevated shelters, as food and equipment left behind by human adventurers often attracted curious Magical Creatures.

“Marching order.” Jun watched his teammates move into place.

As the crow flew, Zeta was only half a day away. In reality, the terrain involved descending into a gorge to reach the opposite plateau. Still, the party was confident that they could retrieve the objective flag at Zeta and return to camp by nightfall.

“Just like we practised,” Jun implored his companions. “Let's move out!”

Gwen forced herself to relax her pinched nerves. Sleeping in the humpy had given her insomnia, the insects had kept her awake and she had a sore back from sleeping on her side.

I could kill for a latte, she inwardly grumbled. If we could ambush a pack of double-shot flat whites, it would be perfect.

The group's first encounter happened only half an hour later.

“Stop. Twelve o`clock. Small. A dozen, give or take.”

Christ! A dozen? A surge of adrenaline shook Gwen from her stupor. The group paused in its tracks, waiting for the approach of whatever Henley predicted was ahead. Remaining in formation, the party hid behind cover, staying perfectly still, taking advantage of the thick blue gums.

The foliage soon revealed, as anticipated, Goblinoids, or more precisely, Gobs, nasty little things born from rot and fungi; a half-formed, semi-sentient Goblin. Their present region of the Coastal Track was thick with motes of Earth and Water mana and thus served as a hallowed breeding ground for these little creatures. That was the reason for the fire trail on which the team travelled; to enable regular back-burning.

Thankfully, the creatures were clearly dull-witted. Though Jun stood no more than three metres away, half his face visibly sweating, the Gobs ignored him, appearing preoccupied with baser instincts elsewhere.

“…” The Abjurer made the gesture for AoE.

“Barrage!”

In the next moment, the Gobs were engulfed by a shower of fiery death.

“Ice Field!” Jun snuffed the last of Yue's fires,

The others watched Elvia dig through the corpses for Creature Cores. Their healer was trained in suturing and triage, and apparently, also in butchery.

Their first official combat yielded ten vicious little Gobs, enough for Henley to make a report.

Gwen studied the humanoid creatures, observing Elvia's work. Gobs were humanoid in shape but shared little in common with terrestrial animals of non-magical origin. Though their bodies possessed a skeleton, muscle fibres, as well as green ichor for blood, they had tiny brains more akin to jagged silica than flesh.

Gingerly, Elvia extracted a bulbous sack, sliced it open, then sighed as she poured out shattered shards of broken glass.

Gwen choked down a gulp of bile. Even in her old world, she never liked going to the butcher’s directly. She preferred buying meat that was prepackaged, or better yet, ready cooked.

Elvia washed her hands using water from Yue’s canteen. Without a water Mage, the group had opted to create ice in their metal canteens via Jun, then had Yue warm the metal containers.

“Don't worry. Let's keep going.”

The party's next encounter consisted of horrific insects known as Mozzies, dangerous bloodsucking things that lived deep in the gullies, emerging only to feed.

“Incoming! Three o'clock! Closest to Yue!” By the time Henley delivered his warning, the buzzing din was upon them.

Jun immediately laid down his best Shield—a stacking array of three ice membranes which completely covered Yue while leaving enough visibility for her to still cast spells. As a brittle element, Ice functioned more effectively as reactive armour.

The first Mozzie struck the ice shield with the force of a spear fired from a ballista, piercing the first layer before hitting the second. The second and third flew around the shield array and tried to stab Yue with their serrated syringes. The detour, however, had slowed their movements enough for Yue to strike.

"Flaming Hands!"

A flash of fire smothered the left flank of their formation, blasting a Mozzie from the air with a magnificent pyrotechnic display. A second Mozzie slammed into Yue's Blast Shield, triggering the reactive surface, sending it skittering to one side.

"Blast Bolt!"

A lightning arc snapped the third, tearing it limb from limb. Jun summoned another Ice Shield and crushed the first between the two layers. The Mozzie which Yue had earlier seared, flopped about before finally succumbing to the heat, cooked in its carapace.

With the adrenaline of the moment dying with the embers, Gwen surveyed her party for injury. Shockingly, a scrabbling claw had swiped Yue's shoulder, covering one side of her body with blood.

“Yue!” Gwen took her friend by the arm. "Oh my God! Are you alright?"

“It's fine." Yue winced. "One of its forelegs must have nicked me when it did the fly-by.”

“I got this, don’t worry.” Elvia used the canteen to flush the wound of contaminants. Gwen flinched as though she was the one with the flesh wound.

“Healing Word!”

The party watched as the wound mended. Such was the boon of having a Cleric on the team. Without Elvia, they would have had to stop for first aid. Had the wound been worse, a full retreat would have been necessary.

As Yue recovered, Elvia dissected the insects.

The bugs were better fleshed out than the Gobs, containing a full complement of what Gwen expected in drone-sized vermin.

“Giant mosquitos.” Yue whistled, giving her arm a stretch. Muscles always ached and throbbed after a healing spell. “What Challenge Rating are those things?”

“Tier II; about as bad as it gets here.”

The group regarded the long, gangly limbs of the disgusting mosquito things. The serrated barbs had unseamed Yue's flesh like a keen knife.

“Let’s keep going,” Yue urged.

The group found themselves roving through packs of Gobs for the next three hours, though the unarmed creatures proved little to no challenge. Discovered or otherwise, the critters plod and plough towards them like lemmings, heedless of the barrages laid down by Yue and Gwen.

“Where are they all going?” Yue asked no one in particular. “I think we just hit a century after the last pack.”

Gwen shrugged. Who knew what mysteries the Wildland held? Maybe a mass migration? Breeding season? Did these things even follow the laws of nature?

“How far is Zeta from us now?”

“About half an hour.”

“One sec,” Yue asked for the group to halt. “I am all clammy.”

Out of the five in the group, it was Yue who had the worst stamina, being both shorter and heavier set. The Fire Mage peeled off her jacket and tied it around her waist. Feeling flushed, Gwen likewise packed her windbreaker.

“Shush,” Henley interjected suddenly. “I sense incoming.”

The group fanned out, crouching to lower the visibility of their profiles.

“Medium mass, Five o’clock, Fire at wi—”

In the next moment, a grey blur blasted past Jun, who had been taking point while Yue was changing.

“Shit! SHIELD!” Henley shouted.

There was insufficient time to plan, so Jun constructed three semi-sphere shields in front of Yue, Gwen and Elvia. Their assailant, however, had no interest in the girls. Instead, it made a beeline for the being that had detected it—the Diviner.

A silhouette the size of a motorcycle balled into Henley, instantly shattering his feeble mana shield, pushing the breath from his lungs. His world spun, his ribs cracked and he flew backward with a crunch.

The other four watched their friend launch like a cannonball, his flailing form performing several pirouettes before tumbling down like a rag doll.

The grey blur stopped in its tracts, revealing itself to be a wolf-like creature with bristles akin to porcupines. Its muscular limbs dug deeply into the turf, hinting at its speed and power.

“Henley!” Jun cursed.

“Darragh!” Henley hollered back. He was alive; the party collectively exhaled.

“What’s the plan?”

“I’ll slow it. You smite it.” Jun spat, weaving his hands through the air.

“Ray of Frost!” Jun opted for his most basic and near-instant Cantrip. The ray dealt little damage but had the additional quality of chilling the enemy's movements.

The spell struck, snagging the wolf with an invisible ball and chain of ice and soil. A metre away from Gwen, the creature fell short of its target, landing as a snarling whirlwind of tooth and nail.

“Shocking Grasp!” Gwen incanted the first spell that came mind. An arc of lightning leapt from her fingertips, striking the creature full in the torso, ravaging its body before grounding itself.

The wolf howled, half-numb with paralytic electricity. It attempted another dash at Gwen, but a blast of fire intercepted it mid-leap.

“Burning Hands!”

Under Alesia, Yue had refined her control. The edge of her flame barely kissed their companions as her target burned.

"Blast Bolt!"

By the time both fire and lightning had ceased, the wolf was well-done.

Jun remained wary while Elvia rushed towards Henley. “Healing Word!” She ran a hand under the Diviner's shirt to ensure his chest wasn't punctured. “Can you speak?”

“Yeah. Yep, I am still alive.”

“Can you breathe?”

“Yeah, it hurts though. My ribs, I think they’re broken.”

“Alright, don't worry.”

With the other three standing guard, Elvia cut open Henley’s shirt and gingerly felt for his displaced rib, finding the protrusion that was out of place.

“This is going to… itch.” Elvia warned.

Henley tried to smile; his face already beading with sweat.

“Heal Minor Wounds! Lesser Restoration!"

Second tier healing spells coursed through Henley’s battered body. The Diviner writhed; the mending of bone was an itch that couldn't be scratched.

“Gwen, hold him down!”

Gwen held the shaking Henley by the wrists as the young man alternated between laughing and moaning. When the spells finally ran their course, the party watched a sweat-drenched Henley rise on one shoulder, bare-chested and covered in the forest’s fallen foliage.

“You alright?”

“Don’t… don’t do that again. Let me die next time.”

“Is that supposed to happen?” Gwen and Yue both questioned Elvia, who nodded.

“Normally, we sedate the patient, but I'm not qualified to administer anaesthesia,” she responded with an expression of adorable innocence.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Their devices began to buzz. A Message spell bloomed beside their ears.

“Group Seven, are you alright? Do you need assistance?”

“No, sir. We have resolved the problem,” Yue informed Sergeant Boone.

“Is Henley alright? His transponder triggered.”

“I am FINE, SIR,” Henley shouted into his unit.

“Alright, give me a quick sit-rep.”

They told Boone about the creature they’d encountered.

“Wind Wolves. They usually don’t range this far up the coast.” Boone sounded troubled. “I’ll inform the other groups. You have permission to abort.”

The party pondered the risk and rewards. That wolf was tier III, but they've come this far, who not finish the rest?

“We’ll continue, sir.”

“There's no penalty for quitting if you encounter an abnormality.”

“Henley here, sir. I am confident we can finish the objective and return by nightfall. I wish to continue.”

“Us as well,” the group assured the instructor.

“Alright, permission granted,” Boone affirmed their decision. “Be cautious and contact me if you encounter Soldier tier critters. Remember, this is only a test. Don't risk your lives needlessly.”

The Message spell lost its glow.

“Thanks, H.P.” Jun pulled his friend up.

Henley's shirt was still in shreds. “Got a spare?” He asked his friend.

“Use mine. I think we’re the same size.” Gwen offered Henley her sport jacket, which the young man warmly accepted.

Elvia probed the carcass of the wolf thing and came up with a thumb-sized marble.

Snap!

The Core cracked. Whatever it held dissipated into the air.

“Shame,” Jun remarked. “Thought we had something there.”

As the rest of the group meandered away, Gwen observed a warm glow occurring close to her bosom. She could sense, through the resonance of mana within her body, a flow of something indescribable.

She placed her hand on her collarbone and found the familiar shape of a pendant she had forgotten entirely.

The Kirin amulet! She caressed its smooth surface. She had almost forgotten it existed. The jade chimaera that father gave her when she awakened. What was it doing?

Catching up to the rear of her party, she unbuttoned her collar and looked downward, seeing the jade take on an inner lustre. Curious, she attempted to identify the mana it was infusing to no avail.

In front, Yue observed Gwen peeping under her shirt, seemingly fascinated by what she saw. Was her bra too tight? She wondered. A poorly fitted bra was the worst.

“Gwen, is this the time for that kind of introspection?” Yue enquired mirthfully.

“Sorry,” her friend replied, smoothing her collar and patting down her shirt. "Let's go."

The party now progressed with greater caution. They encountered yet more mobs of Gobs, ultimately a pair of Goblins, but nothing like that of the Wind Wolf.

Watching Elvia dissect the Goblins was an eye-opener, as they seemed to possess the same viscera one would find inside a human being. Likewise, the creatures demonstrated emotive expressions as they died, squealing and screaming. For Gwen, the sight of Elvia ferreting the chest cavity for the Core turned her stomach.

The group arrived at Zeta an hour later than expected, collecting the flag an instructor had earlier planted.

“We made it! Good work, everyone. Lunch and rest; twenty minutes.”

They each produced the dry rations prepared by the school, which swelled when hot water was added to become beefy gloop. To satisfy their thirst, they drank purified water melted from Jun’s icicles, furthermore using LDMs to restore their mana reserves.

“Jun, how is it that other groups without healers could make it this far?”

“Luck, mostly. When I was here last year, we didn’t see anything beyond a few Giant Slugs, Gobs, a few lone Goblins, and some of the local fauna that had become semi-magical. An average of tier one-point-five would be my estimate.”

“Why do you think we keep seeing these other creatures?”

“Wish I knew.” Jun gulped his gloop. “I hope the other groups are alright.”

“They must be.” Elvia blinked. “Else we would receive a warning message to look out for dangerous beasts, right?”

“Just our luck, then?” Henley snorted.

“Could be we're in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Yue appended Henley's hypothesis.

The group studied the gully below from the vantage offered by Point Zeta.

In the distance, they watched a flock of birds take flight.

“Grey Ibis,” Jun observed. “Scavengers. The biggest ones have wingspans up to four metres.”

The birds were ugly close up, but from a distance, the scenery had the quality of a Namatjira watercolour.

The journey back to base camp was uneventful as the group followed the path from which they came. After the dangerous run-in with the Wind Wolf, they had agreed to take a more conservative approach lest another unanticipated encounter placed them in greater danger.

The team made better progress than anticipated, reaching the camp just as the light was fading. As they came into the semi-clearing, however, it was self-evident they were no longer alone. Even without a ranged Scry, they could see the telltale signs of invasion.

“I’ll lead,” Jun intoned. “Wedge formation, Gwen and Yue on the left-right flank.”

Elvia and Henley moved closer to the middle. Jun readied his Shield Stack.

“Bless!” Elvia began.

“Huge, eleven o’clock.” Henley said with a quivering voice, “We should contact basecamp, its—”

They heard the creature before they saw it, caught flatfooted as an absurd mass exploded through the trunk of a half-rotten blue gum, splintering and scattering chunks of wood as it charged. The creature that bored down unprovoked resembled a rhinoceros without a horn—with feet that were turned inward, like that of a wombat, giving it two nasty-looking talons akin to a gargantuan pigeon toe. Sinuous muscles like steel cables roped their way around its broad, muscular back, thick with silvery-grey hair bristling as it moved. Its beady eyes were bloodshot and spoke of madness.

"Guuuarrk!" the thing barked, a half-grunt, half-roaring hoot that sent spittle flinging every which way. Its maw opened to revealed yellowing rows of canines that left absolutely no doubt as to its preferred diet.

“Fortification Shield!” Unlike his usual shields that formed in mid-air, Jun incanted the most stalwart shielding he had in his arsenal. Three buffers in the form of crystalline ice shards dug deep into the earth, forming a wedged barrier.

“GET READY!” Jun shouted. “EVERYTHING YOU GOT.”

“Shield of Faith!”

“True Strike!”

“Bane!”

The creature struck. Its skull must have acted as a battering ram, for Jun watched with disbelief as his best Shield singularly shattered.

“Stacking Shield!” He shouted, but the barreling creature was too bulky and too fast. Three additional layers of ice shattered like rice paper, and all Jun could do was redirect its trajectory.

Before the others could react, the thing was barreling past Jun, throwing him aside.

Shit! Gwen’s mind screamed. It’s now or never!

“Barrage!”

“Guiding Bolt!”

Yue’s barrage struck the beast, sending it askew. Her flames, however, had no significant effect, cascading off its hide in flaming sheets.

Shit, the thing may have Fire as a base element, Yue realised in a panic. Gwen had better pick up the slack!

Gwen's signature spell quickly followed her bolt.

“Blast Bolt!”

She channelled as much mana as she could muster into her sure-kill spell, feeling her reserves drop from full to exhaustion in a single cast. Almost two dozen arcs of lighting erupted across the giant wombat, generating enough heat and energy to turn the sandy soil beneath into shards of silica.

With a ponderous slowness, the thing slumped, then lost its remaining momentum, stopping only half a meter in front of Elvia and Henley.

"Is it dead?" Elvia trembled.

What the fuck was that? They wanted to scream. That’s not supposed to be in the Green Zone!

The creature was built like a SUV-cum-brick-shithouse and could have easily broken through the attacks and shields of lesser Mages. There was something seriously wrong with the intelligence of the region if this thing could be rooting around their camp. This creature was most certainly a Soldier class; at least tier IV.

“I found him!” Elvia cried, and with Henley’s help, gingerly retrieved Jun from the bushes.

“My arm…” Jun groaned. They could see that his left arm was turned oddly in an impossible direction.

“I’ll call basecamp,” Gwen said, seeing that Yue was beside herself with worry. “Elvia, do your thing.”

“This is going to itch,” Elvia told Jun apologetically before she began.

Jun’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“Sir! We ran into a huge creature just now! It was at least a Soldier Class,” Gwen reported. “Requesting permission to return to basecamp!”

“Granted. Return as soon as you can, Group Seven, we are getting reports from all over that there are higher level creatures in the region. What is your status? Do you need an escort?”

“We’ll be fine, sir. Please prioritise the other groups.”

“Acknowledged. Be safe and make haste!”

Jun recovered his senses once Henley gave him a few slaps on the cheeks. “Forget the stuff, we need to get back to basecamp now!” he declared.

“Shall I recover the Core, Gwen?” Elvia asked.

The gathering looked at the smoking carcass of the gigantic beast. It would take at least an hour to dig through that thing, and they had no way of moving it.

“Screw it.” Gwen took over the command. “Let's move.”

Just as she gave the order, another warm glow infused her chest. Whatever. No time for mystery, Gwen thought as she drove the pendant from her mind. They needed to go before another one of those damn things showed up.

“Bless!”

Elvia placed another buff on the group, relieving their fatigue.

The group moved out, hoping to hell there would be no more encounters.

Chapter nineteen

The Looming Cloud

Edgar's real name wasn't Edgar, of course. It was an alias he liked.

When Edgar had been a boy, his father had forbade that he watch any of the plebeian vid-shows, but he was far too slippery for his idiotic NoM housekeepers and his multiple nannies. When he’d finally managed to catch a vid-cast in the break room of the manor, the hero who blasted apart a hydra's nest was called Edgar.

It was such a masculine name, rolling off the tongue with its pedantic, near-silent E, followed by the full, syllabic luxury of that long GAR. Far more thrilling to the ear than his own.

“Edgar. Come see,” Faceless called from above. The shapeshifter was his partner and temporary companion. Faceless, or John Citizen, as Edgar liked to think of him, was nobody and everybody.

“Flight.”

A swirly of grey dust blew from Edgar’s feet as his body grew light, propelling himself from the bottom of the pit towards the ledge where Faceless stood in that ubiquitous, illusory cowl their organisation always made the members wear.

“What is it?”

“A Scry from Sector Four," Faceless replied, his pitch both high and low as he spoke. His genderless companion then produced a Magic Item from underneath his cowl.

“Scrying Pool.”

A spout of water appeared before them, forming into a mirror-like pane. The vision was hazy, for the spell worked best when one knew the target of the invocation more intimately. From the semi-transparent surface of the pool of water, the duo saw what appeared to be high school students going on a field trip. The image shifted here and there, showing a few groups moving across the lower sector of the Uloola fire trail.

“Kids. Acolytes?” Edgar rubbed his chin. The constant glamour of the cowl made his beard itch. “Any good ones?”

Faceless's illusory mien became a smug-looking middle-aged man licking his chops as if before a great feast.

Edgar observed the goosebumps rising and falling on his skin. The shapeshifter's ability was a hellish sight to behold. He recalled someone saying that Faceless consumed the souls of those whose shape he took.

The scrying pool dissolved to reform elsewhere. Another image appeared, this time clearer, indicating that Faceless had been following this group for some time.

They watched a group of young Mages making their way through the fire trail, expertly picking off the critters generated from the leylines of the Wildlands. The leading girl, a spirited-looking Asian, threw unstable Firebolts all over the joint.

“Oooh very nice, Faceless!” Edgar applauded. “And that chest! She would fetch a pretty good price for sure.”

“Wait.”

The scene changed again, and this time the group was facing off against a gigantic Diprotodon; a formidable enemy that would make even Edgar break a sweat. They watched it crush the Shields conjured by the Ice Abjurer, swatting the youth aside as the final barrier shattered. As a creature aligned with Fire, the beast had remarkable resistance to heat, so ignored the blasts that were gouging chunks of fur from its flank. Then, a jolt of purple lightning materialised from the air, striking the creature square in the face before escalating into a storm of blue-white electricity that smothered the hulking mass until smoke began to pour from its nose and mouth.

“Nice catch, number two!” Edgar’s voice raised an extra octave. The dust around him swirled and spun to form small vortexes that flowed out uncontrollably here and there, carving channels in the stone. “A beauty as well. They told me this place was an uninhabited shit hole but it's turned out to be a crystal mine!”

“Wait.”

“No.” Edgar’s face cowl bobbed up and down with glee. “You telling me there's more than meets the Scry?”

The final pool that formed showed the ice Mage being picked from the floor by the others. The kid looked like he had broken his arm, but in the next moment, a little blonde girl knelt and cast an assortment of healing and blessing spells. In the next minute, the injured mage stood by the strength of his very own self and gave his arm a good stretch while the other appeared to be making calls and pulling up camp.

“A Healer!” Edgar blurted out. “We’ve hit the lottery! Clerics are rare as shit here in the Frontier! You know I love myself a good Cleric—they make for a most fortifying meal.”

Faceless' illusory mien turned to that of a wicked grin, the yellow teeth covering the area under his cowl.

“Three girls.” Edgar considered his options, “They look to be about tier II. The Fire one would probably sell pretty quickly, the Lightning one’s a real looker, so maybe keep her around for a while longer. The healer, that’s the real bank right there, old chum.”

“Wait.”

“No! No way!” Edgar was beside himself. “What is this? Did Lilith's lose a bus in the woods or something?”

“This one. Now.” Faceless waved a hand. The final scrying pool displayed what appeared to be a base camp with a few concrete buildings. The duo had seen them before but had not known it had become occupied in the weeks since they’d begun their operation. They watched a few instructor-looking Mages going about their rounds disinterestedly when suddenly, the spell became drawn to a woman in a bright red racing suit. The scrying pool was unusually focused, denoting that the caster, Faceless, knew her already. The vision followed her as she moved into the compound, where she suddenly stopped.

Unexpectedly, she turned, giving them a glimpse of a strikingly beautiful face before a blast of scarlet flame wipe out the Divination window, dispelling it entirely in a hiss of steam.

Edgar stumbled back at the moment of impact, almost falling over the ledge before his still-activated Flight returned him to the ledge.

“Christ!” He cried out loudly. “What the fuck, Faceless! That was the Scarlet Flame! The fucking Crimson Goddess herself! What the fuck are you doing scrying her?”

A frightened female face appeared before the Faceless man’s cowl.

“She suspects,” Faceless replied. “She does not know.”

“You certain?”

“Yes.”

“Totally absolutely certain?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we better get a fucking move on then.”

The two of them looked below, where charmed Neophytes were laying out the final parts of the puzzle. Around the central dais of what seemed to be an excavated cavern, sat a man-sized, egg-like artefact cordoned off by layer upon layers of scrolls that formed a pentagramic Sigil around its exterior. Two dozen or so of the “apprentices” were still busy bloodletting, making precise incisions into their hands and wrists and using the blood to inscribe the last touches of the Arcane Cauldron wearing euphoric expressions that juxtaposed oddly with the state of their wane bodies.

The sun was now striking the horizon, sending a mauve light over the dusky bushland.

“Think it’s possible to nail the scarlet bitch?”

“Not impossible.” Faceless seemed to ponder the proposal, his face changing to that of the thinking man, before turning into a toothy grin. “Ambush. You and me. She and I. Grudge.”

“Get the girls first.” Edgar licked his lips. “I am short on funds and favours.”

“Distractions,” Faceless intoned, his scowling face becoming one of displeasure.

“Three-seven, and I’ll take point on the scarlet bitch.”

“…” The cowl cackled. “Agreed. But her face. Mine. If we succeed. Must repay her brother-in-craft, the esteemed Paladin Shultz.”

“Sure thing.” Edgar shrugged. He liked his friend, but the chum was one sick bastard. If it was true that he ate souls, then the Transmuter was a Necromancer to boot. Nobody wanted to associate with that, at least knowingly.

They looked down below into the pit once more, where yet another “apprentice” collapsed from exhaustion.

The witching hour was nigh.

Chapter twenty

What Great Beast

“Lady De Botton! You are finally here!” Boone’s eyes were aglow with admiration.

Alesia stepped off her blazing red Ducati with shaking legs. She had thought that the ride from the Shield Fort 47 toward the camp would be one of those iconic drives with long winding roads and graceful curves. Instead, after half an hour of crushed stone, she was left with sore buttocks crying out for a Healing Word.

Chipped the bike too, Alesia moped.

“We’ve got trouble, ma’am.” Boone waited until Alesia inspected her bike.

She followed him into the main building, a rundown, two-tier concrete rectangle, noting the augur map laid out on a dinner table. A few other instructors were present, bickering about an evacuation.

“What’s happening?” she demanded, watching as the instructors turned to face her. Their voices fell silent at once, some more willingly than others.

“Gwen’s group ran into a CR 4 Soldier,” Boone informed Alesia. “The kids did good, they took care of it, and are on their way back now.”

Alesia nodded; she was confident in Gwen’s group. “Anyone injured?”

“Jun, but he’s healed.”

“Anyone else?”

“Just before you arrived, Debora’s group said they ran into a huge swarm of Gobs; a good hundred or so of them. They managed to push through and are on their way back as well.”

“How about the others?”

“All accounted for, except group 02,” Boone answered anxiously. He pointed to a pin on the map. “They are not responding to hails, but their Augur devices didn’t show any vitality loss either. We were debating to see if we should send someone to check up on them.”

“That’s probably a good idea. What’s the problem?”

“Instructor Crusoe doesn’t want to,” one of the instructors stated.

Alesia turned to regard at this Crusoe arsehole with her penetrating blue eyes.

Opposite the map table, Crusoe’s face blanched. “I never said that. I’ll be going then,” he quickly replied, leaving the room as if in a great hurry. Outside, they heard him incant the Flight spell and take to the air.

“Why didn’t he want to go earlier?” Alesia asked.

“PTSD,” another instructor remarked with a critical tone, flashing her a disagreeable glance. “But it seems our war hero managed to make him overcome years of trauma.”

Alesia felt her face flush. She was always too quick to judge; her Master had expressly said so.

A commotion could be heard outside the building.

"That must be Gwen's group," Boone noted.

“I’ll be back,” Alesia stated inelegantly, leaving her peers and their none-too-friendly gazes.

Out in the clearing, Alesia watched the group stumble into camp. Henley was helping Jun while the two girls brought up the rear with Elvia in the middle.

Good girls! Alesia felt a tingling touch of pride.

“You guys alright?” she hollered to her students before walking towards them. The girls were initially wary of a woman clad in all red racing leather until Gwen realised her saviour had arrived.

“Instructor!” The party ran to their teacher.

Alesia hugged them each in turn. The girls smelled like bush, burnt earth, and creature viscera.

"So what happened?"

The students began to recount their experiences all at once, speaking over one another to tell Alesia about how they had survived a day in the Wildlands. After assuaging their fears and worries, she then took them into the concrete bunker where hot food and tea had been prepared and told them to await the return of their peers.

Relieved that Gwen and company were safe, Alesia decided to take a walk around the perimeter. There was a strange feeling that had been bothering her since they had arrived, like in those dodgy establishments where “the walls have eyes”. Her paranoia seemed to grow as she patrolled until finally, she felt the hair rise on the back of her neck.

I am being Scryed! Alesia noted annoyingly. She didn’t like that at all. “Flame Nova!”

A ring of fire blew out from her as she turned, singing everything within five metres.

Instantly, her paranoia ceased.

Was it one of the instructors? she wondered. She wouldn't have put it past them.

Not far away, there was another commotion. Alesia watched as another group arrived. She recognised them as Debora’s party. Two of the Transmuters looked to have sustained minor injuries, limping and holding onto one another. The Illusionist followed at a brisk pace, unharmed, with their Enchanter following behind. Debora herself came into the clearing like a Mage-Knight, resplendent in her Bronze Skin, tall and proud and full of poise.

“Ma’am!” they greeted her.

"Group 3, I am glad to see you're all safe." Alesia directed them towards the direction of the communal bunker for tea and supper.

In the dim light, Alesia could see that Debora was as tall as Gwen. From what she knew, the two groups had a little rivalry going. She liked that. Rivalries made children grow, especially among those with drive and talent.

“Are Yue and Gwen alright?” Debora asked, the Bronze Skin fading from her. Without the distinct texture, Alesia could see that Debora was covered with bruises—her face, her arms, her collarbones, all of it possessed by green and purple splotches.

“They’re fine. They should be inside, having a bite. I am sure they would be glad to see you.” Alesia gave the girl a reassuring smile. “Go on in, I am sure Elvia has some healing for you.”

The rest of the groups arrived in twos and threes until the whole cohort was accounted for. Crusoe returned with the last group, who had been tied up dealing with a swarm of relatively harmless Fern Slugs. They had become fast-stuck after the hive had passed, walking into the adhesive trails left behind by the creatures. As no one was harmed, the worry turned to a humorous affair. The kids were told to take a shower and get changed.

With the students safe and sound, the instructors met to discuss the likelihood of an evacuation.

“I am telling you, tonight is impossible. The coaches don’t operate at night, meaning we’re going to be hiking in the dark for five hours. That’s FAR more dangerous than waiting it out here in CONCRETE fortifications!”

“No!” Crusoe seemed adamant, “We have to go. I saw what was happening when I flew over the Burning Palms. The beasts are on the move and they are moving AWAY from something.”

“This is the Green Zone, Crusoe, what can it be?”

“A Beast Migration,” Crusoe declared ominously. “This is the beginning of a Beast Wave, I know it. I recognise the signs. I am telling you we need to go.”

“Just like that?” Another Instructor retorted annoyedly, “I know you’re a survivor of the ’88 Migration, Crusoe, but not every phenomenon is a calamity.”

Crusoe fell silent; his face ashen.

“Richardson, that’s going too far.” A third instructor interjected, “Sorry, Crusoe.”

“We have to go,” Crusoe replied weakly.

“I understand your fears.” Boone tossed in his two cents. “But there are no signs. No quake activity, no atmospheric phenomenon.”

“I feel it in my bones.” Crusoe seemed on the verge of asphyxiation. He tried to retort but couldn't catch his breath. Watching their terrified colleague, the rest of the instructors fell silent. “I… I need a moment.”

His eyes met Alesia’s for a moment and she felt a pang of guilt. Oh God, it's not me, is it? Alesia groaned. She probably shouldn’t have triggered him earlier.

“I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Alesia announced to the table. “My two cents is staying here, because… you know—I am here.”

“Of course, Lady De Botton.” Boone escorted her out. He felt like he should be saluting but stopped himself at the last minute. She was no longer a part of the military.

He returned to the room with a look of smug confidence.

Well, of course, they'll be fine holing up here, Boone acknowledged, realising the stupidity of their debate. If need be, the Crimson Sorceress could take out half the zone in a blazing firestorm.

Outside, Alesia found Crusoe walking towards the edge of the clearing, away from the main building.

Where is he going? she pondered, feeling a strange paranoia. Jesus, he’s not going to skip out on us and make a run for it, is he?

“Mister Crusoe!” she called, out, but he kept on walking, “Oi! Instructor Crusoe!”

Shit, just my luck, triggering the PTSD of some civilian Mage, Alesia groaned inwardly.

She quickened her pace, following Crusoe out of the clearing and onto the start of a fire trail. It was dark by now; the Blue Gums were barely visible under a waxing moon.

Though she lost sight of him for a moment, Alesia eventually found the man hunched over by a tree, shoulders shivering.

Jesus, is he… CRYING? Alesia swore. Bloody hell!

She rolled her eyes. It was time to turn on some of that charm and empathy Master always advised. Alesia approached Crusoe loudly so as not to startle him, wondering how she should break the ice. Gingerly, she readied a smile, then patted him on the shoulder.

“I am sorry Crusoe,” she began.

Whomp!

Unbidden, a decade of combat instinct kicked into gear.

A silent rush of hyper-dense Mana filled the air the moment her fingers touched the sobbing instructor. Before she could react, her world lost all light. Within the next instant, cold sinews wrapped around her legs, her waist and her arms, wrought of an indiscernible element.

Dark Tentacle? Stygian Grasp? Her mind raced. Dust or Ooze?

Psssht!

Another spell activated.

Thunk!

A shard of icy invasion penetrated Alesia's abdomen.

Shit! Her body grew hot with agony, as a dark shard crushing her innards. Instinctually, caught between life and death, her mind returned to crystal clarity.

“Blade Barrier!” Alesia completed the spell between clenched teeth.

A ring of flaming blades materialised around her, indiscriminately destroying all within range. She willed them to expand and felt a satisfying thunk! echo in the darkness, the self-evident sound of a blade eating into flesh.

Whatever had pierced her stomach also ceased to be, cut off by the Blade Barrier. Her next step was to heal herself; a gut injury was no joke and she could go into shock at any moment. With a grunt, Alesia willed a mote of activation mana to reach a ring on her index finger, where a gem shattered, filling the void around her with the blue-silver spatial mana of Conjuration. A burst of brilliant energy later, she was out, having escaped the ambush by activating a contingency Dimension Door.

Outside, her vision returned. Inside the smog, her Blade Barrier continued to expand, annihilating everything within a range of the epicentre. Nothing survived, not trees, not bushes, not even bits of rock now sliced into molten silica.

She willed another mote of mana to reach yet another ring, suffusing her body with the healing power of a Cure Serious Wounds.

This fucking ordeal just burned about three hundred HDMs! High-Density mana crystals! Alesia’s anger blazed as brightly as the destructive flames of the Blade Barrier. As an Evoker-Transmuter, she was neither capable of casting Dimension Door nor Cure Wounds; both were contingency items she had earned through Questing. Now they were gone and she would have to replace them, as well as face the criticism of her Master.

“Shit. I don’t think she is in here anymore,” a voice called out for the darkness, seemingly unfazed by Alesia's Blade Barrier.

“Idiot,” another voice that sounded genderless stated with a tone of annoyance.

Alesia watched the darkness dispel to reveal two men in cowls, one taller than the other.

“Ola Señorita!” The tall one, who had been Instructor Crusoe, called out to her in a lewd manner. “Oh-ho! Scarlet Sorceress! Care for a date?”

The other one Alesia knew. They were old friends after all. The Faceless Man, the bastard responsible for the Massacre at Rhodes, the prime suspect of the Kingsford Kidnappings. She had been hunting the fiend across half of Australia to New Zealand and back.

What the fuck is he doing here? Her mind spun with possibilities. But none of that mattered right now — she was going to end these pricks right here.

“Haste!”

“Gaseous Form!”

Her body quickened. Simultaneously, her physical form turned gaseous, becoming a flaming cloud in the shape of a woman.

“Oh, shit!” The taller man cried out, then waved his fingers.

Silent Spells! Alesia's heart palpitated. She was up against skilled opponents.

It was just as well that her invocation speed was second only to Gunther.

“Maelstrom!”

A spiral of fire fell from the heavens, materialising from the aether and striking the ground where her opponents stood. A flaming tornado ripped through the immediate area, obliterating every standing tree and object within a radius of over twenty metres.

She watched as their bodies cease to exist, sensing the pulverisation of a single target. Alesia willed the flames to part momentarily and saw not a pair of charred and burning bodies, but one. From what remained of the clothing and the frame of the charring, partially minced carcass, she knew it to be Instructor Crusoe.

FUCK! she cursed. Faceless was an Illusionist as well? Or was it the other Mage?

“Whoa—“ Her Crimson Caracal instructed her to dodge before her mind even registered the incoming attack spell. Spirits were far more sensitive to mana-fluctuations, and a great boon of possessing a sentient Spirit involved having two consciousnesses operating in parallel.

A spear of darkness, the Signature Spell of the Faceless Man pierced Alesia’s gaseous form, displacing a few motes of her Astral Body. That’s going to hurt later—a lot. Alesia grimaced before reorienting herself.

She saw his arms move yet again, but this time she was ready. She completed the tier VI spell in an instant, then pointed a finger at her aberrant foe.

“Disintegrate!”

A scarlet beam as thick and intense as the concentrated rays of a hundred midday suns, instantly blasted through the form of the Faceless Man. The hit registered, affirmed by her spirit pouring its own power into the beam, magnifying its heat by several magnitudes. When the spell ceased, she expected to see naught but a pile of dust. Instead, she saw the tattered robes of the creature float away. Beneath it were thousands of stricken carcasses consisting of vermin—some alive, others cooked, a few popping from the boiling of internal juices.

“Coward!” Alesia cursed. “Where did that fucker go?”

Suddenly, the earth shook.

She saw something shifting in the distance, something too vast to be comprehensible, for the landscape itself begun to churn.

What the fuck is that?! Alesia felt every muscle in her body tense.

The silhouette moved again and this time, Alesia saw the shadow of a mountain shifting against the moonlight. No, not shifting, she noted. It was coiling, slithering, meandering, moving with the surety of tectonic movement. A sliver of luminescence refracted from a moving ridge, blasting the landscape with a splendiferous splay of rainbow-light.

The ground below her was shaking now, shivering as if terrified of what was to come.

Alesia gritted her teeth and dispelled the Transmutation transformation. Where she'd been wounded once before, her body re-materialised a flap of gouged flesh that directly assailed her torso. The pain was excruciating, causing her to cry out.

"FUCK!"

From her Storage Ring, she produced a ruby-red injector, with a grimace, she slammed into her wound.

“Nnnngh!” she grunted. Her damaged tissues regenerated, accompanied by an unbearable itch.

The thing in the distance was moving now; moving towards her and toward the camp.

Gwen! Yue! Elvia!

Alesia's mind raced at a hundred miles a second.

What the fuck is Faceless doing here?

Who was the man with him?

Why aim for a group of students from a rank-less government school?

The land rumbled; the time for thinking was over.

As her Master's pupil, it was her responsibility to protect the innocent and defeat threats against civilians.

“Flame Avatar!”

Her red racing suit burst into flames, falling off her battered body, exposing her athletic figure to the night. In a split second, a crimson sheet of flames flowed across her bare skin until she transformed into a goddess adorned by crimson fire.

“Flight!” She took to the air like a celestial vision. In the distance, the monstrosity slouched forward ponderously, crushing the bushland, making for the camp, making, eventually, for the city.

“Message.” Alesia activated her elementally attuned Message Device, protected from her fire.

“Shit! Alesia! There you are!” A male voice, deep and reserved, answered beside her ear. “What the fuck is happening out there? The city’s just gone into Red Alert!”

“I need the team here within the hour, take the Teleportation Gate at Shield Wall station 47.” Alesia said calmly, “I am observing a MYTHIC, I repeat, a MYTHIC incursion at the Royal National.”

“Alright, can you hold out? We’re teleporting towards your location,” the voice replied, alarmed but growing calmer now that he’s found their leader.

“Just get here soon,” Alesia reiterated solemnly.

“Can you hold out? Are you able to retreat?”

“Get your ass over here,” Alesia repeated once more, “or if you’re late, bring a casket.”

Chapter twenty-one

The Woods have Wolves

The serene fragrance of the Earl Grey in Gwen's hands unravelled both her body and mind. Instructor Alesia was here, and all would be well. Beside her, Yue toasted a sandwich, while Elvia absently dangled her legs over the edge of a tall stool.

The door to the bunker opened with a groan. Gwen saw the familiar figure of Debora push past the heavy door.

“Hey, guys.”

To Gwen’s surprise, Debora’s mien was one of touching relief. She then noticed the injuries covering the Transmuter's arms, including a purple blotch that extended from her chin to her ear.

“Deb! My God! You’re hurt!” Gwen set down her cup of tea and moved towards her friend and rival. “Elvia, give us a hand!”

“Thank God, you’re all safe.” Debora smiled, wincing as she did so.

“Healing Word!” Elvia incanted, placing a hand over Debora’s neck and shoulder. Positive energy suffused the Transmuter for a moment, casting a pale green glow as her bruises eased, becoming faint imprints.

“Thank you.” Debora exhaled appreciatively before turning to Yue. “It sure is handy having a healer on the team, hey?”

“Hmph!” Yue breathed out from her nostrils. She had loathed Debora since day one. The surfie girl was typical of those living in the south shire, always looking down on migrants.

“So.” Debora sat beside them, crossing her tanned legs. “We had about… oh, a hundred and thirty kills today.”

Her eyes met Yue’s, and Gwen caught a spark sizzling between them.

“That’s very impressive,” Gwen concurred. “Sounds like you guys did far better than we had. I’d say we got about a hundred, tops.”

“Oh?” Debora immediately flashed her teeth.

“I don’t know about that.” Yue retorted with a smile of her own. “Sure, we ran short of Gobs, but we also had… oh, a tier III Wind Wolf, and then a… what was it? A tier IV Wombat.”

“A Wombat?”

“Yeah,” Yue replied uncertainly, realising the lack of panache.

“A combat wombat?” Debora smirked.

Yue growled.

“Henley!” Yue summoned her second. The Diviner materialised as if by magic. He had been listening to their conversation in the background, amusing himself with the girls' rivalry.

“Do that thing that you do,” Yue commanded.

“Yes, ma’am!” Henley turned to Debora.

“T’was a terrible and dreadful beast!” He began as Elvia began to chuckle. “Stay a while Debora Jones, and listen to the epic battle that unfolded the moment Team Seven returned to our base camp…”

Henley was a good storyteller.

The break room soon burst into hearty laughter, chuckling with delight as Henley retold the tale with outlandish exaggerations. Despite all that had happened, the accommodating atmosphere was a good lubricant to ease the friction of their disastrous trip.

"Gwen killed it, by herself?!" Debora blinked her eyes at her.

Gwen returned a coy and modest grin.

Ah, Debbie, Gwen recollected. We were such close friends. In Gwen’s previous world, when the night was still and the shallow philosophy of shower thoughts took over. There was always the occasional fantasy of a “what if” scenario. What if she hadn’t left school? What if she had graduated with her friends? What if Debora and Yue had remained in the orbit of her life?

“Debs,” she began, regarding her friend’s luminous, amber eyes. “Deb, I want to let you know that—”

Crack!

The tremor that shook the concrete bunker came on like a whiplash. The students felt it simultaneously, the momentum of moving earth sending them tumbling from their seats and balling into one another. Debora fell forward onto Gwen, who lost her balance, slamming herself against hard concrete.

“Get out!” Someone called from somewhere in the room. “Earthquake!”

A chunk of the bunker dropped from the ceiling, narrowly missing Gwen’s head.

A chaotic scramble flashed through her head; she wanted to expand her Mana Shield, but it was too dangerous with Debora lingering over her. Unlike Instructor Alesia, Gwen's Lightning Shield could sizzle Debora right there and then.

“Bronze Skin!” Dobra grunted, pushing herself from Gwen and shielding her friend from another wayward chunk of fallen concrete. “Gwen, follow my lead! Enhance Fortitude!”

Jun had made a moving dome of ice over Elvia and Yue; the trio was already moving toward the exit. “Gwen, over here!”

“You guys go! Deb’s got me.”

Yue met Debora's eyes, neither giving way.

“Get out now!” Gwen spat.

Thankfully, the steel doors of the bunker fortification remained intact enough to be opened, thanks to a few Abjurers creating a passage, the students could escape without complication.

“What the hell is that?” Someone screeched, pointing southward. Gwen turned to see a mountain, a damned MOUNTAIN, moving in the distance.

They felt the earth shift again. Another supernatural tremor passed the clearing. All around them was the chaotic sound of crumbling structures and the falling and snapping of gum trees, whose twisted forms were sending down an avalanche of leaves and branches.

“Where’s Instructor De Botton?” Gwen shouted over the din. “Has anyone seen Alesia?”

Gwen's answer came in the form of panicked of students. The night was dark and the waxing moon barely provided enough light to see. What happened to all the lights? Gwen realised. There used to be lumen globes all over the camp.

“Dancing Lights!” Gwen incanted, shedding light on the anarchy. Around her, terrified students roved like headless flies.

They're making it worse, she realised. Gwen had experienced earthquakes in the old world before and knew the protocol for emergency measures. The greatest danger existed directly within and outside buildings, at exits and alongside exterior walls. In a place like this, where branches weighing twenty kilos were falling like rain, it would be best to steer well away from the bush.

“To me!” She began to holler. “Everyone, to me!”

No one listened.

“TO ME!” She called again, louder this time, her vocal cords straining to their limits, but only a few students stopped to run toward her.

“They’re not listening!” Yue cried out over the din.

“THUNDERCLAP!”

Gwen incanted a basic cantrip. In the next moment, a loud CRACK! resounded over the area with a burst of brilliant white electrical light.

“To me!” she screamed at them, wishing that she had a spell for voice projection. “Move away from the buildings and make for the clearing! Stay away from trees!”

Two dozen or so students followed. Gwen took them towards an area of the camp clearing that seemed to offer the largest zone of safety from falling objects.

“Where are all the instructors?” Yue asked bewilderingly, her voice beginning to grow hoarse.

They looked toward the main building.

Gwen's heart dropped forty fathoms. The two-storey concrete shed had collapsed into a pile of loose rubble, great slabs of cement jutting this way and that. The instructors had been having a meeting… Oh my God! Was Alesia in there?

“Oh no,” Elvia cried out in dismay and panic. “We need to help them!”

“Count me in.” Debora joined them, her bronze skin gleaming under the glow of Gwen's Dancing Lights. “I should be able to move the slabs with a few Enhancement buffs.”

“Alright. Jun, you stay here with the other students, Henley, can you detect people under the rubble or something?”

Henley was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. He looked at her weakly. The boy's face was full of fright and terror, his eyes glazed over.

“Elvia, give him a hand with that bleeding.”

“Got it! Healing Word!"

“Who else? Who else can help us? Speak up!”

The others remained silent, their eyes wide with incomprehension.

Shit, they’re just kids. Gwen crushed the disappointment rising from her chest. Her mind turned away from the students, huddled like a gaggle of frightened geese, thinking instead of Alesia, Instructor Boone, Mr Richardson and the others.

“Elvia, Deb, you’re with me. Yue, can you help Jun control the situation here?”

“You got it, boss,” Yue replied, firing a few blasts of fire into the air to attract any stragglers. “Evokers! Give me Dancing Lights! Abjurers! Form a perimeter and yell if you see something coming that’s not human!”

As she crossed over to the building, Gwen continued to shout into the gloom.

“Who else can help? I need Transmuters! Which one of you is an Earth Elementalist?”

There were no answers to Gwen’s desperate enquiries. Looking at her two companions, she was glad beyond relief that Elvia could heal and Debora remained calm and collected. She needed them now more than ever to be lucid and competent.

The trio made it across the clearing.

“Enhance Strength!” Debora self-buffed, then tried to lift the rubble while Gwen and Elvia stood heart-in-mouth a safe distance away. The wreckage was deceptively small, yet even a tiny slab of reinforced concrete was over a ton, far beyond the enhanced strength of a junior Transmuter, and a teenage girl at that.

“It's too much!” Debora turned to look at them with an expression of pure despair. “I can’t do it alone!”

“Oh, Gwennie…” Elvia’s face was now streaked with tears. Their poor instructors; had any of them managed to get out? Surely they couldn’t have all perished!

“We… we have to find the other students.” Gwen forced her mouth to move. Now wasn't the time to play the waif. There had to be an adult to take command. “The instructors would have placed our safeties as the top priority. We need to do the same."

“THANK GOD you’re all alright!”

A familiar voice called out from the darkness. The silhouette of a middle-aged man in an instructor’s sports uniform appeared from the edge of the clearing.

“Mr Crusoe!” Tension melted from Debora's limbs. Gwen knew that he was Debora's homeroom teacher and that Debora was his favourite.

“Are the others alright?” Gwen and Elvia asked simultaneously.

“The others are with me, but we’re going to need your help.”

“What’s wrong?”

As Crusoe came into the light, they could see that he was bleeding all over. His uniform was torn here and there and covered with leaves and dust. Dark blood oozed over a graze near his abdomen, sending a clotted cascade of dark maroon down his track pants.

“Sir!” Elvia cried out, moving immediately to heal him. “Cure Minor Wounds!”

“Thank you, dear.” He coughed, patting Elvia’s head kindly. “I still need your help though.”

Crusoe gestured towards the woods that extended into the darkness.

“I am afraid Instructor Alesia's pinned under a fallen tree. We managed to get her out, but we need a healer before we can move her.”

Gwen's chest constricted, Alesia's injured?!

“Of course!” Elvia agreed readily.

“I’ll come with.” Debora followed.

“Are you okay now, sir?” Elvia kindly asked the ageing instructor.

“Thank you. It’s just this way, about a few hundred metres. Follow me and be careful of any Magical Beasts that may still be in the area.”

The party moved with as much haste as could be mustered. In the distance, they could see the opening of a pyrotechnical display that seemed to light up the heavens itself. There was a titanic struggle happening, wherever and whatever that creature was, and the resultant phenomena was a reddish, scarlet glow that seemed to consume the night sky.

That illumination! That colour! It was a unique, singular shade of red!

Gwen stopped.

No one in their party had cast anything, but she could feel the flow of the air around them change and the composition of elements in the area shift, modified by an arcane current.

“Halt!” Crusoe’s voice echoed through the woods despite the persistent falling of leaves and branches every time the ground shook. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah.” Gwen readied a spell.

Debora renewed her Bronze Skin, moving closer to Gwen, acting as her Shield.

“Elvia, stay behind us,” Gwen commanded. The little blonde girl narrowed her profile.

“Debora.” Crusoe scanned the area around them carefully, speaking his next words carefully. “I want you to restrain Gwen right now.”

To Gwen’s unsuspecting bemusement, her friend reached out and caught her by the arm, whipping her around so quickly as to utterly disorientate her before driving an iron knee into her gut, sending her down onto the path.

“Deb! W-what are you doing!” Elvia called out in alarm, her mind robbed of meaningful judgment.

Debora's grip had the consistency of a steel vice, wrapping around Gwen's neck before pulling Gwen upward, half choking her and driving the air from her oesophagus. The Transmuter's other arm twisted Gwen's wrist behind her back so tightly as to make her mind hot with agony. Through the pain, she realised that without the ability to gesture and invoke, she was incapable of casting spells.

Crusoe’s face transformed from a kindly old man to one full of menace and malice.

“It’s a shame the tier IV Fire is not here, but the Transmuter's a nice catch.” He said to no one in particular. His gaze moved up and down the bodies of the two girls, smacking his lips as he did do.

“Sir?” Elvia still had not realised the crisis of the moment. "Mr Crusoe?"

“Run Evee! Run!” Gwen managed to squeeze out between Debora’s fingers, “He’s not Crusoe!”

To her dismay, the small girl did not run. Elvia did not want to leave her friends behind.

“Good girl.” Not Crusoe stated approvingly, dispensing with silent spells. “Dominate!”

In an instant, Gwen realised what had happened to Debora. That spell! It came from a forbidden Schools of Enchantment. They had learnt about it in Spellcraft. The mental manipulation inherent to Enchantment was censored and was only available to law enforcement specialists. This man before them wasn't a Tower agent, meaning he was something far more dangerous - a rogue Mage!

Elvia's eyes began to glaze over.

No! Not Elvia! Not on my life, you piece of shit! Gwen's mind rioted.

For once, she was glad that she had terrible control over her conduits. Tapping into a torrent of raging emotions, her Evocation Sigil activated as before, triggered by not by expertise but by trauma. A flood of electricity poured from her skin, ripping through Debora’s body, dispelling her Bronze Skin and ravaging her innards as the hysterical charge sought to ground itself.

Debora collapsed where she stood behind Gwen in a shower of gold-white sparks, falling senseless to the floor like an untethered marionette. Gwen wanted desperately to kneel and check if her friend was still alive, but couldn't afford to ignore Crusoe, who was staring at her slack-jawed.

“Gwen?” Elvia’s voice was quivering and weak. Good, Gwen breathed out. The Dominate had not taken Evee.

Their instructor had once told them that mind control effects worked best on unsuspecting individuals. The more conscious a person was, the less likely they were to be affected. In that manner, it was very similar to the School of Illusion.

“Debora…”

“Evee…” Gwen placed herself between the Mage and her friend. “Evee, I want you to run back to camp as fast as you can. Tell Yue what has happened.”

Elvia’s face had been full of hesitation, but Gwen’s steadfast demeanour quickly dispelled her reluctance. The Gwen in front of her now felt so different, so determined and powerful. In the pale glow of the distant fire that illuminated the horizon, her figure was like that of a giant!

She would have to go, Elvia convinced herself. She owed it to Gwen to make it back to Yue and tell everyone what had happened here. That was the duty which Gwen had bestowed upon her.

“Oh, it’s not going to be that easy,” Not Crusoe intoned nastily. “Dominate!”

This time, the Enchantment was directed toward the Lighting Mage. Gwen's senses were suddenly thrust into wool. She could feel the will of an alien malevolence invading her conscience, trying to change her perceptions.

Then… nothing happened.

It was exactly that. For what Gwen felt in her mind seemed not to happen to her personally, but rather someone else. She understood the phenomena, but her mind remained unmolested or affected. She was less a victim and more like that of a scientist watching the spread of ink in a container, recording its colouration and displacement.

Elvia had by now made a short distance down the Fire Trail and would soon be out of sight.

Crusoe beamed at Gwen with an aura of sadistic delight.

“What did you do?” the Mage spluttered, his tone full of marvel. “How did you resist my spell? You're not wearing a Mind Shield.”

Dominate was a tier V enchantment. That a tier II Mage with a single school could resist a higher tier compulsion was unheard-of.

“You are whetting my appetite more and more, Gwen Song.” Crusoe’s pitch rose dangerously. “You might be my catch of the day, after all.”

Gwen felt cold sweat drench her back. How did he know her name? This man is incredibly dangerous! she thought to herself, thinking of a dozen scenarios where she could somehow buy time for Debora, but also escape herself.

The man began to change and Gwen felt her stomach churn as the Illusion over his face dispelled entirely, revealing… a cowl? The figure in front of her wore the indistinct shape of a robe that seemed to distort her vision, almost as if she was staring at a faint shadow in human form. The dust around him began to twist and form into small vortexes, becoming tendrils extending from his body.

“Well, then.” The man savoured the dramatic reveal. “Let's get our freak on, shall we—”

“Guiding Bolt!” Gwen caught the man before he could finish, smothering his form with purple energy and motes of positive mana. She can't believe the stupid idiot still thought to deliver his stupid villain’s diatribe. She then pushed her conduits to full-throttle, committing her entire mana pool.

“Blast Bolt!”

The world went white.

Chapter twenty-two

Riding Hood

The immediate vicinity where Gwen’s lightning had struck combusted into flames, the dry bark of the surrounding blue gums combusted, bathing the locale in a hazy glow. The coral cinder juxtaposed beautifully with the blue arcs that continued to ionise and flood over the cowled form of the Mage, swallowed by a cascade of plasma.

Eat this, you piece of shit! Gwen grunted, feeling that distinct exhaustion associated with mana depletion. Her full-to-OoM channel lasted a good half a minute, ranging up to thirty strikes drawn by the positive energy, increasing in intensity until the final Blast Bolt was almost a solid beam of white-hot electricity.

The light faded.

The ground was now a mixture of charcoal and molten silica.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw a dark dome emerge from beneath her point of impact. The cowled Mage within could just barely be seen, one hand raised above his head, manifesting a Shield constituted of swirling black dust.

Her bosom seized.

The cowled Mage dispelled his Shield. She could see that he had not weathered her attack unharmed. There was smoke cascading from the arm that had cast the Shield, and a thin trail of blood dribbled from the cowl's shadow.

“Now you’ve done it,” The Mage intoned, his voice no longer one of mocking joviality, but one of deep annoyance. “Why is it so hard to hold a conversation with you people?”

“Dust Devil!” The man's voice grew hollow. Gwen watched in horror as a smog of black dust smothered her position. She tried to put up a Shield, but even her best attempt collapsed in a shower of sparks. The storm enveloped her, seemingly possessing a life of its own, lifting her from the ground, thrusting her into the air. In the next moment, she was flying, overwhelmed by a feeling of free fall before slamming into the ground so hard that her jaws clattered.

She moaned, her bones tenderised by the brutality. She couldn’t breathe, her chest heaved with unbearable pain.

But the Mage wasn't done with her yet. She felt the dusty tendrils wrap around her wrists, pulling her bodily upward, crucifying her against an invisible cross. Where the dust had touched her tracksuit, it disintegrated entirely. The sand-like motes of dark energy cut into her skin, releasing streams of warm blood.

Gwen grew faint at the sight of injury.

And that wasn't the worst of it. An invisible gaze within the hideous cowl licked her over; it was the very same feeling she received from strangers whose eyes lingered as she walked home, only magnified a hundred times over.

Oh, fuck. OH, FUCK. OH, FUCK. OH, FUCK. Panic washed over like a noon tide. Where was Alesia? She was so powerful, so peerless, surely she of all people could not perish in something as mundane as a collapsed building! Perhaps Elvia could bring help? No! Gwen would prefer they stayed at the camp. There was safety in numbers.

She needed to buy time, to delay.

“What… what do you want from us?”

“Now you want to talk?” The Mage mocked her.

From within his cowl, Gwen’s assailant studied his quarry. The Lightning girl was evidently only fifteen or sixteen, but the spell that she had cast at him was glorious and beautiful, possessing great affinity. What's more, he was impressed that after all that had happened, the girl remained so collected. Mayhap it had something to do with why she resisted his Dominate? Probing her was going to be a real hoot. What secrets, what memories, hid in her crevasses?

He commanded the Dust Devil to send out an additional tendril, picking up the Earthen girl bodily by the torso. Where its dusty tendrils caressed, Debora's spats disintegrated, sending out a small trickle of blood.

“Still alive. Nice.” The Mage nodded approvingly. “We’ll walk and talk…”

As the trio moved through the woods, Gwen noted between teary visions of clenched agony that the man was levitating and that she too was painfully lifted a few inches off the ground, her wrists aflame with the weight of her body.

“Who… who are you?” Gwen spoke between clenched teeth. She could feel a sort of delirium coming on. She was losing blood.

“I am Edgar.” To her surprise, the man was entirely forthcoming.

“What?” Gwen baulked. Edgar? You’re Edgar from the Edgar, and your plan is to Edgar?

They were moving quite briskly now and Gwen felt the pit of her stomach sink. In the distance, there was more rumbling. A few branches that fell towards them disintegrated into dust.

“W-why are you doing this?”

“Why does anyone do anything?” The man chuckled.

“We’re just students on a field trip,” She managed a plea before her world grew heavy with greyness. The pain was too much for someone who'd never broken a bone in either of her lives.

“If you want to know, I'll tell you everything,” Edgar continued all on his own. “You see, we are the…”

But his victim was no longer listening.

“What terrible listener.” Edgar snorted, giving Gwen's clammy cheeks a pat. “I guess the bloodletting was a little excessive. I need our little lamb at just the right state of tenderness.”

She must have lost consciousness.

Half-opening her eyes, she quickly self-assessed her condition. Her tracksuit was in tatters, barely holding together as it was. Her body ached, but she was no longer hung like a piece of meat set out to dry. There was a tendril around her torso, and another wrapped around her ankle, supporting her weight, splaying her like a cheerleader doing an X. Taking note of her surroundings, she saw to her dismay that Debora was still unconscious, dangling like a humanoid fruit behind them a few feet away, likewise hoisted in the air.

They were deep in the bush now, where the landscape grew rugged, filling with sandstone and short shrubbery, with only the occasional Blood Gum languishing in waterless crevices. Travelling a final stretch uphill, they arrived at what looked like a axe wound chasm cut into the sandstone cliff.

“You up yet, Sleeping Beauty?” the sardonic voice of Edgar asked. “I know you are, or do you want Dusty there to wake you up like Prince Charming?

“Where are you taking me?” Gwen opened her eyes unwillingly. She had better do something before they go into that cave. God knows what was going to be in there.

“Where indeed?” Edgar seemed to have regained that scornful composure of his. “You should be glad. We’re going somewhere safe from that.”

He pointed to the right. In the far distance and through the sparse foliage of the trees, Gwen could see a gargantuan thing roving across the landscape. Or rather, she could see the landscape itself moving as though a living thing. Now and then, she caught blossoms of crimson explosions.

Gwen blinked.

That colour! That mana signature! It must be her instructor. It must be Alesia! She was still alive! She was fighting that thing! Trying to deter it from moving toward the city!

Gritting her teeth, Gwen fought back the Dust Devil's hold.

“Thunderclap!”

She charged her single-incantation cantrip with every drop of mana she had regenerated. Her spell launched into the air, erupting into cacophony and colour, blossoming into a blue-purple electric-lotus.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Even the man's clapping was sarcastic.

“You think the Scarlet Sorceress has time for you at a time like this?” Edgar snorted. “What, are you her apprentice or something?”

Gwen averted her eyes.

Smack!

Edgar backhanded her face.

Gwen suddenly tasted iron.

They moved once more. The trio slowly levitated down to a ledge that overlooked a ritual of carnage.

Oh, God. Gwen felt her spine turn to jelly. Is Edgar looking to sacrifice her, Temple of Doom style?

To Gwen, the magic circle meant nothing, consisting of dozens of concentric rings of engravings and Glyphs, at the centre of which was an egg-like object, akin to a menhir stone.

Regrettably, they were indeed heading down toward the site of the ritual. With every metre of descent, the taste of bile grew stronger. I am a business consultant, not Indiana Jones! She shuddered. She couldn’t possibly wiggle out of this wicker man bullshit.

“Don’t be choking on me now,” Edgar conversed with a friendly tone. “This won’t hurt at all, not if you cooperate.”

The depth of the cavern was illuminated by several torches of amber crystal. At the bottom, on a stone table, Edgar deposited Debora’s unconscious body roughly, letting her ragdoll onto the surface. He then examined the Transmuter, tearing away at the shredded uniform until Debora was left without a shred of dignity. Watching and quaking uncontrollably, Gwen saw the guise of a butcher examining a fine cut. Finally, the Mage placed a finger against Debora’s neck and felt for a pulse.

“Good grief, Gwen. You’re merciless,” Edgar ridiculed his captive. “Your friend's rightly fucked up.”

“Will she…” Gwen had to ask.

“Who knows?” She watched as he extended a hand, materialising what appeared to be a healing injector. Gingerly, he placed it next to Debora.

“For your friend,” he said. “If you behave.”

She felt the tendrils of force around her body go slack. The apparition faded into a pile of grey dust, cascading from her clothes. Edgar moved toward another table and gave the surface a friendly pat, a man beckoning an unwilling cat.

Gwen nursed her tender wrists; her eyes darted between the man, the table and the healing injector. For a split second, she imagined herself taking it and injecting herself, giving her a better chance to escape this place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Edgar mocked her indecision.

Now burdened with shame and guilt, Gwen moved demurely toward the “examination” table, the exact opposite of where she could feel comfortable.

Edgar pulled back his hands as if to show his best intentions.

“Let’s not rough you up anymore, shall we?”

Gwen swallowed hard. Maybe she could self-destruct, take him with her? She wondered what would happen if she willed her conduits to overload. Was that possible?

Slowly, agonisingly, she removed her tattered jacket, pulling it with the tattered T-shirt over her head. She was down to her panties when she heard Edgar sniggering.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to hold his laughter.

“…” Gwen's face caught on fire. “You said…”

“I have no interesting in that sort of thing,” Edgar answered mirthfully. “You are a lucky young woman. There are those of us who lived for it."

To her surprise, he materialised a robe not too dissimilar from the one he wore and threw it towards her.

“Cover yourself. Don't catch a cold now.”

Gwen was beginning to feel very confused.

What the hell is he doing? Why was Edgar playing nice?

Still, she covered herself. The robe was velvety and warm, hanging onto her body like the softest silk. The villain had good taste in textiles at least, if not style.

“So, Gwen…” a swirl of dust seemed to materialise underneath the man, and he made himself a stool composed of compressed particles of dust. “Tell me about yourself.”

She gazed at him blankly. Her thoughts were a mess. Why are you asking me these things? Aren’t you guys terrorists or something? You attacked us! Unleashed that thing! Why are we even having a cordial conversation in the first place?

“Don’t want to answer?” He asked, and looked over at Debora, whose chest was barely moving.

“My name is Gwen Song,” Gwen began, then spoke a little about her school, her life in the city, her divorced parents, saying whatever would satisfy the man so that he would finally inject Debora with the healing potion.

“That's all very fascinating,” Edgar said finally, “but what’s your raison d'etre?”

“My reason for being?” Gwen knitted her brows. It was getting hard to think; she wanted to sleep.

“That's right, tell me what you want, what you desire. Why are you a Mage? What do you think Mages are born to do?”

“I… I don’t know.” The barrage of questions was making her head throb. Not knowing the answer, she spoke the truth.

“Come on,” Edgar demanded. “Surely you don’t think that you of all people, whose talent exceeds a hundred thousand souls, was born to be a wage slave? Do you? Think about it, dig deep.”

Gwen found herself in a deep state of introspection far more readily than she thought possible. What did she really want? Gwen wanted a comfortable life. She wanted prestige and a great deal of wealth and parents who gave a shit and to reconnect with her brother and a seaside house and two cats and a dog.

“Those are easy goals.” Edgar’s voice grew sonorous, filling the emptiness of her mind. “You could have them effortlessly with your talent.”

“Yes.” Gwen realised her goals were indeed shallow. She could easily reach them with her talents and her drive.

“You should aim for something bigger, greater, something more suited to yourself, your very own personal legend.”

Her surroundings faded to grey. Gwen appeared to be alone with this friendly man who was speaking to her so endearingly, even Debora’s comatose body disappeared from her awareness.

“What would that be?”

“Firepower! Firepower and more Firepower!” The man’s voice took on that strange tone which Yue loved to use, that childish passion with which Gwen adored. “You could be just like Instructor Alesia, a goddess of destruction, respected and worshipped.”

“That would be lovely,” Gwen replied dreamily, a stupefied expression of satisfaction on her face. How curious, she thought to herself. The man's voice was stereophonic!

“How happy that would make you,” the voice continued. “You should do it.”

“I could,” Gwen repeated.

“Would you like me to help you?” The voice implored. Edgar disappeared and Gwen was in a place that she knew very well. It was the Cognisance Chamber! Oh, thank God! She was safe! The Field Trip was just an Illusion.

She was free floating, bathed in the glow of her Evocation Sigil.

"Let me help you."

“I want you to help me,” Gwen repeated after him.

“Let me in,” the voice intoned.

“Come in, come in,” Gwen declared dreamily.

“Invite me.”

“I want you,” she repeated more forcefully this time. “I want you beside me.”

Suddenly, she could feel Edgar right beside her, his own Astral Body swirling with a malevolent dark light, flickering with motes of Elemental Dust. Comparatively, her own Astral projection was svelte and lithe, a work of art, a beautiful crystalline sculpture swirling with bottled lightning.

“Beautiful,” Edgar spoke with a tone bordering on reverence. “You should be proud of your potential. You're special.”

"I am special." Gwen giggled.

He moved to touch her, and though Gwen knew that there was something wrong about the intimate act, she still wanted to accept Edgar as her companion. She closed her eyes, feeling the shame of being touched for the first time. Edgar’s hand moving from her naval toward her left breast, were the heart resided, and where the light of the astral body was brightest. Her ego pulsed in turn, growing dimmer.

Though the Enchanter's fingers rested upon the globe of Gwen’s breast, there was no flesh to be depressed, nothing to be groped nor prodded. Instead, his fingers sunk into the fabric of her soul, moving past the membrane of her Astral Body.

“My God,” Edgar’s voice cried out in ecstasy. “What is this? There are two existences here!”

A wild excitement shook Edgar to his core. It was a phenomenon that he had never seen before. The girl was a priceless specimen! A prize to curry the highest favour with his Mistress.

“Hmm?"

Edgar paused, assailed by a sudden feeling of danger. His Astral Form startlingly experienced a sense of vertigo, an impossible feeling in the immaterial world of the mind. He quickly retracted his hand from the girl's Astral Body but found that he was stuck.

"What?"

With a push, Edgar willed himself to manifest via the third-eye, to observe what the hell was happening. To his shock and horror, his Astral Body had become inundated by dozens of leech-like slugs, darker than black, meandering hungrily, looking for a way in.

What the fuck is that?! Edgar spluttered.

His real body broke out in a terrific sweat.

Before the Enchanter could react, Gwen’s unconscious anima tapped into something tenebrous and formless. Tens of thousands of black writhing worms flooded into her Astral Form.

How can her body withstand that? he marvelled.

But this was no time to be lollygagging. Whatever was manifesting in there was bound to be happening outside. Edgar gathered his will, then pulled, feeling the stuck hand sliding free, send out sparks of lightning where he had penetrated before. The pain was exquisite, though Edgar didn’t care; his Element existed in opposition to hers and could withstand whatever she could throw at him. What he feared was that black conduit that was now manifesting within her body. That was a mystery he wasn't keen to toy with.

“Wait, wha—“ His world went dark. In the next instant, Edgar was back in his body.

“Aaaarrrgh!” a cry of unimaginable agony echoed across the cavern.

The Enchanter fell backwards as if propelled by a spring, one hand clutching his wrist. A spurt of arterial blood covered Gwen and the table upon which she sat.

My hand! Shit! SHIT! FUCK!

Edgar lifted the stump to his face.

It was gone.

No, more than gone. It was GONE.

It was as if his right hand had never existed at all, neither in the material nor the immaterial. Gritting his teeth, Edgar stumbled toward Debora, grabbed the healing injector, and slammed it into his wrist.

Psssht!

The flesh mended, the bleeding staunched. Edgar looked at a perfectly sealed stump, its plane of tissue as smooth as unscarred flesh and as natural as the day he was born.

A sudden rage overtook him. He felt such hatred for this girl before him as he had never felt for anyone nor anything in his life. Not the nanny that had denied him his vid-casts. Not his father who had found him disgusting and wanting. Not even his poor mother who they said died when he was born, inheriting the ire of his father and his estate.

He pointed towards Gwen with his remaining hand.

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust,” he began, incanting the most powerful spell he possessed. A spell that would take a terrible toll on his own body for his inability to sufficiently control its power.

“Horrid W—”

Chapter twenty-three

Life

The cold invasion of Edgar's hand thrusting into her Astral Body was like being penetrated by a rusty sword, its serrated edge mangling her flesh as it inched deeper.

A helpless spectator, Gwen watched the usurpation of her mind and body.

For a moment in time, she wanted nothing more than to end it all, to summon all the Lightning in the world, then go out in a blaze of brilliant plasma.

For all she knew, she could wake up in her old world, waking from a bad Midsummer Night's dream. Conceivably, she had exhausted her hour upon the stage, and now it was time to go home.

Then she felt it—that all-too-familiar sense of vertigo—and saw the gathering of black motes of dark matter within her body coalesce into lithe leeches, attaching themselves like tenebrous white-blood cells against an unwelcome pathogen.

Edgar's Astral Form suddenly panicked, struggling to pull free. With a sense of schadenfreude, she willed herself to hold on, to keep the man bound and tethered for the creatures to ravage. Here was her Astral Soul, her sanctum, and she forbid him to leave without paying a toll.

Slowly, the little motes coalesced, filling her mana conduit. Gwen instinctively sensed the opening of another Gate. Her Evocation conduit tapped something else, something existing in the space between spaces.

A wilting flood of enervating energy filled her conduits.

“Shield!"

With a surge of will, Gwen coalesced a mana shield formed of slick, tenebrous ink.

A Void Shield.

“Aaaarrrgh!”

Edgar's scream was music to her ears. She blinked, then was back in the Material world.

Her body slumped.

She knew this feeling; it was one she had experienced twice before. Dizzy with vertigo, she attempted to orientate herself, keeping her eyes on Edgar, who now screamed like a gutted pig. The bastard reached for the potion injector he had placed before Debora.

You lying sack of filth!

She saw him inject its precious cargo, bewilderingly manipulate the stump that was now his right hand, then turn to her with pure malice. Edgar began to chant, his voice thick and full of agony, his invocation dark and foreboding.

Gwen bodily pushed herself onto one side, freeing an arm for spell casting.

Come on! Come on! Her body moved as slow as molasses.

The man was down to his last few phrases now; he was pointing toward her and Gwen had no more time to think. She recalled the first thing that came to her mind and channelled the dark energy filling her conduits like eldritch ice.

“Blast Bolt!” She invoked, though what materialised wasn't the white-hot plasma of Elemental Lightning, but a dark, crackling line of nothingness, it was the absence of matter, a jet-black bolt rendering reality itself null.

The last of Gwen's vitality drain out with the spell. The lid of her eyes turned to lead. Her body, now thinner, frailer, almost skeletal, collapsed onto the stone table, a husk of its former self.

“Horrid W—”

Before Edgar could even complete his spell, he heard the familiar sound of Gwen’s desperate casting of her signature spell. He chose to ignore it, knowing full well he could recover.

"Blast Bolt!"

Before he could reach the final invocation, a bolt of dark energy violently stabbed into his flesh.

His spell shattered, its magic fell apart. Something had just mangled his astral body, damaging the conduits of mana that existed metaphysically within his corporal and incorporeal form.

Edgar looked down. He was surprised to find that he was now sans leg, sans a part of his torso and sans an arm. In the next heartbeat, spurts of blood gushed from all three wounds.

A mote of mana, built by contingency into an item that he had always worn around his left index finger, activated instantly.

A fully-empowered Teleportation, its destination pre-set, activated below him.

“NO!” Edgar cried out, “Leave me here! I can take her! I can take her!”

But the contingency spell would not heed his cry.

In the next moment, Edgar was gone.

With Edgar now out of range, the runes and Glyphs surrounding the menhir ceased to writhe, fading into the darkness. One by one, the barriers dispelled.

Not far from the monstrously large Egg. Gwen lay lifelessly on the table; her body pale and lifeless.

Slowly, a pulse of pale light filled the cavern. Morye's gift palpitated as though a throbbing heart, sending out tendrils of green energy, searching for that which would sustain its hostess.

It found sustenance not too far away, conveniently in the form of an ancient egg. An emerald haze poured from the amulet, taking advantage of the invasive Glyphs carved onto the menhir's surface, providing a penetrative channel into the being that existed within. The life force it found was ancient, rich and nourishing, and so the amulet drank deeply from the egg’s interior. It would only need a sliver of this energy to sustain its owner’s mortal body. As for the excess, its long-atrophied Soul Well could use a windfall.

A viridescent glow then suffused Gwen's shrivelled dermis. Her anorexic, shrunken form began to heal. Her sallow cheeks began to fill, returning to their usual plumpness. Her many injuries mended miraculously, as natural as if Elvia had suffused her with a torrent of Positive Energy. Gwen's heart, which only moments before had the weakest of palpitations, began to beat with renewed vigour. Her limbs restored to their slender, athletic self, her skin taking on a healthy glow, more vibrant and youthful than ever before, as supple as if she were a babe.

Badump!

Gwen inhaled as the amulet became once again dormant. She was hungry for life, hungry for air!

Alesia threw away the fourth potion injector.

From below, she resembled a goddess of flame, resplendent in her flickering regalia. Even her hair was a flowing mane of scarlet fire, swarming with firefly embers.

But even with all her abilities pushed to their utmost limits, Alesia felt powerless in front of the Mythical Serpent.

She had tried to manage her cooldowns, alternating between health and mana potions, but her body was at its alchemical limits. With each additional injection beyond the first, its effectiveness halved.

She could see the camp from her vantage point now, that was how close the creature had gotten. Another minute or so and the thing would ride roughshod through the vicinity. It needn’t even a direct hit; a near miss would utterly churn the camp to dust, burying those kids under a mountain of soil and debris.

Bung!

A firework lit up the top of a nearby hill.

Yue! They’re alright! Alesia's agitated palpitation returned to a state of placidity.

She once again faced the creature below her, its scales the petrol sheen of a pigeon’s neck.

Why was it attacking? Alesia wondered, though she realised “attack” was hardly the right word.

A creature of yore did not “attack” in the manner that baser creatures did. Like the seasons, they were driven by instinct beyond human ken, their very existence bringing unfathomable terror to the Frontier cities. Beings such as these were neither benevolent nor malevolent, no matter how often humans anthropomorphised their existence.

The creature, this serpent, was such a Mythic. Australia was an old and ancient continent, much of it still undeveloped. Within its vast brown land, creatures akin to the Shenlong of Chinese legend, the Quezacotl of the South American God-Kings and even the Ice and Fire Giants of Icelandic lore lurked or slumbered.

To her eyes, the serpent was a land god as old as time. Even harassed by fire and sulphur, it had chosen to ignore her assault.

That somehow made it worse.

The creature before her had no designs on her students. It wasn’t even aware of them. She had no idea why it was moving toward the city and could only guess as to its goal.

No matter its motive, it was her prerogative to try and divert the serpent's path.

A dagger materialised in her hand, an exotic blade with arcane designs of engraved flame not of terrestrial origin. Its handle and pommel were encrusted with rubies the size of pigeon eggs, a priceless artefact by any measure.

“O Efreet, Spirit of flames, heed my call…”

A mandala appeared beneath Alesia’s feet, three circles bisecting to form a triplicate, revolving faster and faster until it tapped into the Elemental Plane of Fire. The air around her instantly ignited, falling below in flaming sheets, turning the bush into a sea of fire.

As she gathered her will, intense heat from above and below fed into the mandala, collating and condensing the energy into her manifesting invocation.

A moment of silence reigned—the calm before the firestorm—then the flames on Alesia’s body, the combusting air, the forest fire below, extinguished simultaneously.

“Maximised Firestorm!”

The Cores shattered, sending jagged shards of splintered stone into her hand. Alesia winced as the priceless Salamander Cores lost their lustre.

The sky began to churn and turn, birthing a small star from the accumulated energy taken from the Plane of Fire. The serpent below raised its head to regard this new celestial object, its vision similar to the ochre sun setting upon the outback bush.

Fire fell, first in drops, then in sheets and finally in cascading torrents. It struck the rainbow scales of the serpent, marring the brilliance. The rest of the storm followed, quickly smothering the creature’s magnificent body.

Finally, she got its attention. An immense head, the size of a small hill, rose to regard Alesia; a tiny mote blazing in the sky.

She could feel its will upon her, its gaze burning her mind like molten lead, almost banishing her to the earth below,

“Move!” she screamed. “Move or be Purged!”

The firestorm raged and twirled. Alesia could see that it was peeling off some of the serpent’s scales.

“Move!” Alesia raised her hand and threw a harmless fireball toward its face, where it slid off.

The serpent halted.

To her shock and surprise, it stopped!

It then reared into the heavens; an impossible thing twenty kilometres long and the width of a football field, rising to meet her.

So this is how I die, Alesia moped sadly. I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet.

She wondered if her Master would teleport the Tower in time. Only a superstructure like that could deter a mythic being.

Ding!

A Message spell blazed beside her ear.

“Alesia! What’s your status? We’re just past Gate 47 and we can see it all the way from here! What is it doing?”

“I think I pissed it off, Jonas.”

“What?”

“I THINK I PISSED IT OFF, JONAS,” Alesia screamed into the Message device.

She felt ridiculous. Her Master had made her a peerless Combat Mage and now she was going to die, saving some nobody kids from a government school. Still, there were worse ways to go than to die duelling a Mythic being, a creature that had existed since time primordial.

If nothing else, she would have a kick-ass memorial plaque.

“Come at me!” she screamed at the serpent. She flanked it from the right, hoping to direct it towards the ocean. “Come get me, you big ugly worm!”

Ding!

Another Message spell burst into audibility beside her.

“Alesia! Alesia! For fuck’s sake, stand down and fly towards us.”

“You’re slow as fuck, Jonas,” Alesia shouted into her Device as the Serpent gave chase. “It’s your fault if I die, and I am going to haunt you!”

“Alesia, please.”

“Ohhhh shit, it’s fast! It’s fast, Jonas! How does something that fat even move this fast?” Alesia was having fun now, pivoting with a combination of Haste and Greater Flight, changing directions here and there as the serpent tried to bop her with its snout.

“Alesia, hold on!”

“I am trying! It’s a fucking Mythic snake, not a dog I am trying to dodge. Stop distracting me!”

Bung!

She became distracted.

A thunderclap resonated loudly from a direction south of the bushland, exploding in the air as a brilliant blue-purple electric lotus.

Gwen! Alesia's breath caught. She dipped low, avoiding the mythic Serpent and gliding close to its scales. The creature was beautiful up close, gorgeous, like flying beside a scintillating sheet of chromic colour.

Why is Gwen's signal so far away? She didn’t know the answer to her question, but she understood the meaning behind the firework. Gwen was in trouble, a great deal of trouble and she was calling for help.

“Alesia!” yet another Message spell bloomed into resonance beside Her, the voice of her decade-old partner, Jonas. “I… I LOVE YOU.”

“Not now, Jonas!” Alesia shut off her Message interface with a wave of her hand, dodging the serpent again and leading it off course.

I am coming for you, Gwen! Just hold on until I get there!

“Alesia…”

Jonas and the team moved toward the Mythic serpent at the utmost limit afforded by their unmapped Teleportation Circle. The further they went from the city, the less precise the teleportation became. Still, it was much faster than Flight and much safer than taking ground transport during an earthquake.

“Good news?” the Abjurer, Taj, asked nervously, watching a Jonas’ grey-blue eyes grew moist.

“She hung up,” he replied.

“My condolences," the Transmuter, Paul, sadly remarked as he finished the next Glyph. “It’s done! Hold on to your wands, here we go! Teleportation!”

As though lady Lazarus, Gwen rose from the dead.

She felt no sense of distress or anxiety, only an unnatural serenity.

When her most immediate memory surfaced, she looked towards where Edgar had fallen, finding only a floor splattered with dried blood clotting in the dust. Not far, on a second table, rested the unconscious form of Debora.

“Debs!" Gwen leapt from the table and ran towards her friend. Gingerly, carefully, Gwen placed a finger under Debora's nose.

Nothing? No! Was her friend dead? Gwen stared slack-jawed at the Transmuter, whose body remained ravaged by Gwen's lightning. She placed her fore and index over Debora’s neck. Thankfully, she felt a faint pulse.

She looked around the room for something that could help. To her surprise, she found the injector the Mage had used in haste. Thankfully, there was still a sliver left.

I hope this is enough! Gwen reminded herself that Edgar had staunched bleeding on a hand stump with this thing.

She slammed it as instructed into Debora’s thigh. Immediately the girl’s complexion took on a fairer hue, leaving behind the deathly pallor she’d had prior, healing the electric burns that wracked her dermis.

“Debora! Debora! Can you hear me?” She spoke into her friend’s ear, though she received no response. To her great dismay and anxiety, Debora wasn't breathing.

SHIT! Gwen forced herself to remain composed. Think, Gwen. THINK!

In a flash, the solution came to her.

Not wasting time, she began by massaging Debora’s chest, doing repetitions of thirty or so before checking and moving on to CPR. Recalling her training, she tucked Debora’s head back, opening the airway of her oesophagus, pinched her nose, then placed her mouth onto Debora's, sealing her lips. She blew two quick breathes, waiting for her chest to rise and fall before releasing her nostrils and repeating the action.

Cough! C-cough!

"Debs!" An indescribable happiness tingled Gwen's insides. “Debs, wake up!”

But the girl remained comatose.

“You. Life Bringer?” A stray thought intruded into Gwen mind, halting her renewed panic.

“Hello?” Gwen asked the empty room around her. “Is… is anyone there?”

She looked toward the dozen or so corpses that still littered the area around the menhir.

Oh, shit. Is one of them rising from the dead?

“You know the song to sing the ghost?” the voice in her head asked again.

“Where are you? Who are you?” Gwen commanded the room, feeling silly for doing so.

“Here,” the voice said.

Gwen looked towards the centre of the room, where only an egg-shaped menhir stood.

“Release me.”

“You are… a rock?” Gwen approached the menhir, sensing a kinship that she had felt only for someone like Percy, her brother.

“Remove shackles.”

Somehow, she knew innately that the voice meant no harm, as a child knows its parent to be benevolent. Gwen approached the menhir and pried off the spent Creature Cores, her bare feet stamping across magic circle.

As she wreaked havoc, the presence within the menhir grow stronger, until suddenly, she felt the coolness of falling rain, smelt the fresh loam of upturned earth, heard the quiet cascade of billabongs and the yawning of blood gums as they grew.

“We are grateful.”

“No worries,” Gwen spoke to the menhir, now realise it may been an egg. “Are you alright?”

“We are kin.”

Gwen felt absurd, carrying on a conversation with a salient stone egg. She searched her mind, scanning through recollections of The Bestiary and wondering what the thing could be. An Earthen Troll? A sentient Spirit from the Plane of Earth?

“Gift for kin?”

Gwen looked around her. More than anything, she was worried about Yue, about Elvia. Had Elvia escaped? Did she meet with Yue? Did they evacuate?

“Can you get me out of here?” Gwen asked the egg, wondering if it would sprout legs and arms.

“A simple thing.”

"Right."

“We cometh.”

Gwen looked around her, doing her best to ignore the fact that there were true-to-life dead bodies of actual human beings here and there, trying to keep herself from going insane.

Or, she told herself. I must be going mad. I am talking to a bloody rock!

To Alesia’s disbelief. The snake lost interest.

Like a bored boyfriend, it changed directions. Before she could chide its heartless rejection, a shimmering glow began to suffuse the length of the serpent, illuminating the heavens with a blast of chromatic aurora australis. Much to Alesia's shock, the mythic being began to shrink, moving towards some location buried in the valley below.

That’s where Gwen’s signal was! She panicked.

She gave chase, though the snake was the swifter of the two, its size giving it an impossible advantage even as it rapidly shrunk, leaving vast swaths of the landscape devastated beneath its girth. Alesia marvelled at the manner in which it eventually became the size of a tram, making for what seemed to be a cleft by the side of a sandstone cliff.

She watched the thing slither into the gully, knowing she had to follow.

More tremors shook the cavern. As Debora had done for her before, Gwen opened up her feeble Shield, hoping that it would be enough to keep them safe.

She then gazed at the silent egg. What did it mean, it was coming?

Thunk!

A chunk of rock the size of a car fell into the chamber.

Then she saw it—a serpent with a head the size of a sedan, slithering through the cavern’s mouth above them, meandering down towards her, its forked tongue darting this way and that, tasting the air.

“FUCK!" Gwen swore. Misfortune loves company.

The thing was huge, so it would take at least as much energy as she had poured into Edgar. She felt confident, though; for some reason, she was brimming with mana.

“Do not strike. We are arrived.”

There was a scent of Grevillea blooms.

Gwen looked towards the egg, then back towards the snake.

“You’re a snake?” Gwen asked bewilderingly. A talking snake!

“Gwen!”

A voice with the cadence of archangels resonated across the cavern. She looked past the serpent to see the angelic form of Instructor Alesia, garbed in a gown of fire, her hair flaming as anything, trailing behind a swarm of fireflies. She was resplendent; no wonder they call her the Scarlet Sorceress.

She’s alive! Gwen cried for joy. Oh, happy, happy day!

But of course, there remained the matter of the glittery snake even now tasting the air.

“Is the snake with you?” They both asked in tandem.

Their eyes met.

The snake looked at Gwen.

Gwen looked at Alesia.

Alesia looked at the snake.

The snake looked at Gwen again.

It hissed.

Chapter twenty-four

The Snake, the Lady and the Maiden Fair

Asalmon pink tongue, forked and quick as a whistle, darted from the serpent's lip-sheath as it hissed.

“It's not with you, Alesia?” Gwen intoned carefully.

“It's not with me. No,” her instructor affirmed warily, drifting a few feet away from it, keeping a safe distance in case it decided to no longer be so amiable.

“Friend?”

Its breath was eucalyptus after the rain.

“Friend,” Gwen said out loud, glancing up towards the snake, and then at Alesia.

“Yes.” Alesia’s brilliant eyes refracted the light from her flaming hair. “I am your friend, Gwen.”

“I meant the snake.” Gwen’s eyes moved between the two. “It’s friendly, I think?”

Friendly?! Alesia spluttered. “Gwen, that thing took out half the Royal National! On my fly-in, I saw kilometres of catastrophic damage! H-how did you call the snake here?”

Gwen shifted her gaze to the egg beside her, as did Alesia.

“Protect!”

The snake began to move, sliding its body down the slope effortlessly, making for the centre of the chamber. Gwen stepped back, avoiding the loosened debris. Alesia drifted downwards, following the serpent, wary of its alien intention.

The pair watched as the snake slithered toward the stone egg, fascinated by the manner in which it unhinged its jaws to wholly encompass the menhir.

Snap!

There was a sound of splintered stone as the bottom of the egg broke from the floor, hoisting the egg, which must have weighed several tons, into its fleshy maw.

It swallowed.

The egg slid into the creature’s undulating oesophagus, after which it reconnected its lower jaws. Bit by bit, the egg moved past serpent's neck and gullet, shrinking until its torso returned to normalcy.

“Safekeeping.”

Again, the serpent's thoughts were accompanied by synaesthesia, this time the salty brine of the southern sea.

Its task completed, it coiled into itself, lowering its head until it was almost at eye level with Gwen. Alesia promptly placed herself between her student and the serpent, shielding her from potential harm.

“Up.”

Its glare was the hot gold hush of noon.

Gwen regarded the helpful serpent. Mount it? Ride it? She looked towards Alesia, who appeared wary.

“Instructor, Debora is still unconscious.” Gwen pointed to her friend’s body still upon the table, where the only sign of her being alive was the faint movement of her chest. “Can you help her?”

“Maybe we should get you out first.”

“I’ve got a ride.” Gwen turned back to the serpent, admiring its immensity. In such proximity, she felt a kindred resonance; a sense of kinship.

Unconsciously, she extended her hand and patted the snake’s snout. Though its scales glistened wetly with a petrol sheen of prismatic chroma, the texture felt akin to fingernails—smooth, dry and unexpectedly warm, like touching hot sand at the beach.

“Gwen! What are you doing!” Alesia spluttered, beyond alarmed. Stupid girl! That's a mythic level beast, not a riding drake! She could see it now, the Serpent enraging, growing instantly to a length of twenty kilometres, smashing both of them into smithereens.

But Alesia was glad to be proven wrong. Without incident, Gwen persisted in climbing on top of the creature, shimmying her body forward until she gripped two protruding scales close to the snake’s head.

“I’ll be damned…” Alesia thought of another one of her Master's pieces of advice. Expect the unexpected. Watch, then speak, not before.

The snake rose into the air, its body levitating soundlessly, slithering with incredible dexterity and balance through the chasm until it reached the top, laying its head flat against the cliff’s edge. Gwen then slid from the creature, back onto solid ground.

“It is done.”

The cavern filled with the sound of shifting sand.

Gwen touched the serpent again. Its eyes had that distinct single slit unique to reptiles, but the surrounding iris was a swirl of rainbows, colours changing hues across a light-fantastic. Within its iris, she saw the figure of a girl held intact within a prismatic lens.

Beautiful. Gwen exhaled. The serpent's orbs were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen across two lifetimes.

The salmon pink tongue extended slowly, moving towards her face. She closed her eyes.

Alesia returned, cradling Debora below her chest, secured with both arms.

The tongue was as thick as Gwen’s thighs at the base, tapering until the forked split. It darted a dozen times in quick succession, tapping her hair, tasting her cheeks and caressing her chin, each touch but a split second.

“Kin.”

The empathic link was joyous. For a moment, Gwen saw a vision of blooming dogwood.

“Gwen…” Alesia guessed at the link between the two. “Assuming it’s not hostile, what does it want?”

“What do you want?” Gwen asked the serpent with the same tone of one asking for the weather.

“Rest.”

The smell of loam and earth accompanied its flickering tongue.

“It said it wants to rest,” Gwen reported to Alesia, who wore still her flaming regalia, burning away at her mana reserves.

“You sure it’s safe?” Alesia asked. She was running on fumes. The Efreet transformation was peerless but short-lived.

“Yes,” Gwen answered reverently. “It means us no harm.”

Alesia landed beside Gwen, carrying Debora. The flames surrounding her extinguished.

"Whoa, ma'am!"

To Gwen’s surprise, her instructor was left stark naked, exposing dozens of cuts and scrapes, as well a purple bruise stretching from her left hip to her right lumbar. Steam rose from Alesia's elementally tempered body, instantly evaporating any perspiration.

“Ma’am.” Her chest tightened. “W-what happened to you?”

“Rough night.” Alesia gave Gwen a wry smile, materialising a red robe from a ring and wrapping herself within the silky kimono. Other items of clothing appeared, all in shades of maroon, cherry, pink and carmine. She was still in the midst of hurriedly covering her shame when the salmon pink tongue of the serpent dashed towards Alesia, who froze as it tapped her cheek.

“Not Kin.”

Gwen wrinkled her nose. There was a textured stench of mangroves at low tide.

“Usurper.”

“Why’s it looking at me like that?” Alesia nervously inquired. She had already burnt through several months’ worth of Magic Items in HDMs and had no desire to consume another outfit.

“It’s saying you’re are a usurper,” Gwen passed the snake’s sentiment toward her instructor, likewise unsure of what the word implied.

“One sec.” Alesia gave Debora's cheeks a light slap. "No luck. We need to get her to a hospital. Levitate!”

She set the body of the young Transmuter to float. “She might still be glamoured.” Alesia placed a hand over Debora’s face and pulled open one of her eyelids. The pupil within was fully dilated, displacing Debora's amber iris. "Did you say, 'usurper'?"

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I guess all humans are usurpers when it comes to these nature types. Just make sure it stays away from us.” Alesia covered Debora's indecent body with a towel, then studied Gwen, whose hair and face was matted with dried blood. “So, you wanna tell me what happened here?”

Gwen related her tale, omitting nothing that she knew, not even the part when she had sent out a bolt of darkness to cut Edgar in twain. It was about time that someone finally knew, someone she trusted and could help her decipher its mystery.

"Alesia, do you know if the others are alright? If Elvia made it?" Gwen enquired with a tone full of anxious agitation.

To her disappointment, Alesia shook her head.

"I can tell you the basecamp is safe, but I haven't seen Elvia." The pained look on her student's face made her want to reach out and comfort her, but there was still a snake scenting Gwen with its forked tongue.

Ding!

Just as Alesia tried to assuage Gwen by suggesting she try calling the girls on her Message Device, a spell bloomed beside Alesia's ear.

“Alesia! You still alive?” It was Jonas, her partner.

“Yeah, I am fine.”

“Oh, thank God!” The voice choked.

“Where’s the snake?” another voice enquired. "It disappeared entirely. All I am seeing are new valleys.”

“It’s-” Alesia paused, suddenly realising she had arrived at a cross-road.

Ignoring the Message, at least for now, the Scarlet Sorceress observed her student. Gwen stood beside the serpent with a hand upon its snout, caressing the Mythic with the vacant expression of one stroking an oversized house cat.

There was a decision to be made here; a judgement call with ramifications well beyond her ability to speculate. She had seen the damage the serpent could cause first hand, but she had also observed that it had no intent or hostility towards humanity.

If they attacked the Mythic with the full intention of destroying it, what would be the cost? What would it be like if a land god brought to bear all its power? Would the skies turn dark and the seas boil? Would the ground split asunder and swallow Sydney whole? Most importantly, if she was to tell her companions, tell the Tower, that this beast from ages immemorial was harmless, that it would far prefer to “rest”, who would believe her?

Concurrently, what would happen to Gwen if the powers that be found out about her Mythic-whispering aptitude?

It was an answer she needed to know. According to the Tower's records, only the priests of old and venerated religions and the outlandish folk who lived in the Wildlands could communicate with Mythic tier beings without having their minds turning the consistency of crème fraiche.

If anything, she had to ensure Gwen didn’t fall into the wrong hands.

“Alesia? You still there?”

“No idea where the snake is,” Alesia replied. “What’s your ETA to my loc?”

“We are inbound. ETA two minutes.”

“I’ll meet you outside. Look for my flare.”

“Ma’am?”

“Can you ask the snake to hide somewhere?” Alesia demanded of her student. “I’ve got four very serious people incoming in about a minute and they are not going to like this at all.”

Gwen turned to the serpent, who seemed to read her intent at once. It slithered outside the cavern, its hues changing until it became a wisp of air.

She looked down at her hand that only a moment ago had touched the beautiful, mysterious thing and saw that in her palm was a scale, scintillating like an opal.

“Gift for Kin.”

The glow from the scale was that of golden wattles in full bloom.

The serpent was gone, its presence erased by some force unknowable to mortals like Gwen and Alesia, fading into the dark emerald sea.

“Hold on to that,” Alesia advised her apprentice-in-name. "That's going be a top-notch ingredient for a Magic Item."

Gwen tucked the scale into a pocket in her cloak.

They listened to the wind, making sure that the serpent was indeed gone.

“Gwen, listen to me very carefully.” Alesia turned to her student, her face completely serious. “I may have just initiated something so stupid, so irrational, that if things so south, both of us are probably looking at exile or execution.”

“You have?” Gwen gagged at the unexpected turn.

“When this is over, I am going to take you to see my superior. Until then, you are to speak to no one about the serpent. You have not seen it, have not felt it, you have certainly not spoken to it.”

Alesia extended a hand and fired off a crimson flower.

“Say nothing, understand?"

Gwen didn’t. But she nodded.

The flight of Mages who landed at the mouth of the cavern came in full-fledged combat gear. In the uncertain darkness before the coming of dawn, they were four pinpoints of illumination that spontaneously grew larger, descending with terrific haste but landing like felines.

Gwen marvelled as the men hailed Alesia with an opened-palmed salutes. “Ma’am!”

“At ease.” Alesia dismissed them casually. One by one, the men's bodies lost their rigidity.

A man with bushy brows and a thick mutton chop fell in beside her.

“Are you alright Alesia? What happened? Where’s the snake? Are you injured?”

“I could use a bit of a touch-up.” Alesia lifted her t-shirt to reveal a bruise writhing across her pale skin. “Do your thing, Jonas. My pots stopped working after the fifth one.”

“You’re too reckless.” Jonas grimaced, carefully extending a hand. "Excuse me. Cure Moderate Wounds!”

Positive Energy suffused Alesia’s abdomen. Gwen's instructor tensed as the regenerative itch of mending flesh tickled her bones until finally, she let loose a long, tender breath.

“Had to hold that in,” Alesia joked casually. Gwen blushed with the guilt of not having realised the extent of her instructor’s injuries, amplifying the anxiety of not knowing how her friends had fared.

“Are the others alright?” Gwen blurted to Alesia's companions. “The students, I mean. We were at the camp near the entrance to the Zone.”

“As far as I know,” one of the men replied with a British accent.

“This is Taj, he’s our Abjurer.” Alesia introduced the Indian, a stocky soldier with wet, olive skin, a neat goatee and a hawk-beaked nose.

"Is Elvia alright? Did she make it back?" Gwen persisted.

Taj shook his head.

"Don't know who that is,” It was Jonas, the medic, who answered. The healer then dropped to one knee to examine Debora. "Assuming they're fine, they'll be transported back to a Forward Operating Base. Hmm— best we get this one to a hospital ASAP though,” he advised. “I can restore her here, but she’s going to need more than field dressing. Paul, give me a hand.”

Paul introduced himself as the Conjurer-Transmuter of the group, whose job was to translocate the members via means of Shared Flight, Teleportation Circle and Conjure Object. The unassuming, middle-aged man reminded Gwen of an accountant.

"I'll Message ahead to Sydney," the youngest of the group joined in before turning to Gwen. “B-B-Billy. It’s a p-pleasure.”

“Billy stutters when he’s nervous,” Alesia apologised to Gwen. “Why are you nervous, Bill?”

“S-she… er…” Billy pointed to the visible gap between Gwen's robe.

Gwen pulled Edgar's cloak tightly around her chest.

“Oh.” Alesia felt like an idiot. She had neglected to offer Gwen a pair of shirt and shorts.

“Attention!” Alesia commanded, and the four stood ramrod straight. “About face!”

The men turned, looking outward toward the newly minted landscape of the Royal National Frontier.

From her Storage Ring, Alesia materialised casual items of clothing for Gwen.

“They're dead if they peep, so get changed.”

Gwen struggled into her new clothes, discreetly transferring the scale into a back pocket.

Alesia knelt to make sure Debora was decent for transportation.

“I'll take that. We’ll send it in for analysis.”

Gwen handed over Edgar's cloak.

“At ease,” Alesia said after a minute or so, and the men turned to see to their surprise, a girl very nearly the height of Alesia, if not a little taller.

“H-H-Hello.” If anything, Billy's stutter had worsened.

“Come on, Bill,” Taj joked with a lopsided grin. “It's not like you haven't used your Scrying for less-than-honourable purposes. That's a Diviner’s perk, ain't it?”

“Oi!” Alesia barked at her sergeant. "Leave him alone."

Billy’s eyes moved between the ground and Gwen alternatively.

“What's Billy's job?” Gwen sidled closer to Alesia.

“Communications specialist,” Alesia said without a hint of sarcasm. “He’s fresh out of Defence Force Academy. They don't make em like they used to, eh?”

Paul, Billy and Taj stayed behind to collate data on the ritual, or at least, what had remained of it. Jonas, meanwhile, offered to escort Alesia, Gwen and the comatose Debora towards a Forward Operations Base set up midway between the Shield Fort and their original base camp.

“You’ve flown before?”

Gwen shook her head.

“You’ll love it.” Alesia smiled encouragingly. “Just hold on tight.”

“Ready?” Paul asked, then opened his gate to the Elemental Plane of Air. “Mass Flight!”

“Be safe!” Taj called out to Alesia. “No detours, please!”

Gwen felt an uplifting current suffuse her surroundings, not in the manner of a breeze about one’s body, but a sense of buoyancy. As they rose into the air, she realised she had underestimated magical flight. While inert, there was no feeling of momentum, inertia or resistance. Failing to balance her weight, she began to summersault uncontrollably.

Two revolutions later, Alesia grabbed Gwen’s hand and stabilised her tumbling. I have become an Easter Show balloon, she cried internally.

"Let's go!"

"Oh!" Gwen inhaled a briny breath of morning air as the land gave way, first mauve then marigold as they climbed.

When she dared to open her eyes once more, she saw the curvature of her new world.

Chapter twenty-five

Candles

It took several minutes for Gwen to cognitively register that she was flying.

Not only that, she was carving through the air without the aid of the Wright Brothers.

To her right was The Coastal Trail, where the emerald bush gave way to jagged shale, assailed by white shoals of water frothing like milk against the ochre cliffs, besides which the South Pacific extended, changing hue from aqua to ultramarine, then suddenly dropping off into the dark depth of the continental shelf.

To her left were sundered hills and muddy lakes; the aftermath of the Mythic's passing, leaving behind bleeding canals of upturned earth. Even now, trees toppled into newly formed ravines, moved by underground reservoirs emerging from the pressure of crushed sandstone crumbling in hidden caverns.

Elvia.

Yue.

Everyone.

Gwen wasn't sure whether it was the anxiety making her nauseated or the vertigo of flying a hundred metres freely through the air.

Had Elvia made it? Her mind churned with distress. Not even the adrenaline of supernatural flight could offset her worry.

“Alesia, do you think…” Gwen tried to speak, but her voice was barely audible against the blustering cacophony of moving air.

A Message spell bloomed beside her ear.

“I am activating a Private Message spell.” Alesia’s voice resonated in her ear. “What’s wrong, tiger?”

“I am worried about Elvia and the others,” Gwen replied, noting the spell was two-way. Comparatively, her school's device was a simple thing, incapable of complex Divination algorithms.

Alesia squeezed Gwen’s hand reassuringly, hoping it would relieve some of her stress.

Unconsciously, the duo accelerated, Alesia's uncertainty feeding more mana into the Flight spell. The boost solicited a curious glance from Jonas, who matched their new velocity.

“Gwen, I know you are worried about the girls, but you must also consider your circumstances,” Alesia replied solemnly. “Promise me that you will tell no one, not even the girls, about the serpent and about your new elemental abilities. It will only put them in danger.”

Gwen observed the weight behind Alesia's proposal. “I promise,” she answered her instructor.

Hovering beside her protégé, Alesia mulled over troubling thoughts of her own. Though the crisis at hand appeared resolved, it had left them far more questions than their resolution could provide.

Alesia recalled that, in final moments of her encounter, the Mythic had possessed little to no interest in making further ingress towards the city. Instead, it had withdrawn towards Gwen's location. In hindsight, Alesia guessed that it probably had something to do with Gwen wounding the Mage who called himself Edgar.

As for Edgar's part, the ritual provided a clue. In so far as sealing mandalas went, the ceremony was elaborate, requiring esoteric knowledge of the arcane spellcraft.

Then there was the fact that wounded Mage had escaped while missing half his body and two of his limbs. A Teleportation Contingency Ring set to one’s vital signs was beyond precious. Alesia had one herself, though she disliked equipping it because, once triggered, it took her out of combat and back into the Tower. As Efreet Form drained her vitality, it would be ludicrous if she Teleported away at the initiation of a Firestorm. That was why she preferred Contingency Healing Rings and single-use items like the Dimension Door gem.

As for Gwen’s assailant, the price of a ring with a Contingency trigger tied to a long-range Teleport would cost just over five thousand HDMs, enough to buy a building in the heart of Sydney's CBD. Ironically, that wasn’t even the worst of it, for there were very few Enchanters in the world capable of creating such an item. For both Alesia and her brother-in-craft, their Contingency Rings were heirloom objects brought over from Europe. A Mage in possession of such a thing, therefore, couldn't be just anyone.

Finally, there was Faceless, but what was an infamous terrorist like him doing in a place like this? Was he after her? Had he been involved in the serpent's rampage?

There were too many unanswerable questions assailing Alesia at once, though for now, an additional problem stabbed at her bosom.

How would her Master receive the kitten she’d just picked up?

The basecamp came into view.

Now bathed in the light of dawn, the destruction wrought the previous night became evident. The bunker had collapsed like a crushed tent; its iron supports bent and twisted. The main building, where the instructors had last met, was being excavated by what looked to be AMSA engineers.

The trio landed, Alesia and Jonas gracefully, Gwen with a heavy thump that jarred her knees.

A Mage in a fluoro high-vis vest splintered from the group to intercept them. He was hailed by Jonas, who lifted a flap in his jacket to reveal an emblem.

The scowl of bureaucratic annoyance on the Mage's face immediately turned into a look of wariness. "Greetings," the Mage wrung his hands before managing a 'sir!' nervously.

"Foreman, give me a sit-rep." Jonas was a different person when not talking to Alesia, Gwen noticed.

"The excavation's almost done," the foreman replied. "But there are bodies down there. We're waiting for the coroners."

"Bodies?" Gwen's voice quivered. "What bodies? Whose is it?"

The foreman eyeballed the teenage girl, challenging her presence before meeting Jonas' eyes.

"Let's take a walk." Jonas tiled his head to their left. The two moved towards the excavation site.

Gwen wanted to follow, though a tug from Alesia obstructed her.

"No." Her instructor's hand was firm. "You don't need to see this."

"But…" Gwen felt her stomach knotting. "Sergeant Boone… Mr Thomas and Mr Dylan."

“I am sorry," Alesia insisted, her hand like a vice grip. She already felt guilty that Gwen had dealt with Edgar. In the future, as a Combat Mage, the girl may very well become familiar with the morbid reality of mangled corpses, but for now, she would prefer a less traumatised protégé.

Despite Alesia's best intentions, Gwen struggled to reconcile the reality in front of her. These teachers had taught her for half a year! She knew them by name—their idiosyncratic quirks, their mannerisms, their likes and dislikes. Mr Boone liked to talk about his military days. Mr Thomas owned two cats. Mr Dylan had a fiancée.

"Don't you want to find out if Yue and the others are safe?" Alesia demanded mercilessly.

Gwen nodded.

"Then let us find out." They rose into the air again. "Your friends should be safe by now at the F.O.B.”

Jonas caught up with them a few minutes later. "Alesia…" He consulted his partner.

"You can tell her, Jonas," Alesia asserted. "She's a strong girl."

"Four dead,” Jonas declared gravely. "Boone, Evans, Thomas, Dylan."

“Five," Gwen added after a moment of silence.

Alesia saw that the girl's knuckles were white with tension.

"Five," Alesia confirmed. "Crusoe's still somewhere out in the woods."

"Jesus." Jonas spat, taking another gander at Gwen. "Were they after the kids?"

"Probably." Alesia did not want to reveal any more to her partner before she’d had a chance to speak to her Master.

Jonas nodded and said no more. His leader was in an evasive mood.

They flew in silence until the sea of emerald came to an abrupt halt. Below, the landscape transformed into the low, stunted shrubbery of the tablelands. In the distance, they could make out the F.O.B.

About two kilometres out, an Aerial Mage unit in digital combat jackets and winged jackboots intercepted the trio. Again, Jonas opened a flap on his coat, after which they were allowed to pass.

Gwen scanned the camp until she found a spot where dozens of humanoid dots in black, white and grey tartan congregated.

“I see them!” she uttered breathlessly.

"I'll drop you off." Gwen's urgent desire to be immediately amongst her friends brought a smile to Alesia's lips. "Jonas, can you take Debora to the triage centre?”

Jonas withdrew without complaint.

When Gwen and Alesia alighted in the yard, they became surrounded by a ring of students whose faces were livid with excitement.

"Oh my God! Did you see that?"

"Is that Gwen?!"

"Ergh, there she goes, stealing the limelight."

An abrupt loathing for her peers erupted from Gwen's chest. Didn't they think of anyone but themselves? We almost died! Your instructors lie mangled underneath concrete slabs!

"GWEN!" The familiar voices were music to her ears.

"Evee! Yue!" Gwen broke from Alesia to dart past a crowd of stickybeaking students.

"Ah! My face!"

"She stepped on me!"

"That bitch!"

The girls meet one another halfway.

You’re all safe! Her heart soared.

"All for one!" She exclaimed in a moment of uncontrollable jubilance.

"We missed you so much!" Yue was hugging Gwen's waist and pushing her head into her bosoms. "Holy SHIT, I was so worried! Elvia told me what happened, that you tried to save her, and you fought that Crusoe FUCKER alone!"

Elvia had long lost control of her emotions, tears the size of sultanas falling from her luminous blue eyes, "I am sorry Gwen… I ran away… I ran away, Gwen. I was scared."

"Oh, Evee, it was the right thing to do. I would have been in greater danger if you hadn't gone!"

The three of them squeezed into a crushing huddle.

"What happened to Debora?" Elvia asked between her choking sobs.

The euphoric moment deflated.

"She'll be okay," Gwen muttered. She hoped to God the healing magic of this world could mend lightning strikes.

“I’ll be back for you in the evening,” Alesia shouted over the din of squealing teenagers. Gwen waved to her instructor, wanting to say another word of thanks before she left.

Instead, Alesia took the air, flying toward the command tent, worshipped by supplicating students cooing at the incredulous sight.

With the spectacle over, the girls retired to the limited privacy of temporary shelters that had been set up by army engineers. The trio entered a tent where bunks were placed four by a dozen, with heavy curtains dividing each section.

“How did you escape that horrid Mage?” Elvia asked, her eyes puffy and swollen. “Did you… did you…”

“Instructor Alesia saved me,” Gwen told a technical truth.

“I saw that titanic battle in the sky between Alesia and the snake!” Yue began excitedly. “Did you see it, Gwen? It was incredible.”

“I was pretty deep in the woods by that point.” Gwen replied. “I could only see the fireworks over the tree line.”

“It was incredible!” Yue continued as if she was the one who had confronted the serpent, describing in detail spell after spell, only a few of which Gwen had heard of before.

“What about you, Evee?” Gwen asked, wondering how her friend had fared after their separation.

“I ran the way we came,” Elvia recounted. “I saw your lightning spell go on and on, so I ran as far as I could until I saw Yue’s fireworks back in the clearing.”

“Anyone try stopping you?”

Elvia shook her head, sending out flailing strands of flaxen hair. “There were a few Goblins and some other magical beasts who were trying to flee the snake, but they left me alone.”

“We must have wracked up another hundred or so kills.” Yue beamed proudly. “The officer who saved us told me that we had done well and that we’re going to be commended for our bravery.”

“Did you find any of the instructors?” Elvia cut in suddenly, “Mr Crusoe turned out to be that evil Mage, does that mean…”

Gwen felt a pang of guilt, though her friends were old enough to face the truth.

“Alesia said Mr C was dead long before we met Evil Crusoe,” Gwen answered with a tone of forlorn sadness. “As for the others—Mr Dylan, Mr Thomas, Mr Boone and Mr Evans—they found their remains in the main building.”

“…”

“…”

With that, the conversation died.

Elvia dug her face into Gwen's chest, wracked with quiet sobs. Yue stared at the ceiling, her thoughts unknowable. End to end, the three of them laid in one bunk, quietly observing the slow rotation of a whirlybird as it pumped out the rising heat of their bodies.

Elvia was the first to fall asleep, her constitution too weak to sustain a night and a day of activity and distress. Yue likewise shut her eyes, the anxiety of Gwen’s absence displaced at last.

Gwen looked up at the ceiling, where the scaffolding expanded like a spider web across the rectangular canvas, thinking of Alesia’s warning and the uncertain future ahead.

In her old world, she had experienced on television the horrors of September 11, though as a Sydney-sider, the precipitous moment of twenty-first-century history had felt unreal, more akin to a movie.

Likewise, old world Sydney had been a middle-class haven. No mass-shootings, no serial murderers, no mass-poverty and virtually without violent crime.

The idea of violent death was something that had never occurred to her, nor had it happened to someone she knew in any capacity; not a family member, a friend nor anyone in her social orbit.

Now suddenly, five teachers who had taught her for half a year had suddenly ceased to be—gone, disappeared, evaporated into thin air for no reason. They had not died for some grand act, they had not died to save their students nor to make a last stand. They had died randomly, purposelessly; becoming collateral.

Would her death be the same? A chance encounter with malevolence, then no more? Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow, then naught but a dusty death?

Lacking the answers, her eyes grew heavy, mesmerised by the whirlybird's ceaseless rotation, closing slowly until taken by the undertow of troubled sleep.

Chapter twenty-six

Follow the Red Rabbit

Alesia returned to find the girls sharing a meal of military rations for supper, abused by the unspeakable texture of mystery meat. Even in a world of Spellcraft, rations remained optically unrecognisable nutritional sludge.

“You want in on the officer’s mess?” Alesia laughed when Gwen told her that she had just eaten a meat pie in liquid form. “We had a three-course meal, choice of steak, fish or chicken, all Wildland cuts.”

The girls were indeed interested.

“I am going to have to borrow Gwen for a few days; a week, tops,” Alesia informed Yue and Elvia. “Gwen has seen too much so we’re going to have to brainwipe her.”

“What?” Elvia leapt from her bunk.

“She’s joking Evee, yeesh.” Yue pulled Elvia down. “You're joking, right?”

Alesia chuckled. Full of uncertainty, the girls awkwardly reciprocated the mirth.

“I promise you Gwennie will be fine,” Alesia stated, glancing at Gwen.

Gwennie? She made a face. Am I a stray cat?

“When do we leave?” Gwen asked.

“How about now?”

She looked over toward her friends, who both possessed expressions suggesting they weren't ready to be parted so soon.

“Is tomorrow possible?” Gwen guiltily requested of Alesia.

“Sure. I’ll make the arrangements with Paul. He'll appreciate the rest.”

“Thank you, ma’am," Gwen answered gratefully.

Alesia casually dismissed her gratitude. “Your school is going to have some major disruptions as the new instructors come in, so expect to stay home or at your dorms over the next few weeks.”

The three inclined their heads. By now the news of the instructors who had perished had spread, extinguishing the gleeful, come-what-may attitude of the cohort.

“See you tomorrow!”

As the night crept in, the girls pushed their bunks together and again slept side by side, feeling safer for the familiar company.

Jun and Henley came to visit, thanking Yue profusely for taking charge of the chaotic situation. Their Diviner had yet to recover from the cataclysmic event, his happy-go-lucky lustre succumbing instead to a numbing depression. Jun himself had taken on a stoic air, assuming an attitude that was no longer convivial.

Unlike the girls in first year, the boys would have their final exams in three months, after which they would be graduating. With all future Field Trips cancelled or delayed, their military commissions were no longer guaranteed.

After the boys said their goodbyes, the girls turned to their futures, speculative as it may be.

“I am sticking with the military track,” Yue declared after organising her thoughts. “We all have to enrol as soon as we turn sixteen anyway, so I am going to apply for an officer cadetship position.”

Gwen wondered if she should inform Yue about Alesia’s intentions, though she knew better than to run her mouth. Her bombastic companion furthermore boasted that she had been approached by several recruiters who had drawn a lovely pie in the sky for her.

“That’s awesome,” Elvia congratulated her friend. Unlike her peers, she would be enrolled at the Sydney Arcane University to study medicine and the healing arts. Upon graduation, she would serve two years under the Royal Army Medical Corps, after which she was free to pursue specialisation.

“What about you, Gwen? You could join me in the military. You know what they'd call us?” Yue’s eyes were full of anticipation.

Oh, God, Gwen grimaced. "The dynamic duo?"

"You're damn right!"

When it was Gwen's turn, she found herself lost for words. In truth, she had no idea what she wanted to do beyond gaining more proficiency in Spellcraft. Join the military? Gwen felt no particular aversion towards killing magical beasts, but if they had to fight other human beings—people like Edgar—there was little chance she could stomach such a thing. If anything, a job where she could take advantage of her old world knowledge in enterprise or administration would be ideal.

At the thought of fighting other human beings, a vision of Edgar's stumps squirting in tune with his beating heart paralysed her lips. She could taste the saltiness of his iron blood dashing like hot lead over her face.

Nausea washed over her like a tide as the violent synaesthesia came and went.

"Gwen, are you alright? You're white as a sheet!"

A dose of Elvia's Positive Energy dispelled the hollowness in Gwen's bosom, restoring her breath to a normal cadence. With both arms, she enveloped her flaxen Cleric, warmed by Elvia's angelic presence while simultaneously haunted by the inevitable separation their futures would bring.

“Alright, it’s fired up.” Paul finished linking the last of the Glyphs after expending the requisite volume of HDMs to light up the Teleportation Circle. “Have a safe trip, you two.”

Gwen saw a flash of cobalt and silver as the circle ignited. There was a feeling of being lurched through something paradoxically tangible, yet immaterial, followed by a lurching sensation of displacement, akin to falling in a dream.

The last thing Gwen saw was Yue and Elvia waving their hands at her. Then in the next moment, she was in a dark room filled with arcane wards.

A taste of bile filled her mouth.

“Still in one piece, tiger?” Alesia asked. “Didn’t accidentally leave anything behind, did you?”

“I am fine,” Gwen replied, swallowing discreetly, patting herself down to ensure that nothing was amiss.

In her old world, Teleportation was nigh-impossible. Spatial displacement ran into all kinds of problems with quantum physics, energy paradoxes, loss of mass, as well as the intellectually morbid idea of continuous death and rebirth. According to Alesia’s description though, the spell wasn't teleportation in the literal sense but a kind of wormhole movement achieved by creating a jump through the fabric of the Prime Material Plane—their world—and the Astral Plane.

“Where are we?” Gwen realised she should have asked before they had left. Alesia had simply said that they were going to see her Master, but Gwen had no idea as to their destination.

“Well, right now we’re in my apartment.” Alesia coaxed her to follow. “We need to be a little more formal where we’re going.”

They exited a chamber akin to a set piece from some mad wizard’s dungeon. Past the heavy iron door, Gwen was surprised to find themselves in a penthouse overlooking Sydney Harbour. The scene was familiar, for she had seen the same view from an adjacent cove—that of her uncle's manor.

“Bradfield Park?” Gwen announced, surprising herself by identifying all the landmarks. “We’re back in Sydney?”

“Yep.” Alesia went by the glass facade of the open kitchen and popped the fridge, pouring herself a glass of water before motioning at the jug to Gwen, who declined. “Nothing like a well-enchanted network of Teleportation Circles. Expensive to use, of course, but very convenient.”

“But…” Gwen felt her mind reeling. They were four hours away by bus! Two hundred kilometres in an instant! She had seen how many crystals Paul had to burn. It was enough to keep her training for a month! All that to save six hours? She made her incredulous discovery known to Alesia, who laughed, spilling a little water.

“Oh Gwen, what you call 'resource' is chump change at our tiers,” she informed her jovially. “Our stipend alone is about ten thousand LDMs a month, or four hundred HDMs, give or take. If I were in a tier one city, my pay would double.”

Gwen flushed with embarrassment, feeling like an Amish rustic enquiring about motorised transport. Beside her, Alesia walked toward the panoramic vista of the harbour, her lovely face framed by floor-to-ceiling panes.

“Look, you can see your uncle’s house just around the bay.”

Gwen joined Alesia at the window, feeling more nostalgic than impressed. Her North Shore office at Milson's Point shared the eastern portion of the same cove. Though the buildings were different, the landscape itself remained the same.

“When Bartlett called me, I was standing right here. For a while, I entertained the notion of dropping in from the sky. But the CBD has airspace restrictions, so I ended up taking the car.”

“Thanks again for saving me, ma'am.”

"Ah, don't mention it." Alesia grinned.

She drew past the windows with the ease of a dancer, gesturing for Gwen to follow her up to the second level. Above, marble tiles gave way to darkly stained spotted gum. Alesia’s bedroom was huge; its walk-in-closet was bigger than Gwen’s bedroom.

The grandiose luxury was dizzying, more so because Gwen had previously achieved the same strata of wealth. Now returned to her teenage poverty, the good life felt as out of reach to her as the shimmering waters of Lavender Bay below.

Alesia removed a few outfits from a closet that was a dozen segments deep, then began sorting them by style, storing spares in her spatial ring.

“Find whatever fits and put it on. Something semi-formal,” she advised.

“Where are we going?”

“A sombre and solemn place where people have a stick up their arse,” Alesia cautioned her student. “We're going to see my Master. He's a stickler for dress code. Says it shows sincerity.”

Gwen uncomfortably sifted through Alesia’s wardrobe. Almost everything was red, leaving her with scarce choices for subtlety.

Her instructor opted for a maroon, high-waisted pencil skirt paired with a dark sleeveless cotton top. Gwen put on a vermillion tartan skirt and a white blouse, finishing with a pair of black heels.

“You’re a natural!” Alesia commended Gwen for walking in four-inch heels without tripping. "Well done!"

“I've always had good balance,” Gwen tactfully acknowledged her instructor's praise.

After making up their faces, the duo returned to the Teleportation Circle. Once inside, Gwen watched Alesia fiddle with the Glyphs until the circle once more lit up with the silver-blue light of Conjuration.

“When we arrive, there are going to be some very unpleasant people. Stay cool and stay behind me.”

The circle flared; they were suddenly elsewhere.

Instructor and student materialised on a dark obsidian platform, framed by a well-lit ceiling. The interior of their immediate surroundings consisted of geometric decor extending in every direction, beginning a network of corridors. There was a sterile, hospital-like ambience about the place, so quiet that Gwen could hear herself breathe.

Two guards, jackbooted and attired in ivory, approached from a guard station overlooking the Teleportation Circle.

“Major De Botton.” One of them furrowed his brow at Gwen. “Ma’am, your companion is unauthorised for access." The other accosted them.

“I know that,” Alesia squinted at the man’s breast badge, “Cadet Edwards.”

“We shall submit her to quarantine.”

One of the guards moved to take Gwen's arm, only to be checked by Alesia, who placed herself between Gwen and the sentries. “I need to see Magister Kilroy.”

“Do you have an appointment, Major De Botton?”

“No, do I need one?”

“I am afraid so, Major.”

Alesia snapped her fingers and sent a Silent Message to her Master.

“Master, I am here, and I have brought the anomaly,” she spoke to the air.

In the next moment, a Message spell bloomed beside the guard’s ear. The sentries regarded one another before turning to face the two women.

“Proceed to platform five,” the guard named Edwards stated with suppressed impatience. “The Magister will see you now.”

Alesia motioned for Gwen to follow.

The foursome soon mounted a Levitation Station. Without a sound, it began to drift, travelling through the lattice network of corridors and platforms that to Gwen, appeared to extend forever.

At the apex, their platform docked onto an open terrace. The only notable decor was a set of double doors in stained oak, intricately carved with leaves and vines, with a garland of laurels meeting at the apex. The threshold resembled a portal to another world, somewhere far removed from the human artifice of the city.

Gwen turned to Alesia with a look of awe.

Alesia took her hand protectively in her own, then moved toward the door, giving the guards the cold shoulder as she did so.

With equal disregard, the guard descended.

“Walken's dogs!” Alesia swore cattily. “Told you they had a stick up their arse.”

“Where are we?” Gwen asked for the third time.

“You’re about to find out. Feel free to ask him yourself.”

The double doors parted as though on cue, swing aside with a classic yawn and creak. As the portal opened, the sterile light became bathed in a warm, iridescent glow. Gwen's jaw fell as a scent of evening star jasmine enveloped their surroundings.

Past the threshold, the expectant rigidity of floor gave way to the soft depression of rich loam, burying her thin heels. Watching Alesia removing her shoes, Gwen followed suit, feeling the turf between her toes like a fine fleece.

“Impossible,” Gwen mouthed, her eyes protesting the impossible splendour.

They were no longer in some office building, but an elfin grot, covered from ceiling to floor in viridescent mosses, grasses and small white flowers.

In the middle of a natural atrium was a set of furniture consisting of a modest bed, a table for four, transmuted wooden chairs, and rows upon rows of bookshelves formed from the walls itself. From the ceiling, lumen-globes hung like fruits, diffusing a gentle light.

“Alesia, is this paradise?”

“Not exactly.” Alesia giggled, her face full of expectation of what was to come. “This is what you call a Pocket Dimension.”

Gwen breathed in the fecund air, drunk on the surplus of oxygen. "Oh!"

Suddenly, a pair of hands, rigid and smooth, placed themselves on her shoulders. From behind Gwen came a pleasant scent of incense cedar. She turned, facing an exquisitely beautiful face, impossibly perfect, possessing twin irises in the form of citrine crystals.

A giantess now held Gwen captive; a woman in a flowing fabric of moving bark, barely covering a pair of perky, sculpted breasts narrowing into a wasp’s waist, supported by long, anatomically impossible stems. Upon closer inspection, Gwen noted with dismay that it was her face which stared back at her, though the creature had made herself sickeningly perfect; a product of wishful fantasy.

“That’s Sufina,” Alesia introduced the woodland Sprite. “She’s Master’s nanny.”

“Greetings,” Sufina intoned. The voice, Gwen noted, did not issue from her lips. Instead, it reverberated from the walls.

“She… she’s a tree-being?” Gwen wanted to say Monster; Demi-human, Magical Creature— but she caught herself. Anyone would be upset if a stranger carelessly called them an animal.

"I am a Dryad, dear, a Spirit-Kin."

Sufina lifted her hands from Gwen's shoulders, then effortlessly strode across the room on stiletto-like legs, floating about the place with supernatural grace. Taking a cup from a cupboard, she returned to Gwen a moment later. “Sit. Drink."

Caught in a midsummer night's dream, Gwen obediently sat on one of the wooden stools. Sufina materialised several oaken mugs of golden liquid and a basket of dark brown bread, along with a block of floral butter.

“Treat yourself,” Alesia recommended expertly. “It’s not every day you get to eat Dryad produce fresh off the teat.”

“I am sorry?” Gwen looked at Alesia with a shocked expression, glancing at Sufina's outrageous chest. “Off the what?”

Alesia knocked back her mug of golden liquid. “Oh! That hits the spot. Gwen, you gotta try it.”

Gwen took the cup in her hand, then gingerly drank. The liquid was thick, viscous; more akin to sap, with a hint of floral honey. She took a second sip, feeling the fatigue of the night before peeling from her body like old bark.

“I am glad you like it.”

Gwen looked up from her golden mead to see an old man with a trim white beard wearing an olive tweed jacket and a maroon vest. His face was weathered and worn, with a pronounced scar across the right of his temple nearly touching his right eye, bisecting powerful, prominent brows. As he came closer, Gwen noted the gent’s cheeks were sallow, hinting at a fragility that his well-poised body betrayed.

“That golden mead is all that’s keeping me alive these days.”

“Master.” Alesia curtsied, then lowered her head. "This is Gwen Song."

Gwen stood, then curtsied, then bowed, then stood awkwardly, her thin legs turning to noodles.

“So you're the anomaly.” The old man's iron voice filled the cavern.

“Gwen.” Alesia’s voice reverently rose to a crescendo. “I give you Lord Henry Kaine Foster Kilroy, Magister and Master of the Ordo Arcanum Oceania!”

Chapter twenty-seven

First Impressions

“Ithink you overdid it a bit Alesia; I sound like a Mermen God-King or something.”

“You said to make an impressive first impression!”

“Now you're just being manipulative.”

“Well, it’s too late now, she's very impressed by the looks of it. Look at her, I think her knees are buckling.”

“Sufina seems to like her. She's even taken on the girl's likeness. Any ideas? The only other person she’s ever taken to was you.”

A quick exchange via Silent Message took place between Alesia and her Master while Gwen stared with doe-eyed worship at Henry Kilroy, star-struck by the title of “Magister”.

A Magister! She had once met the then Australian prime minister, John Howard, at a barbecue in Kirribilli, and she'd only felt remotely bedazzled.

But a Magister was no prime minister. Here was a Mage capable of tapping into three Schools of Magic, and whose prowess was comparable to a weapon of mass destruction.

Barring a Meisterhood, something akin to a Nobel Prize, the title of Magister was the highest honour possible for a mortal Mage. For Mages, a Magistership was the end game; an apex exemplar of Spellcraft. If Gwen was the base stone at the foot of a pyramid, Magister Kilroy was the gold marking the capstone.

“Its a pleasure to meet you, Magister,” Gwen intoned with the reverence of an altar boy ministered by the pope. She wanted to say something profound, but her gift of gab had been stunned into silence. “I-I am honoured."

"Hahaha. The girl's too startled to speak!"

A sound of trilling laughter broke Gwen's moment of religious epiphany. Sufina once again appeared beside her, now taking a liking to her hair. With stiletto-like fingers, the Sprite deftly braided Gwen's waist-length locks, cooing in pleasure as she twirled her dark curls.

“Likewise, Miss Song,” the Magister replied, his tone even-tempered and unperturbed. The elderly Mage motioned coolly with a hand. Gwen marvelled as one of the chairs moved to meet him.

Upon closer inspection, she realised the chair was being grown from the floor space! It was a living thing!

Kilroy sat, then was suddenly sent off balance when the chair continued to move, sending him stumbling backwards.

“Master!”

Alesia rushed to his aid, afraid that her venerable teacher would topple over and break a hip. Thankfully, a low stool sprouted from the ground and caught him before he lost his balance.

“Sufina, focus.” Henry's voice grew wary with annoyance. "We are before guests."

The stool morphed into an elaborate throne.

Wow. Gwen averted her eyes. To think chairs could be used to convey churlishness.

Henry sighed.

“That is why you never spoil your Familiars,” Alesia transcribed the awkward demonstration for Gwen, dispelling the serious air previously built by Henry's entry. “You try to impress, but your Familiar trips you because she didn’t like your tone.”

“Lord Kilroy?” Gwen attempted to reinvigorate the moment of solemnity to no avail. The magic was long gone.

“Just 'sir' will do, or Magister,” Kilroy replied in a way that reminded Gwen of Alesia, making the exact motion of waving his hands offhandedly to indicate a desire for ease. “So let's get down to business, I may not look like it, but I am a busy man.”

“Busy napping,” Alesia undermined her doting Master with a mischievous smile. "Gwen, don't be scared. He's a harmless old codger, albeit a useful one."

Sufina giggled, the Dryad's laughter sending tremors through the Grot.

“…”

Henry’s expression was a map of helpless annoyance. Upon the man's wizened face, Gwen saw a doting father who’d long given up trying to educate his wayward daughters.

“See, this is why Gunther will always be my favourite,” the old man lamented. "He listens!"

“Hmmph!” Alesia pouted.

So even the unflappable Alesia De Botton could be adorable. Gwen suppressed a secret smile. The interaction between her and her master was both paternal and admirable.

The Magister refocused his attention on Gwen.

“Gwen.” Henry's tone returned to one of solemnity. “Alesia has told me about your condition. I suppose we are here to decide what's to be done.”

“Sir?” Gwen swallowed.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

"Yes, Magister."

Sans her otherworldly origins, Gwen told the Magister all that she knew—her strange nightmare, her awakening, her vertigo and fatigue. She spoke about her experiences in the Cognisance Chamber, the training she had undergone. She then recounted her encounter with Edgar, what he had tried to do to her, and the discovery of the dark element that seemed to drain her life-force.

“And the serpent?” The Magister enquired once Gwen had finished. Gwen looked toward Alesia, who nodded encouragingly.

Gwen recounted what she could. When she stated that she’d awoken from a state of near-death, restored and revitalised, the Magister’s brows raised an impressive inch. The subsequent amiability of the Mythic and the fact that she had spoken to a primordial land god without her untempered mind imploding further fascinated him.

“I am afraid there aren't many answers I can give you.” Henry intoned after Gwen's tale was done. She noted the Magister had nursed a cup of golden mead the whole while, taking sips every so often. “But, first things first. May I see this Kirin amulet your father gave you?”

Gwen began to untie the string around her neck, but the Magister stopped her. “No need to remove it. I merely wish to inspect its aura.”

Gwen allowed the Core to rest against her bosom.

"Detect Magic!"

Her skin crawled as Kilroy's diagnostic magic washed over her.

The Magister pursed his lips. “As I thought. No wonder Sufina has taken such a liking to you.”

“Master?” Alesia enquired carefully.

Henry closed his eyes, allowing the collated magic to fade. When he opened his eyes again, they were back to their steely brilliance.

“The amulet is a part of something larger, for I can sense that its animus is incomplete. The material itself is the heart-stone of something at least at an Ancient tier, below Mythic, but still very, very old. There is a capacity for the storage of spiritual Essence within the item; an entirely different form of magic altogether. For that reason, I can't tell you how the amulet works. It wasn't made with Western Spellcraft and its origins predate the Spellcraft era. But since it's a boon from your father, I would keep it close to your chest. Even though heirloom Magic Items may not mesh with modern Spellcraft, they may yet provide passive protection."

The Magister then instructed Gwen to hide her pendant.

"Of far more interest to us is the fact that I can detect the Mythic's vital energy within it, a portion of which…” Henry pointed towards Gwen’s heart. "…now resides in you.”

Alesia rejoiced. She knew it was the right idea to come and see her Master. The old man might be getting a little senile, but he was the most authoritative figure on magical phenomena in the Arcanum.

“I am not sure what that means.” Gwen replied. As a novice in Spellcraft theory, half of what she had heard was non-sensical jargon.

“When the serpent said that you were its kin,” the Magister continued, “it meant that the life-force that resides within your body is its 'kin'. I suspect the 'essence' of the egg has seeped into your amulet. As for the egg itself, I can safely assume it’s an Indigenous Spirit Stone, said to be the discarded Core of Mythic beings that inhabit our vast brown land."

“But the serpent was alive and well,” Gwen countered. "Cores come from dead Magical Creatures, don't they?"

Henry took a sip from his cup, refilled by a helpful Sufina. “Mythic beings are essentially immortal, especially with serpents, phoenixes and certain species of dragons—they perish and are reborn many times, each time leaving behind something of its past. The egg you saw was something akin to shed skin.”

Gwen nodded in semi-comprehension.

“This brings us to our next problem.” The Magister gestured, putting the previous topic aside. “The dilemma of your association with a Mythic Class Being.”

Gwen shivered under Kilroy's studied gaze.

“I’ll explain.” Alesia leant over and held Gwen’s hand, offering the girl her warmth and sympathy. “What I am about to tell you isn't going to be pleasant, but I hope you understand the position you and I are now in.”

Gwen lowered her eyes, anticipating the worst.

“First of all, Gwen, you can commune with the Mythic, which means you are capable of influencing its actions, however trivial. That means, unfortunately for you, you are a state asset. The ability to move a land god is not something any government would allow to walk the streets freely.

“Next, what would happen should the Frontier Government or the Commonwealth Tower found out? Not everyone in the Tower is forgiving and slothful like Master here. Most of them are old codgers who would like nothing more than to wage another Great Purge on the coast to expand their influence. Be it the Grey Faction or the Militant Faction, either would love to lay their hands on you. If they do, there are two potential outcomes.”

“One—quarantine. Keep you segregated from the rest of the world, then try to figure out a way to extract the energy from your body. After all, as Master said, it’s not Gwen Song who the creature finds kinship with, it's the Essence it was speaking to, mistaking you for a sibling or the like.”

Gwen’s complexion paled.

“Two—and this is the preferred option—we keep you in complete stasis and isolation. Simply put you away until such time that you are useful or no longer dangerous. The same option also includes killing you, although I doubt they will. The Tower is obsessed with potential war assets.”

Cold sweat permeated Gwen's torso, drenching her thin white blouse. How could this be? Had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire? Was she going to become a specimen in a bottle?

“Those are the circumstances we are looking at,” Alesia finished.

“Alesia, can you help me?” She was grasping at straws, but Gwen made the request regardless. Instinctively, she knew her freedom was entirely dependent upon the charity of the two in front of her. This time, without the need for coaxing, her brimming eyes begged for sympathy.

"Henry, help her." It was Sufina who advised her Master.

"Master, you have to help her," Alesia intoned as well, imploring her teacher.

Three pairs of eyes, hazel, ultramarine and glowing amber, shifted swimmingly towards the Lord Magister of Sydney Tower.

Henry Kaine Foster Kilroy, Lord Magister of the Oceanian Tower, now faced a dilemma.

The pragmatic outcome was obvious, but Henry had seen enough dilemmas play out poorly to distrust the inhuman arithmetic of logic. After all, had he not taken on Alesia against all advice, twenty years before? That impulsive decision had saved tens of thousands of lives, gifting humanity with a flaming spear to keep the Mermen at bay, simultaneously sparing his conscience.

This girl, Gwen Song, was like Alesia in many ways. Henry could guess why his favourite student had taken to the anomaly, enough at least, to risk her livelihood. With renewed interest, he studied the girl, watching her pupils dilate and contract, noting the uncommon intelligence in Gwen's eyes.

Was he fit to take on another burden?

He had made three such decisions prior, irrevocably changing three lives.

His wife, Elizabeth.

His first apprentice, Gunther.

And his second, Alesia.

Was there now going to be a fourth? Had he enough time left in him to take on another?

A subtle smile touched Henry Kilroy's lips.

The Magister was surprised to find himself so affected, wondering if the years had dulled his paranoia and instead rewarded him with erudition. Perhaps time makes it easier to be wise, Henry noted with self-serving sagacity, not to mention something about the girl stirred his curiosity. Alesia had asserted the girl possessed two elements, though she couldn't confirm her hypothesis.

“Then we are agreed—the buck stops here,” Henry pronounced after a minute of harrowing rumination, quoting the legendary American Magister, Harry S Truman. “Gwen's secret remains between you and I. BUT nothing comes free; an assurance must be exacted.”

Alesia exhaled deeply; she patted Gwen’s white-knuckled fingers to informed her that the worst was over, furthermore inferring that Gwen had better accept her master’s proposal, else it was back to perpetual stasis.

"I agree—"

“Don't accept so carelessly,” the Magister intoned, thinking of fortifying the girl's resolve. "I warrant we're not giving you much choice here, but still, your commitment must be one of free will. Tell me, child, what Path do you walk? What is it that you want for yourself?"

What did she want?

Gwen wished she knew the answer to the Magister's gentle enquiry. Rationally, she knew that she wanted safety, leisure and ease of life, but was that possible in this world? Wasn't their current crisis precisely because her communion with a Mythic-being implied she could singlehandedly destroy the safety, comfort and ease of every other human being in Sydney? In a world where men and women flew through the sky and conjured balls of fire and plasma against monsters, was it even realistic to assume that the warm embrace of mediocrity was a possible option? She had seen the NoMs living in the city, aimless and unemployed, or otherwise existing in humdrum. Was that what she aspired to? To live a life of scarcity and irrelevance?

What did she want?

Gwen searched for Alesia and saw a potential answer in her talented instructor. Besides the Scarlet Sorceress, the figure of the smiling old man and his demi-goddess servant provided another.

“You can be honest with me, child.” The Magister’s voice was a deep, reverberating baritone. “Whatever you may wish, there is no shame. I will accommodate you to the best of the Tower's capabilities.”

Gwen's chest expanded with bated breath, her lungs on the verge of bursting. In her old world, such delusions of grandeur applied only to madmen—men whose dreams and manifestos resulted in the death and misery of millions.

“I…” Gwen found her voice, but the words choked and died on her tongue. She knew the words to be wrong. “I-I want…”

Her mouth felt full of ash, her head a raging torrent of strange emotions. Was it so hard to just come out and say something so realistic for a world at war? What would be the harm? Wasn't this a world of gods and Monsters?

“What do you want? Gwen Song?” The Magister pressed on, teasing open Pandora's sacred receptacle.

“I want… power.”

The dirty word came to Gwen at last, the tension flowing from her like an open dam.

“I want the power to protect myself. I want the power to protect my friends. I want the power to live my life without fear.”

“That’s all?” Magister Kilroy's smile was serene as he twiddled his fingers, forming arcane circles.

Gwen was now beside herself, the words of her old world pouring forth from her lips like a torrent.

“I want the power to punish those who would wrong me. I want to harry the foxes, frighten the wolves and slaughter the tigers that bar my way! I want the power to terrify those who injure me so that I need fear no vengeance!”

The cynical words of Machiavelli, so laughably hyperbolic and disturbing in her old world, slipped from her tongue like a key into a well-oiled lock, unlocking parts of her she hadn’t known existed. Or perhaps they had always existed; she wondered. Is this how autocrats and psychopaths were born?

“Excellent!” The Magister roared with satisfying laughter, his mirth rolling across the room and filling its spaces.

“There is no shame in wanting power,” Henry commended his newest ward. “In the study of Spellcraft, Gwen, we call the manifesto we chose the Path. For those of us in the Centre Faction of the Middle Path, power is a means, not an end. It is a beast that must be tamed to achieve greatness!"

“Greatness?” Gwen demanded breathlessly, her earlier confessional had taken a toll on her stamina.

“Yes, Gwen, greatness.”

“The Path of Greatness?”

The old man’s eyes twinkled.

“Alesia, the Credo please.”

Alesia stood from her chair and began to speak like a school girl commanded by a headmaster, her own eyes ablaze with fervent dogma. “Greatness is the Path of Spellcraft. Greatness is not found in oneself. Greatness is how one affects those around him. Greatness is that which does not lie in strength alone, but the noble employment of power; for one is greatest whose strength carries the weight of others’ hearts."

Alesia's intonation quivered with enthusiasm. Beside her, the Magister listened to his student speak with a look of dreamy satisfaction, like one listening to the crescendo of an overture. Though he knew it to be the influence of an Enchantment he had invoked to draw out his student's raw, untainted emotions. The Credo proved as inspiring as the day he and his companions had penned it.

"Thank you, Alesia." Kilroy turned to their guest. "That is the creed of the Middle Path, Gwen. What is your opinion?”

Gwen shook with unexplainable emotions. A rapturous ardour burst within her like the swelling sea at high tide. Effortlessly, she found her next words.

“Greatness,” she declared in the next moment, finding herself channelling the wisdom of Emerson. “Greatness is the binding of superior advantage to larger generosity, that which we call noblesse oblige!"

“Exactly!” The Magister’s eyes widened with unexpected pleasure. What insight! What wisdom!

"While the abuse of power," Gwen's voice raised in pitch and volume, invoking the Bard. "Is when remorse is disjointed from greatness!"

“Gwen, that's… that's perfect!” The Magister found himself applauding the girl. Such clarity! Such brilliance! He had studied the Credo for half a century and yet, he had not uncovered words that encapsulated his ethos so well.

Opposite the Magister, Gwen was scarlet with shame over her plagiarism. She looked over at Alesia and Henry, now regarding her with open fascination, as though she was the Magister and they were the Acolyte.

Alesia's fists clenched. Beside her, the veins on Magister Kilroy's wrinkled neck pulsed with undulating intensity.

As the fever of Gwen's mind cooled, she couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right impression.

Chapter twenty-eight

Secrets and Confessions

While Gwen awaited the verdict, the Magister and his Apprentice were having a silent exchange of their own.

“Master, you had better dismiss Heighten Emotion. We're all getting too worked up. Your heart—”

“I am fine. I am fine. Where did you find this girl? One of the Great Houses?”

“At Blackwattle, near the Fish Market.”

“From a government school? Then how is she saying all of this? Did you teach her the Credo?”

“Never mentioned it.”

“Yet she understands the Tower's charter better than its most senior member. She’s just given us the answers our scholars had struggled with for aeons!"

“Well, she is an anomaly.”

“…”

Gwen sat with a sinking feeling while Magister Kilroy silently sipped his golden mead. Sufina coddled the old man while still in Gwen's likeness; a sight which made her incredibly uncomfortable.

“So, an assurance,” Henry said finally, after soothing out his breath, his eyes losing some of that hypnotic lustre. “You will submit yourself to a Greater Geas.”

Gwen's expression was uncomprehending.

Alesia moved to explain.

“It’s a more powerful, permanent form of the Quest spell.”

Her expression of incomprehension only grew.

“It’s a compulsion spell that punishes you and alerts Master if you break a condition we set,” Alesia explained in laymen's terms. “In this case, you are going to promise that you will not use your ability to incite the Mythic for hostile action towards the city and towards other humans, exempting extreme self-preservation. You must likewise inform no one about your Geas, the serpent, or our decision to shield you from the Tower.”

Gwen nodded. She didn't require complete comprehension to agree, as she understood that this was the best Alesia could offer under the circumstances. Her mentor had already put herself in danger, and now master Kilroy was also invested. There was little else to be said other than to accept the Geas with good grace.

“I understand," Gwen affirmed. “Let's do it.”

“Whoa, hold your horses, tiger, you get to negotiate as well. We’re not bandits.”

“I am fine," she replied. "I should be thankful that you are risking your skins for my sake.”

Alesia glanced at her Master, who gave her a look that seemed to suggest she should learn from Gwen's maturity.

The Scarlet Sorceress pouted sulkily.

“Well then.” Magister Kilroy cleared his throat. “If you have no specific request, then please listen to mine.”

“Anything, sir." Gwen felt genuine admiration for the sagely Magister. At the same time, she was also a little jealous of the father-daughter kinship the old Mage enacted with Alesia. Gwen herself had never experienced such paternal guidance, which, in her opinion, likely accounted for the dubious decisions she had made in her adolescence.

“Ahem, yes, well, if you insist.” Henry appeared troubled by Gwen's earnestness. “I want to take you on as my Apprentice, if you are willing. One, as compensation for accepting the Geas spell, and two, because I think you agree with our philosophy so very well. I have never met anyone who surmised our Credo so completely.”

Apprentice!

Apprentice?

To a Magister?!

Apprentice to Alesia's Master? A Mage whose domain encompassed the city of Sydney? Gwen immediately looked towards Alesia for affirmation. Her instructor also wore an expression of disbelief.

Gwen's heart sank.

“Alesia, would that be okay?” She knew she owed her more than she could repay. It was entirely possible her saviour had no desire to share her privilege. If so, she'd respect Alesia's wishes.

“What are you talking about, Gwen? That would be wonderful!” Alesia leapt from her chair and embraced her, planting a lip-print on her cheek. “We are sisters now! I am your sister-in-craft!”

“Big sis!” Gwen called out, feeling doubly awkward because she was technically older than Alesia.

“Little sis!” Alesia tasted the word rolling off her tongue and loved it.

Henry patiently waited as his students, new and old, performed a happy little dance.

“A new member of the family?” The room resounded with the sound of shivering autumn leaves. Sufina joined the duo. As a Dyrad, she was highly sensitive to joyous emotions, which served as a form of nourishment.

"Sir!" Gwen struggled free, then fell to one knee. It seemed the correct thing to do. "I accept your blessing!"

Gwen made the supplicating gesture of placing her right hand upon her left breast. Following Alesia's instruction, she then swore that she would serve Kilroy and his Credo to the best of her ability.

"I accept."

When she rose from the floor, the Grot once again filled with celebratory air, thick with the scent of jasmine in bloom.

As the women thunked mugs of golden mead, Magister Henry Kilroy, Master of the Sydney Tower, came upon a hair-raising epiphany.

Gwen.

Alesia.

Sufina.

Was his grotto to be filled with women, young, unruly and supernatural? What would happen if they ganged up or henpecked him? Would he ever know peace again?

“Sufina, the scroll.”

After carefully explaining each article and clause to their newest member, the Great Geas was ready to be expended.

Gwen pricked her thumb on a mithril dagger, then placed a bloody print into the scroll. In the next moment, a silver fire consumed the parchment. "Oh!"

A tingly sensation suffused her skin. Distinctly, she sensed through her mind's eye that there was now a cluster of golden Enchantment orbiting her Astral Body like a satellite.

“There'll be a throbbing pain if you are about to renege on the agreement,” Henry informed her. “And as agreed, I would be notified immediately.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gwen replied before hurriedly correcting herself. “Master.”

After Gwen delivered her sickly sweet “Master”, Alesia relaxed, finally landing on solid ground after two days of Flight. Now that her Master had ensured Gwen's preservation, it was time to find some answers to questions that had been gnawing at her since Gwen revealed her talents.

“Master, if you still have the time, I highly recommend taking Gwen to the Cognisance Observatory.”

“Oh? Gwen's that impressive, is she?”

Gwen felt a blush coming on, Alesia was overextending her praise. Surely she would disappoint her new Master. After all, Alesia was at least tier VI Evocation, with an insane aptitude for Fire. Gwen was a measly tier II. It was like comparing a Pomeranian with a Displacer Beast.

“Gwen, do you mind?” Alesia nudged her sister-in-craft. She told Gwen that it was a rare enterprise to have a Magister overlook one's skills. Usually, Mages paid hundreds in HDMs for a fraction of Henry’s time, begging for mystical solutions to arcane enquiries.

"I would love to!” Gwen raised her hand in affirmation. Finally, the extent of her new prospects weighed in on her. My Master is a Magister! Did that mean she was now in unassailable position?

At least, that was what Gwen had thought until Alesia informed her of the dangers of being Henry Kilroy's Apprentice.

"Don't celebrate yet, Gwen. Apprenticeships aren't public information," Alesia explained. The reasons for discretion are many, though principally it is for the Apprentice's protection until they can stand on their own. Kidnapping, bribery and harassment of a Magister's prized Apprentices are a few of many ways to influence a Magister's decisions, especially one like Henry Kilroy.”

As such, though her Master would be available to guide Gwen down her Path of Spellcraft, he would not make their relationship public and official until they could fend for themselves. Even Alesia, a known associate of the Magister for two decades, was only seen by the outside world as a protégé, an Acolyte mentee who ran errands for the Magister in exchange for knowledge and favours.

“You also have a brother-in-craft as well,” Alesia’s eyes were half-closed when she spoke, a little excitement creeping into her voice. “His name is Gunther Schultz. We're in the same boat, though everyone correctly assumes Gunther is Master's official Apprentice."

Gunther Shultz. It wasn't the first time Gwen had heard the name.

“Obfuscating our true relationship offers significant flexibility." Henry grinned. "But enough of that. Let us proceed to the Great Cognisance Chamber. I am curious as to your sister-in-craft's enthusiasm."

Kilroy guided the duo to the exit of the pocket dimension, explaining to Gwen that the Grot was the domain of his dear companion, Sufina. In the event of an intrusion, the Dryad could keep hostile Mages trapped indefinitely, wandering the endless hallways of her pocket dimension.

Beyond the oaken doors, a Levitation platform rose to meet them.

“Where’s Sufina?” Gwen noticed the giantess had suddenly disappeared.

Henry tapped his skull.

“Sufina dislikes the distorted space of the Tower,” he replied. “She’s a being of nature.”

The platform arrived with the addition of two guards in white.

“My Lord!” The men snapped to attention.

“Cadets,” Henry greeted the Tower's Guards-cum-Valets. “No.1 Observatory, please.”

Once outside the Grot, Alesia resumed her resting bitch face. Gwen's attention wandered here and there, split between the architectural spectacle, her amiable new Master, and Alesia's hostile demeanour.

The lift drifted through the Tower's interior, where behind thick mana-reinforced glass Gwen could see Mages at work. So this is a Tower. Gwen hungrily took in the wondrous sight; a construct of magic housing the best and brightest Mages.

A few strata consisted of offices, appearing no different from a commercial centre. Others were chaotic rooms used for training, shielded to prevent damage to the walls. Up higher, four consecutive floors looked like ancient libraries with row upon row of grimoires that made Gwen’s fingers itch. Higher still, glass panes revealed what looked like laboratories filled with white-robed Mages. When Gwen spotted the moving form of a half-crustacean humanoid raging against a clear mana barrier, she yelped in surprise.

"Don't mind it, Gwen," Henry informed her. "A specimen, nothing more."

Finally, they docked at the beginning of yet another corridor, the platforms meeting with the sound of metal kissing metal.

“Observatory No1, my Lord.” The guards snapped to either side of the platform, allowing them to pass. As Gwen passed one of the guards, she caught a look in his eye which sent goosebumps prickling across her skin.

The man's narrowing, unrelenting gaze communicated a feeling she knew well. It was jealousy over the fact that she, a young woman of no recognisable value or importance, was going to be spending time in a Cognisance Chamber with the Lord Magister! Demurely, she averted her gaze, her cheeks hot with mortification.

“Leave us,” the Magister intoned coldly. The platform descended after another autocratic hail of “Yessir!”

“What a racket.” Henry turned away.

“Comes with the territory.” Alesia snorted. “At least you didn't have to sign autographs.”

“I thought you enjoyed your glory days.” Henry chuckled. “You were so young, so pure, not cynical and twisted like you are now, flying around in that battledress, the dreams and hopes of young men everywhere in the military. Where did it all go wrong?”

“You made me what I am,” Alesia shot back, grinning at her Master. "No backsies."

“Gwen…” Kilroy lamented helplessly.

“Yes, Master?”

“Don’t become another Alesia, please…”

The Tower's Cognisance Chamber was far more extensive than the one Gwen had been in at school. It was more like a gymnasium, with a ceiling of six or seven metres and just as wide and long, forming a sterile white space.

Henry waved a hand. The room sunk immediately into darkness.

Space fell away. In the next moment, the trio stood upon the Astral Plane. One by one, orbs of varying colours began to manifest.

“Gwen,” Henry beckoned his youngest Apprentice to come closer. Above her, about her and below, arcane phenomena bathed her in technicolour. “How well do you know the Elemental Planes?”

“Only what the textbook indicated, Master.”

Henry nodded, moving his hands. Around her, Gwen saw the expansion of a galaxy more detailed and more extraordinary than anything she could imagine.

He pointed to the zenith. “Positive.”

He pointed to the nadir. “Negative”

He pointed to the four compass corners. “Earth, Fire, Water, Air.”

He pointed to an area alive with crawling motes of electrical energy. “Where Air and Positive meet, there is Lightning.”

He pointed to a place that was tenebrous and threatening. “The man who tried to assault you was Dust, the meeting of Negative Energy and Earth.”

The clarifying vision brought new epiphanies into Gwen's theory-addled mind. So many questions that had plagued her ramshackle understanding clarified at once.

The Magister continued. “Lightning, Steam, Mineral, Radiance.” Henry pointed toward the space between the Prime Elements and the Positive Element.

“Smoke, Magma, Ooze, Ice,” Henry continued, pointing to the linear intersections where the Primary Elements met. “Often mistaken for quasi-elemental. These are Para-Elemental Planes, free from Positive or Negative influence.”

Finally, he pointed below at the absolute darkness that is the Negative Plane and its corners. “Ash, Dust, Salt,” The Magister paused, “and Void.”

The vision faded.

“Gwen, please manifest,” he commanded.

Gwen opened her mind’s eye. A parallel vision coalesced on the floor below, reflecting her astral form—a lithe, transparent body filled with clear motes of lightning and uncertain motes of something else.

“Beautiful.” Alesia touched a hand to her mouth. “What a wonderful Astral Form, Gwen. Such clarity!”

“Alesia, if you would join us.”

Alesia followed suit; it was an ultimate act of trust, for exposing one’s Astral Body was akin to bearing one's soul, leaving nothing to hide.

Flame began to manifest from underneath Alesia, expanding as a swarm of fireflies taking flight, until slowly, the silhouette of a feminine figure took form. Unlike Gwen’s crystalline visage, the edges of Alesia's Astral Form were a heat haze. Her Astral Projection then grew in intensity until it became a roaring forest fire, first red, then yellow, then blue, then ultimately, white. When she’d finished, the Chamber was aglow with iridescence, illuminated by a woman-shaped fission reactor.

“Tone it down a little, Alesia.” Henry shielded his eyes with a localised Abjuration.

Alesia diminished her output until her Astral Body assumed the comfortable glow of a hearth fire.

“I understand you want to show off, but Gwen’s going to need new eyes," Gwen's Master murmured.

Alesia staggered back when Gwen reappeared with two swollen orbs, watery with tears.

“So, so wonderful.” Gwen attempted to give her sister-in-craft a thumbs up, pointed at an entirely different direction.

“I am so sorry Gwen.” Alesia fumbled for an injector then gave her blinded sister-in-craft a shot in the arm, restoring her seared pupils.

“So rash.” Henry shook his head. That temperament of Alesia’s was the reason he had withheld a public Apprenticeship.

With her vision restored, Gwen breathed a little easier.

“Right, let's continue,” Henry reminded them. “Gwen, use your favourite spell."

Gwen closed her eyes, focused her mind, then began her chant. "Blast Bolt!"

She channelled her favourite Evocation magic, observing the interchange of mystical energies within her body.

A stink of ozone followed the flash of Lightning.

Henry clapped. “Now try your other element,” Henry commanded. "The Void Element."

"The Void Element, sir?"

"Go on, see how well it answers your call."

"Blast Bolt!"

Gwen attempted to channel the black motes of energy within her body into the Evocation Sigil, but the Elemental Gate remained dormant. She tried again, but the tenebrous specks appeared oblivious to her will.

“I am sorry, Master." Gwen's face was scarlet. "I can't."

“That’s fine. What was it like when you used the Void Element last time?”

Clearing her mind, she recounted a few hypotheticals. The first time, she deduced, was likely after her terrible ordeal at her mother’s luncheon, where she’d had a meltdown in the middle of Hyde Park. The next time would be when Edgar attempted to consume her ego.

“And both times you had…” Alesia asked uncomfortably, “thoughts of self-harm?”

Gwen lowered her head. She knew it was a weakness, one brought by fear and despair, uncertainty and self-loathing.

“No need to feel ashamed.” Henry's assurance was calm and soothing. “I am familiar with the Void Element myself. Void, you see, is triggered by intensely negative emotions; not unusual seeing that the Negative Plane corresponds strongly to death and destruction, just as the Positive Plane enables life and restoration.”

Kilroy considered the visage of Gwen's Astral Body a moment more before appearing to make a decision.

"I am sorry," Gwen wondered if she had displeased her new Master already if he was regretting taking her on.

“Your Astral Body is unique,” he began. “Twin elements, oppositional in polarity, a true oddity. One that is, perhaps, rarer than my own. Observe."

Without effort, Henry expanded his Astral presence, filling the reflection below with a pyrotechnic of colour. From Gwen's perspective, Henry Kilroy's mana signature was an astral wonder.

First, there was Fire.

Then came Water.

A rusty ochre indicated Earth.

The fourth, barely visible, could only be Air.

“Do you see?”

Gwen nodded. She saw though she did not comprehend. The manifestation was impossible; it made no sense. For Henry to possess four Primary Elements meant that her textbooks were full of lies.

The Magister opened his palm and Gwen saw a miniature Sufina, like a Bonzai, move within the space of his palm.

“Fire, Water, Earth, Air—Evocation, Conjuration, Transmutation,” the Magister said solemnly. “Together, they make the Prime Material, invisible to us because we miss the forest for the trees. My unique Element, Gwen, is the element of Life.”

Gwen nodded, too awed to speak.

“Don't fret over your inexperience. We were all young once. When I was a child, they called me a dreamer; a useless nincompoop. When I was a young man, they called me a prodigy. When I was an adult, they called me a Magus. When I grew older, they called me Magister. Do you wish to know the lesson I learned, Gwen?"

"Master?"

"I sought out guidance. With humility and without shame. Far and wide I travelled and tested myself, visiting all the Maguses and Magisters who were willing to teach me, telling them about my talents.”

The Magister gave Gwen a look that was full of knowing, hinting at something that made her stomach lurch.

“We all have our secrets. People fear those who are different, what cannot be attained by themselves especially, but that's just human nature. They would call you strange, reject you, accuse you, or mayhap they would do the opposite, uphold you, put you on a pedestal. Your Void Element—it is rare and it is incredibly dangerous. But do not fear that which is a part of you. Control it, don’t let it control and feed on you. Don't hide it from the world and let it fester.”

“Thank you, Master.” The old man’s wise words filled Gwen with warmth, but then his next words caught her by the throat.

“But back to the topic of guidance.” Kilroy's voice rose an octave, as though he was a man who had suddenly found himself in possession of the world’s largest rough diamond. “If you don't mind, my Apprentice, can you explain to me why you have yet to Awaken?”

Chapter twenty-nine

Full Fathom Five

When Gwen was just sixteen, her father had remarried. His fiancèe was a caucasian woman only five years older than Gwen. Before their engagement, Gwen had met her a dozen times, each time keeping out of her way. A week before the wedding, her future step-mother decided to have an unexpected heart to heart.

“You’re a bad influence on your father,” she sobbed, standing so close that her forehead almost touched Gwen's chin. “You have too much of your mother in you. It is making our family miserable.”

It wasn't an unreasonable accusation. Gwen's insolent rebellion against her father had somewhat castrated Morye's masculine authority.

“I’ve waited three months for you to leave already. We want you gone. What do you want? Money? A place to stay? That’s all fine. We’ll pay for it, as long as you get out of the house."

Morye wasn't a confrontational father and so had left Gwen's inevitable exodus to take its natural course. She had planned to save up money working her summer job at Bondi, then move out to a state housing project for teens in Crowsnest, not far from Blackwattle.

Though not unsympathetic to her step-mother, something in Gwen's gut caught on a nail. She promised her future step-mother that she would move out, then promptly called Helena, informing her that her father was getting married, at this location, at this particular time. Fearing that her mother wasn't enough of a shit-storm, she also called Kwan and told him the step-mother had designs on her and Percy’s inheritance.

The wedding had gone swimmingly after that—right up shit creek.

At the ceremony, several large vans deposited buckets of excreta over the gates, the red carpet and a part of the venue's decor. It was a symbolic message of displeasure delivered by a well-connected and influential family.

“How did Helena know?”

“How did Kwan find out?”

The bride's eyes had turned toward Gwen, who’d frozen on the spot.

They knew.

What did her new Master and her sister-in-craft suspect?

Gwen felt paralysed by that familiar “oh shit’ feeling.

How to explain that a part of her soul, presumably her original partition, wasn't Awakened? Wasn't the Awakening the single most important thing taught to Mages, indoctrinated and emphasised from birth?

“I… I am not Awakened?” Her mind was a shamble of tangled thorns, her tongue caught in a barb wire snare. “I… I don’t know.”

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Gwen berated her useless brain.

“Impossible!” Alesia was no less surprised than Gwen. “She's been an Evoker the whole time. I trained her myself!”

Henry's eyes glinted. “Look here.” He pointed at Gwen’s Astral Form, where her silhouetted body was reflected below. “The interaction between her Lightning Element and her Evocation Sigil is strange, don't you think? Notice how they’re alienated from her Astral Body.”

Gwen looked down and observed, to her distress, that discharges of electricity from her Evocation Sigil were indeed circulating here and there needlessly.

How was I supposed to know that? Gwen bemoaned internally. The textbooks are useless, outdated trash. They barely explain anything other than common phenomena! Fuck this world and its lack of Wikipedia!

“A portion of her Astral Soul remains intact and untouched,” Henry intoned sagely with a flourish. “Virginal, even!”

“…” Gwen’s complexion caught fire.

Alesia threw her master an admonishing glare.

“So Gwen, my Apprentice,” Henry hurriedly continued, dismissing the faux pas. “You don’t know?”

“No, sir,” Gwen confessed. "I wasn't very studious at school."

"You know nothing?"

Gwen shook, then nodded, then shook her head.

“Ah, well.” Henry shrugged. "No worries."

“Sir?” Gwen spluttered.

“It's fine, I said,” The Magister repeated himself.

“Why, Master?” Gwen's shock and horror were now turning into indignation and confusion. It was fine, no worries? Was the mystery of her dual-Elemental origin merely a lark at the pub? Was she a sheep with an extra horn? She'd been so terrified of becoming an other-worldly specimen that she could have peed!

Henry's expression informed Gwen she was the one who was unreasonable. "Must you have an answer, child?" Henry chuckled. “I don’t know why I can tap into the Prime elements but not the Positive nor Negative, either.”

The Magister snorted.

“I don’t know why Alesia can channel the heat of a radiant star without her Astral Form imploding.

“I don’t know why the dragons don’t just wipe us from the face of this earth once and for all.

“I don’t know the brazen ambitions of my fellow Magisters.

“I don’t know if I made the right choice in offering you a Geas.”

Henry Kilroy, Master of the Sydney Tower, laughed. “Do you know the reason why your Astral Body remained dormant?”

The answer was no. Gwen had awoken in another world without any discernible reason. She’d tapped into both Void and Lightning, all the while knowing very little about Spellcraft or Magic. What happened to the old Gwen? Where did her anima go? Was her current being an amalgamation of both Gwens or merely her own?

“No,” she answered with absolute honesty.

“Then who am I to know?” Henry assumed the guise of a Magi imparting the gift of erudition. “The sea of knowledge has no boundaries— while we are but sailors skimming its unfathomable depth. Understanding— truth— lies buried a full fathom five, beside the bones of the world. Who would have the courage to delve so deep?"

Gwen exhaled, her palpitation eased.

The whole while, her Master was trying to elucidate her fears and staunch her paranoia, setting her woes at peace. His meandering speeches reminded her a little of Plato's account of his teacher, Socrates, whose instruction took place through dialogue, not indoctrination. She was beginning to understand why Alesia gave off such a feeling of cool independence and confidence in everything she did, happily owning every action and decision.

"I think I understand.”

“Good. There is no shame in not knowing. It is when you cease to be curious that you are truly ignorant.” Henry indicated to her reflection. “But for now, let's see some progress."

“Progress?” Gwen's tongue had loosened enough to venture beyond fragments of speech. "Progress with what, Master?"

“Oh, you naive little possum.” Henry’s gaze blazed with great expectation. “Why, your Awakening, dear.”

“How exciting!” Alesia squealed, swinging Gwen's hand to and fro. “Gwen, if this goes well, you're very quickly going to become a Magus! To think that you’re going to embark on the Path with two Schools of Magic, and you’re only fifteen!”

For some reason, Gwen thought of Yue and Elvia. She wondered if they had safely arrived back at the dorm yet.

“I wouldn’t count your cockatrices before they hatch,” Henry warned them. “The ideal scenario is that Gwen awakens a second school. I am no Oracle.”

He turned to Gwen. The Magister then produced a sphere from his Storage Ring; a quartz crystal the size of a human head. Months before, a similar device had initiated Gwen onto the Path of Spellcraft.

“This prototype is a much higher tier than the common crystal used by government schools. It is crafted from drake-stone, mined from Lightning Ridge."

Gwen placed her hand on the stone. "I am ready, Master."

“First, channel your unmodified mana into the crystal,” Henry instructed. “I am curious to see if your Sigil can tap into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void."

"I'll try."

The transparent mana of her Astral body surged into the Awakening Stone, bringing it to life. Its ingrained conduits refined Gwen's raw mana before returning the condensed energy into her mana pool.

A safe distance from Gwen, Henry Kilroy activated a suite of diagnostic magic, studying his student as the mana orb made its way to her chest, mingling with her existing energies.

Gwen, meanwhile, finally saw the Awakening as it occurred. When she had taken the stone initially, it was without the aid of a Cognisance Chamber; a government school did not possess the HDMs necessary to make such an effort for untested Acolytes. Even if they could, the Cognisance Chamber at the school was an ancient relic from the fifties. The Sydney Tower's Observatory No.1 was imported from Germany; a marvellous piece of European magical engineering.

As her soul melded into her Astral Form, she came to a renewed understanding of the underlying metaphysical principles of Magic. The Sigil, the Conduit, the Elemental Gate; she saw within the chamber a detailed visualisation of how they manifested arcane phenomenon, translating will and energy into matter and effect.

One by one, new conduits condensed within Gwen's physical body. Correspondingly, her Astral Body also underwent significant changes. Pox-like dots of Void matter begin to collate, forming a dark nebular rivalling the electric tempest illuminating Gwen's Astral projection.

She closed her eyes. This time, her Awakening would be complete.

“Master, isn't that a Negative Energy Gate?” Alesia intoned worriedly.

“No, not that. Nothing living can survive pure, unadulterated Negative Energy,” Henry noted solemnly. “Unless Gwen originates from a line of Egyptian Jackal Priests or is secretly allied with the Death Priests of Coatlicue, I doubt she'll walk the Path of Undeath."

The Magister regarded the dark motes of Energy manifesting."That, Alesia, is the Void Element." Kilroy's voice seemed to meander somewhere far away. “A voracious and ruthless power, fuelled by eternal hunger. There is a reason why we so seldom see Mages of this element. Can you guess why, Alesia?”

Alesia looked toward her Master alarmingly. Gwen, a Void Mage?

“The fuel for Void spells consists of life, light and existence itself. It is corrosive by nature; an Element that ultimately consumes its host.”

“So Void Mages destroy themselves? Is Gwen going to be okay?"

“I do not know," Henry repeated his earlier anaphora.

“Should we let her continue to manifest?” Alesia demanded alarmingly. she would rather Gwen be mediocre than having her sister-in-craft perish from self-harm.

“She should be fine, for now. In time, we shall see if she destroys herself or if we have to take up that mantle."

"You're talking about…"

"Yes."

"But you can guide her, right? We can guide Gwen so that she doesn't misuse her power."

“There will come a time,” Henry's eyes gazed into a middle distance Alesia could not see, “when the hunger will become too great. It begins, at first, with those struck down by one's spells, whose essence nourishes the Void, slowly offsetting the effects of using the element. Then, with increased expertise, it becomes easier, quicker and more convenient, to draw upon that absurd malice. In time, with each tier of progressively more powerful invocations, the Void Mage desires alternate sources to sustain their magic. Items at first—supplemental magic—then small sacrifices here and there, a few Drain Life rituals, maybe use your enemies’ vitality against them. Eventually, inevitably, the hunger takes over the Mage's mind; it’s all they think about, the more power they accumulate, the more biomass they need to consume, until finally…”

“Master," Alesia interjected, cutting off her Master's mumbling tirade. “That's not the Gwen I know. Can you help her?”

Kilroy met his student's imploring gaze. In the next moment, his eyes regained their clarity. "Of course. Did I not take Gwen on as an Apprentice? What manner of a Master would shirk from the duty of polishing a such a gem? Others would only do her wrong."

"But you just said—" Alesia stopped. "You will?"

Henry's tone grew in conviction as he spoke his next words. "Wood, Void, Lightning. Elements are just that, Alesia—sources of blind and unfeeling primordial energy. I speak of the Void, its nature, not Gwen herself. For a young girl to know our Credo better than even ourselves, who am I to judge how she will take to her Void-tinged powers? As I said, I am not the Oracle of Delphi. It is the spell of the heart that murders, not the spell of the hand. Do you understand?"

"I think I do, Master," Alesia gulped. The Flame Magus had seldom seen her master in such a contemplative mood.

Kilroy patted his Apprentice on the shoulder. “Be Gwen's friend, Alesia. Support her when she is afraid, give her solace when she is lonely, offer her advice when she is confused. As long as she does not use her power out of fear, recklessness, or ill-conceived passions, she will be safe."

"Master, I—"

“Look there!" Henry tightened his grip. His thoughts once again filled with yesterdays he'd thought long forgotten. "She's Awakened!”

Chapter thirty

A Long Way Down

Ablue-silver Sigil flared, guiding the Void matter into the girl's Astral Form. As motes of the tenebrous energy circulated, carving out new mana conduits, the crystalline body of her Astral reflection grew larger, taller and more refined.

Now elucidated by her Master, Alesia studied her sister-in-craft's illusory projection, above which the girl's mental and physical exertion had soaked Gwen to the bone with exhaustive perspiration.

As with a Griffin chick, her sister-in-craft was currently weak and vulnerable. She and her Master would have to keep her under wraps, hidden, disguised from the rest of the Mageocracy, letting news of her talent cascade little by little. Most importantly, the Tower must not suspect that its Master had chosen to obfuscate the girl’s Void Element, as well as her connection to the Mythic.

Considering how desperately the Frontier hungered for military might, Gwen's Path was undoubtedly going to be a difficult one. There was a balancing act which she would have to maintain; a narrow ledge between autonomy and being used and abused by the powers that be. Given Henry's wisdom and knowledge, it would take no more than a few years for Gwen to stand on her own. In time, she would travel with Alesia and her Master to a tier one city to receive her tertiary education. Furthermore, they also had Gunther to enact a little helpful nepotism. Surely the oldest of her Master's Apprentices had a duty to look out for his cute and endearing little sister.

“Conjuration.” Alesia recognised the mana signature.

"Indeed." Henry concurred.

Gwen opened her eyes, feeling her drenched blouse plastered to her skin, her thighs slick with sweat.

“I did it?” She found the Magus and Magister standing at a polite distance.

“You sure did!” Her sister-in-craft ran toward Gwen, then bodily embraced her, heedless of the girl's waterlogged condition. “Congratulations Gwen, you are now also a Conjurer!”

A Conjurer! Her heart soared. A summoner of magical creatures! Principal Bartlett was a Conjurer, and so was her Master! Conjuration was one of the most versatile Schools of Magic!

Alesia conjured up a towel, telling Gwen she could change and take a shower once they were back at the apartment. The room began to dim; the illusory projection fading until only the white expanse remained.

“Let us return to Sufina’s chamber. There is much that we must discuss,” Henry intoned, patting Gwen’s embarrassingly moist shoulders.

Via the levitation platforms, the trio then crossed the threshold of time and space, reentering the viridian grot.

“Lovely!” Sufina materialised and embraced Gwen, nudging the Apprentice woodenly, her figure a hybrid of floral and feminine beauty. “Your scent is even more delicious now. I could just gobble up your Essence.”

“That’s because you’re both a Conjurer and possess the vitality of the Mythic,” Henry explained. “Both of which are very attractive to Sufina.”

“She consumes Essences?”

“All Dryads do.” Henry grinned. “But don't mind Sufina; she doesn't need your vitality. Her grot in the Wildlands sustains her just fine."

The trio assumed the seating arrangements from before. Sufina then brought another serving of golden mead and manna cakes.

Gwen hungrily stuffed a cake into her mouth. For some reason, she was famished.

“Now that you have access to your second element, Gwen, I am going to teach you about the Void element and its particulars. You must be very, very careful in using it.”

Gwen gulped half a cup of mead, feeling its warmth dispel her hunger.

Henry spoke at length about the dangers of living beings channelling Quasi-Negative Energy, and how self-destructive the process could be without the proper warding and training.

“Is there a way to use the Void without self-harm?” Gwen enquired disappointingly. It seemed her new element has a significant drawback.

“To do so would go against the nature of life,” Henry spoke with a tone of reprimand. “I would not venture to suggest there is a way, for that would guide you down the path of Death Cults and Necromancy.”

Gwen shivered. Just those names made her skin crawl.

"Yeah, we Purge those," Alesia warned her as well to drive the point home.

“It would put you in direct opposition to the Frontier, the Mageocracy and the Tower,” Henry warned. "Not even I would venture to support an Apprentice who practices Necromantic Arts. Think about the Credo, Gwen, and if you must use the power of the Void, use it because it is necessary, because the good outweighs the bad, because the toll was worth it. It is the ultimate form of self-sacrifice.”

Gwen nodded.

“Noblesse oblige, you had told me.” Henry smiled kindly, the weathered lines of his face crisscrossing like old crags. “One must never disjoin remorse from power.”

“I will live by those words, Master.”

“Your words," the Magister reiterated. "And mayhap one day, all our words. I look forward to your future actions.”

Leaning back in his throne, the Magister sighed.

"Master, you need to rest," Alesia took Gwen by the hand. "I'll take care of her."

With that, Alesia bid her Master farewell. Gwen and Alesia watched him recede into the Grot, braced by Sufina.

Gwen finished the rest of her mead with an anxious heart. Was her Master that frail? Just how old was he?

“Let's go take that long-deserved break.” Alesia patted Gwen on the shoulder. "How about a fancy dinner, my shout?"

To their surprise, the platform arrived with two guards; the very ones who had accompanied them earlier. Their manner, however, was divorced from any amiability.

“Major, Magister Walken would like to speak to you and the young lady,” one of them informed her with an expression full of sadistic schadenfreude.

“Does he have an appointment?” Alesia asked sardonically, mocking his earlier remark from their first encounter in the atrium.

The man’s face took on a dangerous hue. “Be glad that the Magister has made time to see you. Do not waste his generosity.”

Without Alesia’s command, the platform began to move, drifting through the chambers of the building towards some unknown destination.

“Cadet, stop this platform at once,” Alesia commanded, her voice cracking like blistering fire. With mild alarm, Gwen noted the temperature around them was rising dramatically, enough to dry out her blouse.

“You can lodge your displeasure to Magister Walken, Major.” The cadet ignored Alesia's command.

So these are the "Factions" within the Tower, Gwen observed, distressed by this unexpected turn. Beside her, Alesia’s ire rose to a new temperature. Gwen sensed that any moment now, she was about to enrol the Cadets for the infirmary's burn unit.

Gwen held her breath.

“Yawl!” A crimson caracal howled.

There was a flicker of flame, then the console ignited with a scarlet fire that seared the man’s hands, yet left the instruments untouched. Alesia’s caracal materialised upon the platform, hissing at the guard, bearing its fangs.

“Major, you can’t do this!"

“What's wrong with punishing disobedient subordinates?"

“To disobey a direct request from a Magister is unacceptable!”

“Too bad you won’t be around to see it.” Alesia bared her teeth at her offender, then swatted the offending Cadet away from the console, sending him crashing to the floor.

A Transmutation-enhanced bitch-slap! Gwen stared. Ouch!

Taking control, Alesia detoured toward the Teleportation Circles. To Gwen's dismay, the second guard possessed the nerve to have a go at Alesia behind her back.

"Lightning G—"

Before Gwen could deliver the stun spell, the guard screamed and felt to his knees. A mote of scarlet flame had ignited one of his ears, reducing it to a bloody, molten mess.

“Maybe your Magister will be kind enough to gift you a Regeneration spell,” Alesia intoned nastily. “Although I certainly wouldn’t waste tier V healing on a worthless grunt.”

“You dare attack us with spells!”

“Did you hear me cast a spell, arsehole?” Alesia snapped back. “That was self-defence by my Flame Spirit, responding to your unprovoked hostility.”

“How dare you!”

“How dare you!” Alesia snapped back, still driving the lift towards her intended destination. “Have forgotten who I am?”

The guards fell silent. For the next minute, Gwen remained still as a statue as the guards groaned, one clutching his cheek and the other cupping his mangled ear.

But as the platform descended into the Teleportation Circle Chamber, Gwen could see that they were surrounded. Below, a dozen guards in bone-coloured uniforms awaited them.

“Major De Botton! Give yourself up! Your unprovoked assault of a junior officer is intolerable!” A sergeant levelled what appeared to be a wand at Gwen's sister-in-craft.

Alesia pulled Gwen behind her, shielding the girl with her scarlet visage. The Enchanted dimensions of the Tower's interior ensured that escape by force or Spellcraft was impossible, not to mention that she still had Gwen with her. Annoyingly, the guards all possessed Sonic Suppression wands, a Magi-tech item devised by the Americans, capable of disrupting spell-casting. Alesia was immune to the interference from one, two or even five or six of the damn things, but a dozen, at this proximity? Not even she was sure what would happen. Of course, she could burn them all to cinders, but that would escalate matters far beyond Factional rivalry—it would be mass murder.

Contacting her Master was out of the question. It would offer damning evidence that the eternally neutral Master of the Tower was not so indifferent after all. As Kilroy's blunt instrument, she had to keep her distance in public.

So what will it be? Alesia pondered. If she could maim at least half of them, she could force them to reactivate the Teleportation Circles.

“What’s all this racket about?”

A piercing voice boomed across the room, resonating across the dimensionally distorted chamber like a thunderclap. The confrontation between Alesia and the guards momentarily adjourned, brokering an uneasy truce as they faced the unexpected intruder.

“Impossible; the Teleportation Circles were locked,” one of the guards muttered in confusion.

"Shhh," his colleague hissed. "The Paladin has override authority from the Tower's Control Spirit."

A man descended from the platform. Gwen opted for the word “descended” because that was precisely the imposing presence she had felt. Where mortal men walked, here was a man who bestrode the air like a demi-god.

A radiant halo befell the room; a brilliance like those depicted in paintings of apostles and angels, forcing Gwen to squint. The intruder sported coffee-bean hair loosely styled in the military form. His face was handsome, chiselled, set in perfect proportions, its strong definition meeting at his broad, cleft chin. His eyes, two steely orbs, held intact in their sky-blue gaze the display before him with utter disdain. Below a bullish neck, he possessed well-toned, muscular arms that made the fabric strain against his shoulders. He was also tall, almost six-and-a-half feet, made taller by his horned boots kicking the marble pavement.

“Scarlet, how nice it is to see you." He crossed the floor of the Teleportation Chamber with the confidence of a king surveying his domain.

Beside the Scarlet Sorceress, Alesia’s burning hostility simmered until it reduced to that of a tempered campfire, crackling with unexpected warmth.

“Lord Gunther Schultz,” she spoke with a tingle of sweetness that Gwen had never before heard in her voice. “What a fortuitous time to visit.”

“Completely by coincidence,” Gunther replied. “Not too late, am I?”

Gunther walked through the gang of guards like a shepherd amongst a flock of wayward, bleating sheep. The guards backed away awkwardly, their hands gripping their Suppressors with white-knuckled intensity.

“Paladin, please recluse yourself. We are in the middle of apprehending Miss De Botton,” one of the guards, the Guard Captain, announced carefully. The role of Paladin made Gunther the highest ranked enforcer of the Tower Master's law. If the Radiant Mage wished to punish the Captain for insubordination, no one would bat an eye, not even Magister Walken.

To the Guard Captain's surprise, Gunther abruptly turned towards him, the presence of his radiant aura ablaze with supernatural charisma. “Cadet, what is the correct way to address your Paladin?”

The guard’s face blanched. He turned stiffly toward Gunther, holstering his Suppressor as he did so. Stepping precisely two paces away, he raised a hand and saluted, locking his elbow mechanically. “Permission to speak, Lord Paladin, sir!”

“Denied.” Gunther glared down at the sweltering Captain from up high, snapping him a crisp, returning salute. “Remove yourself at once!”

The guards looked at one another, hoping that perhaps, the Magister who had sent them would materialise and save their skins. When no such Magister made an entrance in the next few seconds, they deflated like spent balloons.

There was nothing they could do, for hierarchy within the Tower was absolute. Within the Tower, the Mageocracy of old, established by the Britannic Commonwealth, had set the rules for seniority. At the same time, Military Rank imposed by the Frontier Military took precedence. Magister Walken was Gunther's senior, but the man did not possess a military title. Gunther, on the other hand, held the positions of Magus, Paladin and the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. As guards of the Tower, the men were effectively Military Police. If Gunther wished to throw the book at the guards, there was little they could do but catch it with their teeth.

“Return to your post!” The Captain shouted at his men. As one, the guards holstered their weapons then gladly made for their posts within the Tower.

“Have a good day, sir.” the Captain saluted Gunther again, before turning to Alesia with a look of pure contempt. “Major.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Alesia snapped back.

The two locked eyes until Gunther placed himself between the two.

“Good day, Captain, I will speak to Magister Walken on your behalf.” Gunther shot the Guard Captain an apologetic look.

“Shit for brains.” Alesia was determined to have the last word. "Lapdog!"

Watching Alesia's triumphant expression, Gwen realised the exact reason for Master Kilroy's reserve for her sister-in-craft. Alesia was a loose cannon! She was a powerful Mage, but the woman was a battering ram. She was incapable of taking injury in any way other than Newton’s third law! That Captain was a prick for sure, but even Gwen understood that the hapless bastard was following orders. What good did it do to whip a dog, especially when its owner refused to show up? Alesia had kicked the man while he was down. No wonder she was the Tower's pariah. If she took on Yue as an Apprentice, and the two of them combined their fiery temper, wouldn't they become the true dynamic duo? Was this world strong enough to survive a partnership of that magnitude?

With the guards dispersed, the women were left alone with Gunther, who was somehow more impressive up close. It wasn’t so much that his body possessed masculine mass, but that he filled the room. Gunther’s charisma was different from Gwen’s mother, who sucked the attention onto herself, for Gunther's presence made any space instantly smaller.

“My place, dinner,” Alesia whispered under her breath.

“See you then.” Came the discreet reply. Gunther strode past the pair onto a Levitation Platform, bidding them adieu.

“Was that our…” Gwen began, but Alesia made her shush.

Once again, the two mounted the Teleportation Platform, where Alesia invoked the Glyph for her apartment and the two were away.

Chapter thirty-one

Sweethearts and Sweet Meats

Alesia battered away excess motes of silvery Conjuration.

The two of them were back in the Teleportation Chamber, their bodies safely deposited via magical translocation.

The brightly lit vista outside indicated that it was just past noon.

Noon? Gwen baulked. They had left in the morning! Had it taken only half a day for all that to transpire? She felt as though they had spent much longer in the Grot.

“It’s the next day,” Alesia noted Gwen’s confusion. She surveyed the walls for a timepiece. “Friday, to be exact.”

“How were we gone for that long?” Gwen was incredulous.

“Time functions strangely if you keep going in and out of pocket dimensions," Alesia explained. "Sometimes it’s the dimension itself, sometimes, it's your body that’s confused. The only things you can trust are timepieces attuned to planar rotations.”

Gwen surveyed Alesia's apartment. Her eyes wandered across the panes, landing at a device on the coffee table. “Alesia, may I use your Message Device?”

“Yue and Elvia?”

“Yue and Elvia,” Gwen concurred.

“Tell them I took you into the Municipal Police Bureau and we had to record statements and vouch for your innocence. It got late, so you slept over. Also, don't forget about your Geas.”

“Thanks, Alesia, I won't.”

Gwen plodded toward the soft cushions of the armchair by the window. Her Message rang a few times, then a hurried voice picked up. “Hello? Who's this? You better not be selling something.”

Classic Yue. Gwen felt better already. “It’s me, Gwen.”

“Gwennie! How are you doing? Where are you? When are you coming back? Who are you with? Is it a boy? What did you eat for dinner?”

Gwen endured Yue's barrage until she was out of breath. “I am with Instructor Alesia,” Gwen explained, then delivered the white lie she and Alesia had concocted, feeling an acidic tinge in her gut.

“What’s Alesia’s apartment like?” Yue's interest in Alesia was insatiable.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! There's a view overlooking the harbour. I can see almost all of Bradfield Park. She’s got the penthouse suite. How’s Elvia doing?”

“She right here.” Yue giggled. “She’s been fighting me for the phone!”

“You devil! Put her on!” Gwen reprimanded her companion.

“Gwen! Yue is a meanie!”

Evee's voice soothed her nerves like a choir of angels. Gwen wasn't sure why she felt so attached to Elvia. All she knew was that whenever she held the healer in her arms, she felt at peace. Be it affinity, family or friendship, the golden girl had her oxytocin in a tizzy whenever she was around.

“Hey Evee, hows the dorm? Anything changed after all that fiasco?”

“Much quieter. We're still in mourning," the healer summarised. "We’re going to have a ceremony next week to commemorate the instructors. Are you going to be back by then?”

“I sure hope so,” Gwen replied. She sighed deeply. Poor Mr Boone and the others.

For a while, the girls continued to speak at length about life’s philosophical nothings, filling up the time.

Thump!

Mid conversation, Gwen watched in wonder as a semi-transparent Mage Hand opened the fridge, retrieved a stubby from the interior, then floated itself across kitchen island to rest in Alesia's hand. She had been on the phone for so long that Alesia had taken a shower and gotten changed.

Alesia slugged the tall-neck. "Fresh. Smooth. Real. A beer so good, it's bad.” Her sister-in-craft winked at her, kicking up her robes to reveal a bit of leg.

“Pufft!” Gwen broke into a burst of snorting laughter.

“Gwen? Hello, what's happening?”

Alesia chortled, spilling a bit of beer here and there.

“I’ll talk to you later, Evee. I should be back tomorrow night.”

“Alright, Gwennie! Laters!”

Gwen replaced the Message Device.

“Help yourself.” Alesia motioned to the fridge before realising a problem with her generosity. “Belay that order, soldier. You’re not old enough.”

It was strange how often she forgot that Gwen was half her age. Sometimes, when watching the girl, Alesia felt that her sister-in-craft was much older, someone akin to a contemporary, someone her equal.

“I would like a drink, though,” Gwen enquired politely. "May I?"

See? That’s just it! Who the hell says that? Alesia's scalp tingled. She had never known herself to casually say things like, ”May I?” When she had been a teenage girl, she had been all bluster and fury. Even now, social niceties were a chore.

Alesia summoned another beer.

Gwen popped the top. "Cheers, Alesia. Thanks for everything."

The two knocked glasses, then Alesia watched with wonder as Gwen slugged the stout in one long pull.

Gwen took the liberty of Alesia's generosity to fossick for a snack from her fridge; a seamless unit built into her modern kitchen. What greeted Gwen, however, were row upon row of beer, stacked in their paper packaging. Besides the beer were another two to three stacks of what looked to be instant curry. On the door were jugs of questionable milk and slabs of chocolate.

Maybe there's fruit? Gwen pondered as her eyes continued to scan, hoping against hope. At the fridge's extremity, she discovered a dying pear, forlorn from neglect. Below, the freezer section fared no better, possessing only frozen dinners.

Gwen slowly closed the door, then looked toward her athletically inclined sister-in-craft. Fire Mages, she deduced, indeed possessed incredible metabolism.

Eventually, after a hot cuppa, Gwen retired to the guest bathroom and took a shower, borrowing from Alesia’s wardrobe. She was lucky that they wore similar sizes, though Alesia's proportions were far more generous.

Once the water was running, Gwen took advantage of the shower zen to collect her thoughts. She was now an apprentice-in-secret to a powerful Magister, possessing the potential to be a young Magus. What Gwen needed was training, experience and time. Her Master had told her that to advance her Spellcraft, she needed to venture into the green zone for battle practice. It was impossible for an Acolyte to mature inside a greenhouse, not even if she got to see him fortnightly for tuition.

Other than her training, she had another pressing problem—she was poor and she couldn't count on monetary support from either of her parents. Even if she sold all her mother’s Miu Miu dresses, shoes, the branded handbags and her shiny bric-a-brac, what about her long-term expenses?

Spellcraft training involved invariable outgoings. Raw LDMs, or HDMs if she could afford it, provided supplementary mana for extended practice sessions. Live combat in the Wildlands, Questing and Dungeoneering likewise required Magic Items to reduce the risk of permanent injury. Potions, utility items, translocation devices, protective items, portable shelters, the list went on.

She had hoped, a little immaturely, that the Magister would gift her a ring with the look of a benevolent but doting father. Unfortunately, Henry had simply smiled and said that she should learn to fend for herself, as Alesia and Gunther had done in their youth.

After a far too long shower, Gwen emerged to find Alesia asleep on the couch. She fetched a blanket and placed it gingerly over her companion. From delivering Gwen from her uncle’s party to saving her from the cave to rescuing her yet again from indefinite detention, it was hard to believe they had been acquainted only a few months.

Gwen threw on her borrowed clothes, sliding into a loosely hanging shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts Alesia had outgrown. Just as she dried out her hair, a thump came from the mezzanine, followed by a distinctly penetrating voice.

“Hello? Alesia? Gwen? Are you decent? Can I come in?”

Alesia woke with a start from the couch, rubbing her eyes and swearing groggily. “Oh shit, Gunther's here. How long was I out?”

Gwen rushed over to make modest Alesia’s robe. “About an hour,” she replied.

“I need to get changed.” Alesia forced herself up and made for the bedroom unsteadily.

“Hello?” Gunther's voice came from below.

Gwen closed the bedroom door. “Alesia’s getting changed,” she said it loud enough for both of them to hear.

“Alright, I am coming in,” Gunther replied, and a hidden panel in the corridor opened to reveal the teleportation room. He met Gwen as she came down the stairs, barefooted and flustered by Alesia's carelessness.

“Gwen.” Gunther nodded, his face lighting up radiantly.

“Hi, Gunther.” Gwen felt a little intimidated, her teenage hormones thrashing against her better judgement. Gunther walked past her, the scent of cologne tingling her nose, and made for the kitchen.

“Hungry?” he asked, moving his hand over the empty counter, materialising an assortment of meat and vegetables. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Jesus Christ, he cooks too. Gwen felt a disquieting attraction. She watched in salivating wonder as Gunther Shultz rolled up his sleeves to reveal arms taut like steel cables. The Magus roamed here and there, familiar with every compartment, even hidden cupboards where appliances and other utensils had been stowed.

“So, you probably should have heard, I am your big brother-in-craft,” Gunther intoned in that radio host voice of his. “Gunther von Shultz. I am pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, Gwen Song. Please call me Gwen.”

The two shook, Gunther's mitt-like hand swallowing Gwen's pale stalks.

“Gunther, are you a Lord?” Gwen had to ask out of curiosity. To her limited knowledge, “von” was a nobiliary particle indicating an aristocratic patrilineality.

“It’s just a title. Think nothing of it. Everyone else either left or died, so I was stuck with it.” Gunther was a little embarrassed at just how thrilled Gwen appeared.

“Where does your family come from, Gunther?”

“Oh, the family is everywhere now, but we had our estates in old Bavaria, near Breitenegg. The original demesne was converted into a freehold by my father, who tried to get away from all the politics by renouncing the title. It fell to me when I was studying under Master Kilroy.”

“I know some of those words,” Gwen confessed.

Gunther's laughter was hearty and full of good cheer. "How about yourself?"

"Refugees, I suppose." Gwen lowered her eyes. "My father's a refugee from China; my maternal family were Dutch-Indonesian colonials."

"I am sorry to hear they had to flee their homes," Gunther offered his sympathies. "As Paladin, I feel shameful that the Demi-human threat remains significant even now."

The two continued to exchange personal details, with Gwen telling Gunther about some of the happenings in her family, and how Alesia had saved her from potentially tearing that handsy young man limb from limb.

“She did good,” Gunther agreed. “Allie's like a sister to me. I’ve known her since she was your age. Those were troubled times!”

“Do tell! What was she like?” Gwen perked up, itching to hear some prequel adventures of Alesia, Scarlet Sorceress.

While he spoke, Gunther’s hands were a blur, cutting, slicing, dressing and moving across the various ingredients like a magician. The Wildland pheasant became a basted wonder in the oven, dribbling juices over heirloom vegetables. A collection of lamb ribs turned into caramelised lollypops. Rich, fragrant soup simmered in the pressure cooker, and it appeared creme brûlée was for dessert. The whole process, the precision of it, was akin to an artisanal cooking show.

“Well, here’s a story that’s highly relevant,” Gunther spoke as he sauteed, turning the memory over in his mind. “Do you know why those Guards in the Tower were so antagonistic and disrespectful to Alesia? She’s a Magus after all, and a very famous one at that.”

“I was wondering about that.”

“Indeed,” Gunther continued, his hands moving pots and stirring sauces. “So this was about, oh, five or so years ago? Alesia and her team were out on recon up the North Coast when they ran into some rogue traders who were selling all manner of stuff to the folks who live out in the Wildlands. Of course, selling stuff to Rogue Mages and Demi-humans outside the city is a problematic grey area, so Alesia had the lot of them rounded up, customers included.”

“They offered her bribes. She refused, then spilled their inventory. What she found was pretty disturbing. You ever heard of organ trading?”

“Seriously?” Gwen had, of course, heard about these things in her old world, though such atrocities were often removed from the reality of her first world nation.

“It's not too uncommon, I suppose. Anyway, rogue traders collect particular organs from the deceased—the brain, the heart, the liver. These are considered delicacies for some of the more predatory Demi-human tribes out there—Merman, Merfolk, Riven-folk, Lizardmen, and so on.”

“They eat people?” Gwen's stomach knotted, unaware of the hypocrisy of her hyperbolic reaction. She had been eating Wildland things for half a year now, and a good steak and kidney pie was the love of her life. Her favourite food, Spam, was itself constituted of mystery Wildland meat.

“Well, of course. Every living thing has to eat. It just so happens that some of the things they eat happen to be people. It’s wild out there, Gwen, the law of nature and all that. It's not as though the Demi-humans don't eat one another. A band of Hobs isn't going to say no to a village of Lizardmen."

"I see." Gwen gagged.

“Anyway, back to the organ traders. We call the Demi-humans monsters, but they're pretty smart at the end of the day; Hobs, Lizardmen, Mermen, it’s entirely possible for them to speak human or teach us how to speak their language. With communication comes trade. Mostly, they're after our artifice. You see, the Demi-humans don't have a unified currency for trading. We do. Within the Tower, the Grey Faction is the one who does most of the trading with the Demi-humans, going as far as to operate the Grey-Market. At any rate, the less civilised tribes dig up baubles, mana Cores, precious metals, bits and pieces of larger creatures, and trade it for food and crystals with these rogue traders.

“Which brings us to the topic of food." Gunther tossed some salad into a bowl and gave the spinner a whirl, draining the water. “Though they are elementals, advanced Demi-humans are physiologically similar to humans, with the same craving for flesh. And as it happens, we're the only race that produces Crystal Currency and food on an industrial scale.”

“If that's the case, can't we pressure them with trade sanctions?”

“We tried that already.” Gunther grimaced. Gwen noted that the man was handling all the boiling pots and sizzling pans with his bare hands. “The lower beings are too dumb to trade with. They have nothing we want and they don't understand treaties. The higher monsters like the Lamassu, the Beholders, or Demi-humans like the Sylvan races tend to think we’re inferior, dog-like creatures.”

“They think we are the fauna?!" Gwen baulked, thinking of how the Europeans had treated the Indigenous folk of Australia.

“It's only fair." Gunther salted the roast some more. "Think about it—we kill these creatures for their Cores. They kill us for our heart, brain and liver; all those parts of your body necessary for the generation and control of mana.”

“And that's what Alesia found?” Gwen was glad that Gunther was currently making the soup, and not carving up a roast or something.

“Indeed. So you can imagine what was going through Allie's head when she saw boxes of the stuff marked with price tags. She’s somewhat tempestuous, as you know.

“I can imagine.” Gwen gulped.

“So after frying most of the traders, she started questioning them, and that’s when she found out the traders were working for a Magister at the Tower, and that the cadavers were an exchange program under the Grey Market.”

Gwen connected the dots.

Alesia.

The Tower.

Magister Walken.

The Grey Faction, the Grey Market. “Magister Walken?”

“Well done,” Gunther appraised her understanding, his pearly teeth glinting. “What do you think she did?”

The answer to Gunther's question took no stretch of the imagination. “I would say that Alesia teleported to the Tower and started shouting that he was a traitor,” Gwen hazarded a guess.

Gunther chuckled. “Oh, if only that were all she did! Master Kilroy would still be in possession of his Ioun Stone collection!”

"What did she do?"

“Allie went straight to the Magister’s office to confront him. When he denied everything to her face, she set his office on fire; burnt down his entire library. You should have seen the uproar. A Magus, burning down the office of one of the Ten Magisters of the Tower! The guards tried to restrain her, though she insisted it was all an accident.”

Gwen's lips formed a perfect “O”.

“When the whole fiasco finally died down, Master Henry had to punish Alesia. She was stripped of her military rank, dishonourably discharged, which was why that guard kept calling her Major. Afterwards, Master Henry gave Walken a whole collection of Ioun Stones, a full set of twelve.

“Because of this, the Grey Faction loathes her. Pretty much anyone who's anyone had a mate injured during the incident. In fact, to this day, she has yet to apologise to Walken.”

“That’s… that’s amazing.” Gwen took a sip of water. Even Gunther's second-hand story was enough to get her blood boiling.

“He was and is still guilty!” A cry of anger came from the second floor.

Alesia emerged.

Gwen's jaw hit the floor.

Her sister-in-craft was wearing makeup, actual makeup— smokey eyes and ruby lips and elongated lashes. Furthermore, she wore a scarlet cocktail dress that revealed her back, teasing the contours of her white thighs.

Oh my God. Gwen gasped. She’s into him. She is totally into him.

But what had Gunther said earlier? She was sure she had heard it.

“She’s like a sister to me.”

Gwen glanced at Alesia, then at Gunther, who kept cooking with an unaffected expression, happily complimenting Alesia on her beauty with the tone of someone speaking to their neighbour about the dog.

Ugh. Gwen's heart grew sore. Alesia. You poor, poor girl.

Chapter thirty-two

Two Hounds on a Hearth

Gunther plated their dinner.

To start, they had French onion soup cut with crisped gruyere and croutons. For entrée, it was bone-in Wildland lamb lollipops in coarse mint conserve. A side serving of mixed heirloom cherry tomatoes in sweetened apple vinaigrette made the salad, and the main was a whole roasted wild pheasant, red wine reduced in own jus.

Finally, dessert was creme brûlée.

Gwen reached out with a trembling fork, resisting the ingrained desire to take a picture. Each dish was more flavoursome than the next, bringing her taste buds to climax.

She took a sip of the wine. Paired Wine! Simply orgasmic.

“Magister Walken was fuming.” Gunther swallowed before speaking, smiling serenely at Alesia every time she fluttered her lashes. “Of course, I reminded him that, had he taken you in, Master would have returned the favour by having him waste away for a week in Sufina's grot.”

“These Factional conflicts are getting out of hand.” Alesia sighed. “So much infighting. Nothing ever gets done.”

Gwen watched as Alesia sidled closer to Gunther. The man remained perfectly stoic and unmoved.

“Gunther, can you tell me about these Factions?” Gwen interrupted the two. The awkward atmosphere was becoming unbearable.

“What do you what to know?” Gunther asked.

“Everything,” Gwen confessed candidly. “I'd never even been to a Tower until yesterday.”

“Seriously?” Gunther glanced at Alesia, who nodded solemnly. His Master, the ever-critical Henry Kilroy, asked a girl to be his Apprentice within hours of meeting her for the first time? Even with Alesia vouching for the girl, it seemed excessive. “The old man must have taken a liking to you.”

“More than you know, Gunther. Gwen clarified the Ordo Arcanum Credo in one line. Did Master tell you?”

“Noblesse oblige, the binding of our superior advantage to larger generosity, the abuse of greatness is when remorse is disjointed from power.” Gunther inspected Gwen with interest.

“Yep,” Alesia gestured rather rudely with her fork. “I am afraid you’re no longer the favourite.”

“I am happy for Gwen if that's the case,” Gunther replied, his face betraying nothing. “But surely, Allie, you were always his favourite.”

“Not that it matters.” Alesia grinned cheekily. “Gwen's the pet favourite now.”

Gunther grinned, reminding Gwen of the men on Van Heusen posters.

“Anyway, to answer your earlier question,” he continued. “There are three main factions in the Mageocracy. Our Master upholds the Middle-Path faction, prioritising the preservation of human cities, including the NoMs, choosing to maintaining diplomatic relations with Demi-human Races. Of the Ten Magisters of Oceania, four count themselves among our number.”

“The second faction is the Purist Faction, also known as the Militant Faction. Their three Magisters hold ranks within the Frontier Militia. They believe that we should engage in a continuous purge of Magical Creatures and Demi-humans, expanding human influence into the Wildlands.”

“Is that even possible?” Gwen blurted incredulously. After all, she had seen first hand what her Mythic “kin” was capable of doing. What would be the cost of subjugating such a creature?

“With the Tower's support, it's possible." Gwen wanted to ask what that meant, but the man had moved on. “The last faction are the ones who believe that the answer lies in joining those outside the city; that we shouldn't be living in isolated enclaves. There are three Magisters in this faction too. Magister Walken is one of them.”

“Nasty little man,” Alesia snidely remarked. “With nasty little connections to the Wildland Demi-humans.”

“Now, now, Allie.” Gunther motioned disarmingly. “You know as well as I do that the Grey Market materials provided by those Magisters make up for half of all the Magic items in the Tower.”

Gwen perked up. “Alesia, what if someone from the Tower crafted Edgar's Teleportation Ring? Does the Tower have records of who made what?”

Gunther shook his head. “Records are confidentially maintained by Enchanters. Anyone worth their salt in espionage would not leave a trail as large as that. A Contingency Ring with a Long Range Teleport costs anywhere between five thousand to fifty thousand HDMs. Moreover, there are no Enchanters capable of using the Asscher inscription technique outside of Europe.”

“Oh.” Gwen sipped her water sadly. So much for that avenue of enquiry.

At the dinner's conclusion, Gunther brought out the creme brûlée.

Alesia continued to entice her senior, though the Paladin of Sydney remained unflappable.

“Anyway.” Gunther reached into his pocket, retrieved a small ring box, then pushed it toward the middle of the table.

“…” Alesia's eyes grew wide. “This is…”

The Scarlet Sorceress swallowed, her throat bobbing back and forth.

“for Gwen.” Gunther coughed.

“...” Alesia clicked her tongue.

“What is it?” Though curiosity was gnawing at her like a cat, Gwen refrained from touching the box.

“Master Henry believes it may be best if Alesia or I could come to your aid in the event of life-threatening danger. Knowing your connection to that Mythic, it's best we have insurance."

“Oh?”

Gunther opened the box to reveal an intricate piece of magical jewellery—a silver band with an obsidian stone.

"A Teleportation Beacon," Gunther explained. "If you’re in trouble, activate it with a command Sigil and it’ll send out an SOS to the three of us. We can then use Teleport or Teleportation Circle to come to you.”

“Gwen, put it on,” Alesia commanded.

The two of them watched as Gwen obediently equipped the ring, the small silver band shifting to conform to the circumference of her left ring finger.

“Say,” Gwen felt that she should confirm her suspicion, “does this ring provide a live update on my whereabouts?”

“That it does,” Gunther intoned casually. “Alesia and I both have one.”

They raised their hands, dispelling their ring's inbuilt glamour. Sure enough, Gunther Alesia also possessed subtle silver bands. Alesia sported an impressive ruby, while Gunther owned a bright, square-cut diamond.

What a rock! Gwen marvelled. That bloody thing's rocking four to five carats.

“Don’t take it off. Ever.” Gunther's tone inferred his advice was less a suggestion and more of a command.

“Of course,” Gwen affirmed her sibling-in-craft’s wishes.

“So what’s going to happen from here on out?” Gwen asked. After the accumulated events of the Serpent, the Void element and the Second Awakening, was it even possible for her to go back to school? What about her mandatory military service?

“You go back to school.” Gunther surprised her by guessing her train of thought. “Master believes that your body needs time to grow into the possession of two Schools of Magic, not to mention your Void Element. After you graduate from high school, we'll arrange something for your military service. You'll be under my direct supervision. There, you should be relatively safe.”

“Relatively?” Gwen noted Gunther's conditional participle.

“Safe from the Factions, the Houses, Clans and Sects, that sort of thing,” Gunther leant back, feeling nostalgic. “But not Monsters, the Wildlands or folks wanting to duel you. No pain, no gain, right?”

"I guess so."

“Don't fret, Gwennie. I went through the same thing, although I was a bit younger than you,” Alesia affirmed Gunther’s nostalgia. “I did some of my best work back then. It was such a carefree period of my life. Questing all day, Purge Missions every week. No Factions to bother me.”

“That’s a mild way to put it,” Gunther laughed, his good humour returning. “Try to imagine it, Gwen. A thirteen-year-old Alesia, only this tall, throwing fireballs this way and that on the Brisbane Line, fighting eight-foot-tall crabs.”

“Thirteen!” Gwen almost choked on her creme brûlée. Alesia had been a child soldier?

“Well, I was only twenty myself,” Gunther humble-bragged, his stoicism loosened by the decanter of Shiraz they had imbibed. “We’re both offensive casters, you see, and we were right in the thick of the Coral Sea War. Man, those damn Mermen. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of the bastards; a never-ending tide of stinking fish.”

“Yeah, we ate a lot of seafood,” Alesia chortled. “The war put me off shellfish for years.”

“You'll never look at seafood the same way after a crawfish Merman tries to take off your arm with a pincer that could cut through steel plates!”

“I remember this time that Gunther got dragged under by an octopus Merman. To escape, he cooked it from the inside out. It took three days to get the ink off him, ha!”

Gwen listened to the two of them swap old war stories and knew that no matter how amicable her siblings-in-craft were to her, they had an intimacy that she could never attain. Though she was the new favourite kitten, there was a place in their Master's cabal for his faithful hounds that she could never occupy.

Thank god then that she was going back to school. There was almost a year left with Yue and Elvia, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it. Yue said she was going to join the military track— with Alesia’s help and the Magister’s influence, perhaps they could stay together. Elvia would on her own, though they could still see one another during breaks.

“Gwen?” Alesia called for her.

“Sorry, I was daydreaming,” Gwen apologised, her face flushed even though she had only a sip of the wine.

“It’s alright; you must be exhausted.” Gunther pulled back his chair and found himself an apron embossed with yellow duckies. “I’ll clean up, go to bed. You can go back to the dorm tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Gunther. You too, Alesia.” Gwen smiled at them warmly before removing herself and tucking the chair back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I am leaving soon,” Gunther replied. “Though I’ll see you around.”

“Good night, you two.” Gwen performed a cute little curtsy.

“Goodnight, little sister.” Gunther flashed her a smile lined with pearly teeth.

Oof! Her heart throbbed. Don’t even think about it.

The siblings-in-craft waited until Gwen was in her room on the second floor before they retired to the bay windows overlooking the harbour. It was now late; well past the witching hour. Upon the surface of the bay, slivers of refracted light from the Barrier Shield flittered about within the churning of dark waters like silvery fish. From the bay's interior, Sydney extended into the water’s edge, fingers of multi-coloured light stabbing toward a tenebrous horizon.

“What do you think of Gwen?” Alesia enquired of her brother-in-craft. Sometimes, he was the man of her dreams. Other times, he was the big brother she trusted and loved. Then there were times when he felt like a stranger, a stoic Paladin of the Tower, a title made flesh.

“She's strangely mature for her age,” Gunther articulated in that deep, resonating voice of his.

Alesia found herself leaning against him, her head resting upon his shoulders as they sat on the couch overlooking the bay. One of his hands moved to touch her arm, his fingertips softly caressing the skin until he reached her hair, twirling strands around his digits before letting the ringlets fall. For all his charismatic bluster, Gunther was a prude. Public displays of affection in front of a stranger like Gwen was beyond him.

“I fear Master has dropped a difficult task on my plate. What do we know of her? Is she truly as innocent as she appears to be? She's no child, I am afraid.”

“Well, she's rather tall, well developed, got legs for days,” Alesia replied playfully. She could not deny that Gwen's strange mix of heritage gave her a sense of exotic allure—the girl's eyes, her shapely limbs; no wonder Gwen's uncle had thought to pawn her off to the highest bidder.

Gunther gave Alesia a friendly pat on the thigh. “Don’t be an idiot. I am not interested.” His mirthful tone then took a severe turn. “I take it you agree with Master then? Both of you are confident that she’s going to be an asset?”

“She’s going to be a great Sister and a good Apprentice,” Alesia's voice rose an octave. “You can't think of her in terms of assets and deficits, Gunther, she’s still a person before anything else. I've taught her for three months now. She's a good girl.”

“I see.” Gunther made amends by kissing her on the forehead. “Just looking out for the old man. You know his health is not good. It’s a lot of effort raising a new Apprentice.”

“That’s why we’re filling in for him, right?”

Gunther grunted, exhaling deeply. "I suppose you're right."

The duo remained entwined, comfortable in their familiarity. Alesia could feel Gunther’s body underneath her, at ease and relaxed. They were cuddling, or at least she thought they were. His arms were wrapped around her waspish waist, and her skin was warm against his cheeks. Maybe one day, Gunther would reciprocate her feelings, but his work, his duty, his loyalty to Master, all of it prevented him from pursuing a personal life.

Upstairs, Gwen was asleep, exhausted by close to forty hours of continuous wakefulness, kept alert only via Sufina’s ambrosia. If she could have seen Alesia and Gunther on that couch though, she would have immediately recognised their body language.

It was a case of two dogs playing on a hearth rug. The younger worrying, whining, snarling, snapping, pinching at the old dog’s ear; the other lying somnolent, blinking at the fire. Gunther and Alesia were litter-mates, entwined into a familial embrace, one’s head under the chin of another, falling asleep, numbed by the intimacy of one another's presence.

Chapter thirty-three

Some Things Never Change

Gwen left the apartment in borrowed clothes—a modest pink minidress worn over a lacy white camisole. The events of the night before weighed heavily on her mind, especially her left ring finger, where a silvery band acted as guardian and ankle monitor.

Bathed under a cloudless sky, Gwen allowed herself to soak in the gentle radiance of the autumn sun. With some time to spare, she decided to take a few hours to walk and think. Her first stop was Town Hall, from which Gwen made for Hyde Park. Once at the park, she returned to the old cypress tree under which she had collapsed some half a year earlier. There, she found gashes scabbed with old sap where her uncontrolled Void blasts had removed chunks of ancient wood.

As she touched the indifferent wound, she grew vaguely aware that it was her birthday. Sweet sixteen. She amused herself with the meaningless number. What was the passage of time for someone who had no certainty of what their future held? She felt like the plastic bag from American Beauty, behaving as the wind behaves.

More than ever, she wanted to see Yue and Elvia, though the girls were more than likely with their families. Yue had a regular thing with her father every fortnight, and Elvia either visited her family or worked with her uncle and her mother at a charity clinic at the edge of the city. Refuting her impulsive desire, Gwen decided against needlessly disturbing her friends' family-orientated schedules.

Family. The word made Gwen shiver. The body she possessed had a brother, a father, a mother, uncles and aunties. Yet it was invariably true that she was alone in this world of monsters and men; a solo traveller whose road bisected but did not run parallel to others. That was the reality of it; the dirty nitty-gritty of it.

A second life spent alone?

She didn't want that.

Walking down George Street, she allowed the smells of cafes and restaurants to distract her. Instead, she focused on her growing hunger. She had eaten a very light breakfast and it was now almost noon. She was midway between George Street, bisecting Pitt Street, and there were eateries every few shopfronts.

Curiously, the pedestrian section of George St closest to Town Hall appeared to have foregone modernisation. There were no glass fronts, gentrified shopfronts or high-street fashion labels lining the boulevard.

The apparent difference, Gwen rationalised, was that her former home of Sydney had been a top-tier destination while current Sydney was a Frontier region recovered from Mermen occupation some three decades ago. Most of its buildings were reconstructed facades of the old town moulded from sandstone, fabricated by Earthen Transmuters. To Gwen, though both cities were aesthetically similar, there was an air of dilapidation about this place that spoke harshly of the quality of life here. Even on the main strip, she could see litter and trash befalling the alleyways.

To her surprise, she stumbled upon an old haunt not too far from the cinema. In Gwen's old world, the coffee shop had been a quaint, chic little place popular with hipsters and trendsetters. The owner was an old man who always wore a loud vest and whose hair changed styles depending on his mood on the day. He had a daughter who had been going to take over the business but found love elsewhere, leaving the old man to grind out the rest of his days with his Arabica. Gwen rather fancied the old man, who had flirted with her during lunch breaks.

But the cafe Gwen had arrived at was deeply suspect. The only sign that there was something open was a rusty iron board swinging on its last legs that said, “coffee here”.

Feeling nostalgic, Gwen convinced herself to commit to her curious enquiry. Moreover, she was keen to see if the old man was here and if his daughter was still part-timing as a waitress in this parallel world.

"Hello?" She walked through the frontage. Thankfully, the interior was clean and tidy.

"Oh hi! Welcome." Gwen was greeted by a girl her age with short, shoulder length hair and a waitress’s mini-skirt hiked well above her knee. Her name tag read “Fiona”.

Gwen smoothed her skirt and took a seat near the corner.

"What would you like?" another voice called out. Gwen felt her heart flutter. The old man! The old man was here!

“Hi, Gregor," Gwen stated in the manner to which she was accustomed, trying her luck. "Flat white, extra shot, skim, no sugar."

The old man paused at the discord between the unfamiliar figure of the girl in pink against the overtly familiar manner in which she ordered, then went about his business.

The coffee arrived. Gwen took a sip. The milk was watery and the beans acidic, nothing at all like the flat white she had anticipated. Oh well, some things are not meant to be, she thought sadly, feeling foolish.

At least its not six bu— Her body suddenly stiffened.

She moved her hand subtly to her back pocket. There was no pocket. She was wearing Alesia's skirt.

Her currency card! Her wallet! She had left it in Alesia's apartment! She had her student Glyph on her keychain for public transport, school meals and academic activities, but all private expenses had to come out of an account her mother had set up for her years ago.

Could she leave them her contact? Would Gregor accept that?

As Gwen mulled over the terrible coffee and her embarrassing blunder, two young men sauntered into the shop, their immediate bluster disturbing her train of thought.

"Two cappuccinos. Make it quick!" they shouted rudely at no one in particular.

Gwen furrowed her brows. The old shop had never had customers like this. When the waitress, Fiona, brought the men two menus, Gwen could see that they were far more interest in her outfit.

“Told ya the service was good here,” one of them vocalised to the other. "What's your name, sweetie?"

The waitress smiled and said nothing.

"Hey, what's your name?"

One of them read her tag. "Fiona, is it?"

"Are you still going to school, Fiona?"

"Come sit with us, Fiona."

Gwen felt the ire rise in her chest.

She watched the waitress escape with the men's order. When Fiona returned with the cappuccino, Gwen baulked at the owner's carelessness. Gregor! What are you doing? You should bring it out yourself!

Gwen wondered if she should lend the father/daughter a hand, though there were too many unknowns. Gregor may be her friend in the old world, but here he was a stranger. With conscious hypocrisy, she put aside her proposed motto of noblesse oblige.

"Sir! Hands off!"

Her dilemma escalated in the form of a yelp; a cry of distress and alarm. Gwen looked up from her cup to see that one of the men had taken the girl by the waist and was forcing her to sit with them. A cup spilt in the struggle and now the duo was adamant Fiona was to blame.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Gregor shouted angrily from behind the coffee machine, producing what looked to be a wooden bat.

"As I thought." One of the young men grinned from ear to ear, "Jordie, they're both NoMs."

Immediately, his companion’s demeanour changed from peevishness to outright arrogance.

"What are we doing?" The Mage pushed Fiona into a chair, sending her skittering across the floor.

He raised a finger; a swirl of water encircled her father. "You dare assault a Mage, NoM?"

Old Man Gregor glared impotently at his two assailants. His wooden truncheon was a joke compared to what they could potentially do to him.

"What… what do you want? You can't use magic ag-against us! That's against the law!" Fiona screamed at the two from the floor. "I'll summon the police!"

The threat seemed to work.

"Watch your back, cunt!" Jordie spat rudely at the girl still prone and terrified on the floor.

They turned, only to pause in wonder at the sight of a young woman readying to leave.

FUCK! Alarm bells rang in her head. I should have left.

"Hey there, young lady," Jordie's eyes lit up. "You work here too?"

Gwen immediately moved for the door. Obligation or no, she wasn’t getting involved with these walking shit shows. As soon as she was out, she would call the cops. If a bystander called the police, there was no reason for these pricks to harass the shop owner.

But she had underestimated the motivation driving the pair of titillated hooligans. Already incited by their failed attempt at picking up the waitress, the two bucks gawked at the girl in pink.

“Jordie” scrambled for the exit, barring her way.

Gwen was appalled at the man's audacity. Seriously? they were accosting her in broad daylight?

"Move it!" she stated with a tone hinting at mass murder.

When the young man tried to speak, she escaped from the coffee shop.

So much for nostalgia, Gwen chided herself as she made haste for the boulevard, where pedestrian traffic would ensure she could call the police unmolested. She had made it no more than a dozen steps before she felt a forceful tug on her ankle. Something sodden and wet pulled at her left foot, drenching her sandal. She turned icily to see Jordie with an idiotic simper on his face, mightily pleased with a watery Mage Hand.

"I haven't even gotten your name yet," he quipped with a stupefying grin.

"Mage Hand!"

Gwen tapped into her Conjuration Sigil, willing a mote of lightning to exist where the man stood grinning. The air beneath Jordie ionised and an arc of electricity gripped his ankle.

"Arrrghk!" Jordie cried, leaping into the air and convulsing uncontrollably before landing awkwardly on the dirty pavement, compelling a freestyle rendition of “the worm”.

His friend backed off with both hands in the air, his face suddenly the colour of ash. He wasn't about to piss off a Quasi-Elementalist.

"I don't know him that well, he's just a guy from work," he explained. "We just happen to be on break together."

From the man's expression, Gwen could see that scarcity was the goon’s dearest wish for the moment.

"Don't move," she commanded, performing her best impression of Gunther.

She willed a mote of Lightning mana to circulate through her body, her irises glowed, forming two concentric rings of cobalt electricity.

"IDs," she stated coldly. Jordie’s terrified companion produced both of their identity cards after patting down the groaning Jordie.

Gwen took a glance. Two Manufactorum workers; low-level Mages whose talents only allowed them the ability to operate reinforced machinery.

"Don't come here again or bother the store owner," she continued, tossing back their IDs casually, "or rough men will do to you what I can't be bothered to do right now."

"Of course, ma'am. Absolutely!" The two supplicated, one on his feet and the other on his stomache.

Heart in mouth, she turned to leave, though the squelching of one of her sandals ruined her cinematic exit.

"Excuse me, Lady Mage…" a voice cried out. It was the waitress, Fiona.

OH SHIT, I haven't paid! Gwen's face caught fire. Should she dine and dash? There was a first time for everything, be it electrocuting arseholes or fleeing a four dollar flat white.

"Thank you." The waitress bowed deeply.

"It was nothing. Adieu!" Gwen retreated as she spoke, stomping from the alleyway with one foot trailing water.

Once out on the main boulevard, she took the opportunity to stand in the sun with one foot out of her sandal, drawing eyes to her bare feet as she waited for the damn thing to dry.

Once her mobility returned, she visited another old haunt.

The pedestrian section of Pitt Street had always been a Mecca for luxury goods. Gigantic, gaudy display windows intimidated those with weak wallets. Though Gwen had a weakness for handbags, her preference had always been for artisanal and boutique products.

A block later, she arrived at an old Victorian arcade called The Strand, happy to see another place replicated in this parallel world.

Unsurprisingly, the place housed shops she hadn’t ever seen before. Where boutiques stores for bonnets, shoes, ties and vests once reigned, in this reality, crystals, magical trinketry and enchanted jewellery inundated the enclosed venue.

When Gwen proceeded through the arched gateways, a guard in a bright blue uniform gave her a warm and inviting smile. "Welcome, madam. Please enjoy your visit to the Emporium."

Gwen greeted the man back. Glancing above the guard, she saw a Detect Magic device.

"It's for keeping out the NoMs, ma'am," the man spoke in a tone that was cordial and polite. "Please enjoy your stay. If you have any questions, I would be glad to answer them."

"Thank you." Gwen passed the guard uneasily.

Do they segregate shoppers here? Gwen was again reminded of her Apartheid analogy for the world in which she found herself. It was the first time she had seen a place bar NoMs from entry. Her old home in Forestville had never had any shops that kept out the NoMs. Likewise, her school had NoM staff members, for whom the principal encouraged equal treatment.

Inside, Gwen's eyes scanned across a vista of display windows. She could sense the density of the mana in this place, so remarkable that it was almost palpable. She approached the first shop, where a broad window displayed a dozen pairs of intricate earrings set and cut with enchanted mana stones. There was a short description for each item, what its effects were, and the price tag.

Earring of Air Fortification

A boost to your ability to shape and control elemental air. Offers significant increase in efficiency to mana conversion equating to Tier II–III.

Tier V Blue-Wind Fox, Orange Zone, Indonesia.

Crafted by Master R.J. Tillerson, 4En. 4A.

~ 45 HDM Crystals.

Had Gwen been drinking, the storekeeper would have had to wipe spittle from the pane. A hundred and twenty large? As far as she could recall, her summer job at the beach selling ice cream made regular currency in Australian dollars which could only be used to purchase non-magical goods. Last she heard from Helena, her father made no more than 90 HDMs a month, which roughly converted to just under 50,000 dollars. The conversion rate wasn't a reliable metric, however, as NoMs usually had no access to magical goods and services. Additionally, Gwen had a suspicion that the Mage-controlled government took advantage of the exchange to keep the NoM population in their place.

She looked at the price again and felt her breath quickening. Gunther had said that Edgar’s Contingency Teleportation Ring could be anywhere between five thousand to ten thousand HDMs. Anyone with that kind of money likely didn't take losing an arm and a leg lying down.

"Miss?"

Gwen looked up to see the shop assistant smiling at her serenely—a beautiful blonde woman with lovely cerulean eyes, stunning in a full set of enchanted earrings and a necklace.

"Would you like to try out any of the items? We have a courtesy Cognisance resonator where you can test the efficacy of the items."

"No, thank you, I am just looking," Gwen replied. The woman gave her a curt nod before returning behind the counter.

Four shops down, Gwen found what she had desired since finding out they existed—Storage Rings. This luggage shop had dozens of them, all in different shapes and sizes.

Storage Ring (minuscule)

Allows for the storage and retrieval of small items. Max Capacity 0.3 L.

Tier III High-Density Spatial Crystal, Orange Zone, Australia.

Crafted by Master G.D. Cooper, 5En. 3T. 4E.

~ 80 HDM Crystals.

She surveyed the selection with a growing expression of grimness.

Storage Ring (Medium)

Allows for the storage and retrieval of large items. Max Capacity 3000 L.

Tier VIII High-Density Spatial Crystal, Black Zone, South Africa.

Crafted by Master P.J. Kali Jr, 8En. 5T. 6A.

~ 1990 HDM Crystals

"..."

Gwen doubted if she had ever possessed that much liquid asset even in her old life. 1990 HDM Crystals? Her father could buy one if he forwent two years salary.

It went without saying that having access to crystals would help her Spellcraft immensely. In her old life, her Consultancy had made good money, as clients paid generously for creative solutions. But how did her knowledge of finance, creative accounting, marketing and international business help here? As far as she knew, only NoMs did those jobs in this world. They kept the little cogs of the economy greased, but Mages pulled the levers.

The bigger problem was that she was a high school student. She couldn't be a Mage and also work like a NoM on the side, could she? Where was she going to get crystals to invest? The only person in her family with wealth to spare was Uncle Kwan, who had inherited his wealth from Grandfather, an Enchanter.

Grandfather Huang!

She paused. Perhaps she could work out something with her grandfather; a sponsorship she could pay back in a year or two. She remembered seeing him years ago, and the old man had been perfectly amiable. According to Helena, the old Mage was getting long in the tooth and his mind wasn't what it used to be, but he was still a Tier V Enchanter! Not only that, he lived separately from Uncle and her mother's new family in the Huangs’ country estate. Between her charm and his senility, there was no reason he would ignore a granddaughter in dire need!

Gwen took another forlorn look at the Ring of Storage, ignoring the rapidly blinking eyes of the store clerk trying to catch her gaze. To think that a twenty-kilometre serpent could wipe out the city in one fell swoop and there she was, having the woes about money.

She sighed — Money never changes.

Chapter thirty-four

Coming Home

Gwen made it back to the dorm just in time for dinner. She ventured into the cafeteria, eyes scanning for Yue and Elvia, but couldn't find them anywhere. Had they not returned yet? She thought to herself, disappointed at her friends' absence. Tellingly, the rest of the student cohort were likewise absent, likely as a result of the averted crisis.

"Gwen," a soft voice called out meekly. Gwen turned to see a girl rolling towards her in a wheelchair, her bronzed legs angled to one side, too tall for the limited extension of the footrest.

Debora! Gwen felt her heart drop. She couldn’t believe that she had forgotten all about her friend. Though a lot had happened, to clean neglect the girl she had injured was unforgivable.

"Deb…" Gwen fell in beside Debora, dropping to the girl's eye level. "I am really sorry."

"It's okay Gwen, I know. I know what happened," Debora assured her softly. "Instructor Alesia told me about it at the hospital. I am glad you managed to knock me out, otherwise…"

Gwen took Debora's hand in her own.

"Can we talk for a moment? Up in your room?"

“Yes, I would love that,” Gwen agreed, feeling awkward that they were airing their traumatic laundry out in a half-empty cafeteria, filled with the sound of clinking plates.

"Thanks," Debora concurred. Reflexively, Gwen moved to push her to the levitation platform.

"It's alright; I got it," Debora invoked softly, and the wheels began to move. "Gotta keep up the practice. I still gotta catch up to you and Yue."

Once inside, Gwen could see that both Yue and Elvia were out. The cleanliness of the room was evidence of that.

"There's a letter for you," Debora pointed out.

Gwen picked up the envelope. Inside was a scented card with embossed words in italics. Gwennie! Look up!

Gwen looked up.

BANG!

A burst of light erupted from the ceiling. Gwen shielded her eyes, simultaneously opening a conduit to her Evocation Sigil, flashing her eyes electric blue in the darkness. With Debora there, she couldn't just open up a Shield, but she was confident that any ambushing enemies would cop a blast of lightning to the face.

Instead, banners fluttered from the ceiling.

"Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday!"

"Sweet sixteen!"

Cries of jubilance surrounded Gwen, startling her so much that were it not for the intimate sound of those familiar voices, she would have let loose a cantrip. Instead, she became covered in confetti and strings.

Happy birthday? Her mind spun. That's right; it was her birthday!

Gwen gawked as her friends materialised one by one. Some cheeky bugger had used an Illusion spell to make the room look unoccupied!

"You guys!" she couldn't help but gush. Elvia and Yue both embraced her. Jun and Henley were there as well, busy unleashing more poppers, sending out streams of colour and sound.

"Sweet sixteen!" Elvia, on her tippy toes, gingerly pecked Gwen's cheek.

Gwen cheeked her friend in return and took in a whiff of the Positive Mana radiating from her golden girl. Oh, how she had missed this!

Yue joined the duo and hugs were given all around, even to the boys.

The girls had prepared a cake for Gwen—a cute tri-colour sponge cake. A table full of food catered by the kitchen below reminded her she had yet to have dinner.

In the midst of jubilation, she found herself beside Debora, again apologising for what she had done.

"I am fine," Debora divulged intimately. “I took some damage, but with continued physiotherapy and restoration magic, I'll be good as new in a month or so."

She tried to prove her point by lifting her legs, achieving only an inch of movement.

"Deb…" Gwen placed a careful hand on Debora's thighs, feeling the trembling flesh under her fingers. "If there's anything I can do for you…"

"Don't worry." Debora looked up at her, then motioned with her eyes towards Jun. "Although if you don't mind, I want to ask you a favour for the future."

"Anything, Deb, just let me know."

"Promise me that you'll give me a chance to join your team. I want to be a part of what you guys are doing."

It took Gwen all her effort not to raise both brows. They had had their adversarial relationship going for almost half a year now, and the one-eighty took her by surprise.

"Sure. I'll speak to the others," Gwen promised, recovering after a moment's deliberation. Debora had demonstrated ample ability. Should Elvia and Yue oppose Debora's inclusion, it would not be because of her talents."I don't think we'll be having any more Field Trips," Gwen added uncertainly.

"There's a compulsory Quest in an Orange Zone next year, right before we start our graduation and military service," Debora pleaded, her moist eyes looking more vulnerable than Gwen had ever seen them. "Two of my team members will be gone by then, as will your Abjurer and Diviner. I need this, Gwen. I need to do well for my future's sake. I hope you can understand."

"I understand, Deb," Gwen answered. She empathised with her old friend. Debora was hard working and talented, but her Spellcraft wasn't rare in talent or affinity. She may be outstanding in a regular school like Blackwattle, but skills like hers were a dime a dozen in the state's selective schools and privileged private academies.

"Take care of yourself," Gwen comforted her old friend, patting her on the hand. "I'll speak to the others, I promise."

"What're you guys talking about?" Yue imposed herself upon them, a plate of sliced cake in each hand.

"I'll tell you later," Gwen replied. "Thanks so much for organising all this."

"No sweat." Yue grinned. "It was Deb's idea, actually. You never told us your birthday, you know."

"Oh?" Gwen was surprised to hear that. She was technically thirty-plus-sixteen now; an old spinster. When I was your age, Gwen mused, we had to walk six miles through wind, sheaves and snow via a Purple Zone to get to school. "Thanks again, Deb."

"So," Yue continued, "sixteen. You’ve got one year to register for the mandatory service. What did you think about my offer? Wanna join with me?"

"Sounds like a plan," Gwen replied, though she knew Yue had a far brighter future ahead. If Yue became Alesia's Apprentice, and Alesia was her sister-in-craft, did that mean Yue had to call her Aunty Gwen?

"Well, enjoy the cake! I'll get some more. You want a drink, Deb?” Yue regarded her old arch-nemesis. “Man, that thing could use a cup holder huh? Why not transmute one?"

Deb laughed. "I am only using it for a week or so. Then I start on crutches."

Ding! Gwen's Message Device pinged. "Excuse me."

She moved out into the corridor. "Hello?"

"Hi, Gwen." A masculine voice came over the phone. "Happy Birthday."

"Dad?!" Gwen muttered in earnest surprise.

"Don't act so shocked; as if I wouldn't know your birthday. You’re sweet sixteen, after all. It feels like just yesterday you were still a little girl. You grew up so fast. I hardly had time to notice."

Was the man reading off a script? Gwen marvelled at her father's sudden verbosity. Usually, they exchanged a dozen sentences a day. In all honesty, she didn't know how to respond. This man was her father, but not in a sense that felt real or concrete. She did, however, have memories of another sweet sixteen where she’d worked the graveyard shift at McDonald's, being paid award wages and feeling pleased about making almost twenty dollars an hour.

"Thanks, Dad," she said finally. "It makes me happy that you called."

"Principal Bartlett Messaged me and told me of some things that happened. I am sorry I wasn't there for all that. I hope you don't think too badly of me."

If Gwen had still been the insecure daughter Morye had known, she would probably be in tears, or at least drunk with sentimentality. As an adult, she knew Morye's call was likely a by-product of guilt. "Thanks, Dad. I understand. Let's have lunch sometimes. It'd be good to talk."

"Cool." Father and daughter both played their parts. "That's good to hear."

"Dad, can you do me a favour?" Gwen had one more task for her wayward father.

Her father's response was one of hesitation. Well, that didn't last long, she scoffed.

"Do you know Grandfather's number? For his country estate?"

"Ah, of course. I think I do. I'll message it to you. Are you thinking of visiting?"

"Yeah, there are some questions I need to ask him."

"When are you going?" Her father's voice was full of relief. Maybe he thought she was asking him for money.

"Tomorrow, if possible."

"Want me to call him? He hasn't seen you since you were ten or so. I am pretty sure he’d have no idea who you are if you just called out of the blue."

"He's not that senile, is he?"

"Oh, it's pretty bad. He was rather paranoid when I saw him last year when he made me and your mother visit with Percy. I think he’d forgotten we were separated."

"I wasn't invited?"

Morye's silence spoke louder than words.

But blood was thicker than water, right? Surely her grandfather wasn’t blind. Surely he wouldn't mind answering some of her questions or giving her a hand with access to some cheaper magical items. Weren’t grandfathers supposed to dote on their granddaughters? It came with the territory.

"Can you call him?"

"Alright. Happy birthday, Gwen."

Morye hurriedly ended the Message, leaving Gwen alone in the empty corridor. Behind the oaken door of her dorm room, she could hear the girls laughing.

Sighing, she leaned against the wall, thinking of the serpent, of Henry Kilroy, of the Tower, of the friends she now possessed, overwhelmed by the surreality of it all.

When she woke up in the mid-morning, there was a Message spell awaiting on her device. Her father had contacted her maternal grandfather, and he was expecting her.

"Gwen, can you take Percy with you? Your grandfather hasn't seen him in forever, but I am busy today. Just drop by the house and pick him up. He'll be waiting."

Gwen chose not to speculate why her father was busy on a Sunday.

In her old world, Surya Indra Huang was a retired professor, a former engineer who had retired rich. Her maternal family traced their genealogy from a long line of native tea traders working for the Dutch trading consortium. Gwen vaguely recalled an awful colonial air about the family history that Gwen found both fascinating and abhorrent, involving multiple feuding wives, loveless marriages and countless lawsuits. Caught on the losing side of the feud, Surya had migrated to Sydney, laid down his roots and remarried.

In this world, Gwen was less sure. All she knew was that her grandfather was an eccentric Enchanter who had made the family’s coffers bountiful enough to set up his son and daughter so as to never know want. Unfortunately, echoing his past, the man possessed a tumultuous relationship with his children after her grandmother had passed away. As a result, she had seen him two, maybe three times in the last sixteen years.

Nonetheless, Gwen washed up and made her face. When she opened her wardrobe, she noticed a bag that hadn't been there before. It was one of those folded, high-quality boutique bags used by branded stores. There was a card attached, and she knew without reading that it had to be from her mother.

With mixed feelings, she withdrew yet another Miu Miu dress—a one-piece in navy. The top was modest, covering her shoulders with a short sleeve. Its length, though, was notably in the style that her mother adored—the hem a few inches above the knee.

How many dresses for a Storage Ring? Gwen wondered.

She opened the card that came with the package:

'Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen. Hope you like the dress. Wear it next time we luncheon.

—XXOO. H.H.

Not a single word of apology or remorse. Gwen snorted as she dropped the card back in the bag. As usual, the dress fit her impeccably. If nothing else, her mother knew her figure like the back of her hand. She then found a pair of beetle-black Mary Janes that went well with the dress, and was good to go.

She kissed the girls goodbye as they lazed in bed, grunting and flailing when she pecked their cheeks, then made for the station. It was Sunday, and she had to catch an interchange service from Redfern to Forestville.

At the station, she was surprised to find Percy was already waiting at the ticket gates.

"How?!" Gwen marvelled, hugging her brother.

"Had to leave. Do you remember how thin our walls are? Dad's banging his—"

"STOP!" Gwen buried the boy's face in her bosom. She released him once she was satisfied that she had sufficiently reconnected with her brother. "How’ve you been, bud?"

"Worse now that I gotta visit a weird old guy instead of shooting hoops with my friends."

Such a typical teenage response, Gwen exhaled. All's well with the world. "Alright, blame me. It was my fault. I made Dad call Gramps," Gwen confessed. "How about another hug to make it up to you?"

The gesture drew smiles from several other passengers whose gaze had lingered on the leggy teenager whose presence had been beauteous blue spot dispelling the dreary monotony of public transit.

Percy blushed. "Not when you're like that," he replied. In his opinion, his sister's heels and the hem of her dress drew unnecessary attention.

"Too bad!" Gwen embraced her brother again, pressing him against her chest because he could be such a cute little boy when he acted his age. Give it a year or two, and their interactions would grow awkward.

"Stop!" he cried out.

She ruffled his carefully combed hair. "It's good to see you too, buddy."

"You too." Percy rubbed his forehead vigorously with his sleeve. "Can we go? Please?"

The siblings took the Country Link Interstate out west beyond the main confines of the city. Two hours away from Sydney and up north was the tablelands that fed the city, magically maintained by Mages and tilled by NoM farmers.

The Huang’s estate sat on a piece of land bordered by vineyards in a region called Windsor Downs, named after the British imperial household of Windsor. It covered three acres and had been converted from an old winery into a sort of semi-modern country manor. Though initially intended as a holiday home, it had long since been used exclusively by Surya Huang as his private abode, preferring solitude over the company of his children.

When the train had finally arrived at Maitland, the two grandchildren awaited a pick up from the manor.

After a quarter of an hour, the boxy shape of a vintage Mercedes rumbled up, a trail of wasteful mana swirling in the dust. The doors closest to Gwen and Percy opened, revealing a woman in a rather daring outfit—a pair of cropped jeans and a spaghetti top exposing two mountainous white globes.

Percy's eyes popped. Gwen slapped him on the head and made him sit in the back.

"Hi, I am Melissa, but you can call me Mel," she introduced herself once they were all in the car. "Master Surya is expecting you."

"Hi Mel," Gwen replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Melissa cranked the gears of the old Merc. The car began to move.

"Mel, what do you do at Gramps’?" Gwen asked, her hazel eyes searching for answers. The way Melissa dressed, she could be anything.

"I am his Apprentice," Mel replied.

What? Gwen's gaze moved up the girl's voluptuous figure. She certainly did not look like an Apprentice.

"There are two of us at the estate," Melissa dropped another bomb.

Oh? Gwen turned her attention back towards the road. Melissa had a gentle face, but what was with that outfit? She was starting to feel a little self-conscious in her choice of attire. Maybe she should have gone super casual. Perhaps her grandfather hated the couture, prim and proper look? She glanced in the rearview mirror at Percy, who wore cargo shorts and a baggy, plain polo shirt. "How's Gramps? I haven't seen him in years."

"He's doing well. A little grabby, but he's a good Master."

Gwen furrowed her brows.

"It's all harmless fun," Melissa intoned casually. "We're used to it. I mean, it’s a great opportunity he's given us to learn some advanced techniques. He is an artist, after all."

That's sexual harassment! Gwen wanted to blurt out. What do you mean you're chill with it?!

Ahead, the estate came into view, revealing a large bungalow in the style of an outback manor. Gwen took a deep breath and prayed that her grandfather wasn't a pervy old codger.

Chapter thirty-five

An Old Man’s Favours

Like many estates in the outback, The Manor was a single-storey sprawl fabricated from a composite network of sandstone, glass, timber and transmuted cement. From afar, the estate had an artistic air; when viewed from the front, it melded into the landscape. At the back, a good forty metres of decking extended beautifully toward a vista of rolling tablelands.

Melissa kicked the handbrake then threw the stick into neutral. With the power cut, the engine's mana cores coughed and died, clinking as it cooled. Gwen opened the passenger side door and extracted her legs awkwardly, for the sunken seats preventing her from modestly removing herself.

Melissa whistled. "Nice stalks. You Helena's lass?"

"I am. Do you know my mother?"

"We've met."

"Amiably?"

Melissa laughed, slapping Gwen on the back so hard she had to prop herself against the car. "Funny gal, huh?" She grinned. "Come on in. The master's waiting."

The interior of the estate consisted of dark floors and stark walls, favouring glass wherever possible to let in the natural light. Here and there, artistic sculptures made of various materials sprouted seemingly at random.

Upon closer inspection, Gwen realised the abstract figures were hyper-sensuous statues of women in various states of undress. The moulding of their breasts, waists and buttocks were expertly shaped so they possessed an embarrassing realism. More disturbingly, perhaps, the figures were contorted artistically in a manner that made them come alive.

Gwen covered Percy's eyes. The boy had been inspecting a gigantic sculpture at the centre of the atrium, mesmerised by its indecency.

"These are Grandfather's work?"

"Oh, yes. Some of his best." Melissa slapped a plump, obsidian buttock. "He gets incredible commissions on these you, know. Anyway, if he's not here to greet us, then he's probably in the workshop."

They went through the house's atrium and onto the veranda. Beyond the deck, an infinity water garden extended towards the horizon, mirroring the blue sky. The installation extended a world of blue beyond the decking, at the ends of which was a workshop billowing steam and smoke.

What the hell is that? Gwen mentally checked her textbooks. The building at the end looked more like a forge. An Enchanter's workplace should be akin to a watchmaker’s shop, possessed of small boxed shelves of precious materials hidden in a large elevated table, upon which were dozens of complex instruments used to make Glyph scripts.

Instead, from the ponderous door came a hiss of cooling steam that sent Gwen's skirt flying, forcing her to arrest the wayward hem against her buttocks. Within, she saw anvils, moulds, carving blades, dozens of filers, tongs and what seemed to be a small mountain of ingots.

Agape with wonder, Gwen stared as a bronze statue in the shape of a voluptuous woman appeared, stark naked, walking towards them. She looked just like Melissa, only freed from the bondage of clothing, sporting wide hips that reminded Gwen of Greco statues.

HOLY SHIT. Gwen's mind gave her a good kicking. A FUCKING GOLEM.

As complex constructs, Golems were the highest level of craft possible for an Enchanter. Clay Golems, Iron Golems and War Golems were invaluable tools of industry and war. As a Frontier city, Sydney invariably suffered a shortage.

Is this a Bronze Golem? Gwen gushed, her heart pounding at the immense possibilities represented by this female construct. How incredible must her family be if Grandfather could create Golems?

But why were there nipples on a golem? Gwen's brows furrowed. Her gaze fell lower.

Ho boy! She covered Percy's eyes. Golem or no, this was no sight for a child. Those swinging fun bags were far too realistic to be PG-13, bronze or otherwise, not to mention what was carved out downstairs.

Percy was already rigid with shock, his mind entering a brave new world.

"Hey, Tess," Melissa greeted the Golem.

"Yo, welcome back," it replied.

It took a moment for the metallic bronze to fade from the skin of the Golem, returning to that of flesh. The woman known as Tess turned to Gwen, whose hands covered Percy's eyes and smirked.

"Never seen a Bronze Flesh Transmute before?" she asked mirthfully. "You can't work here without Resist Hot and Cold, ideally Greater Resistance."

Gwen was very glad she had not blurted out something about Bronze Golems.

Tess walked over to a counter and placed a ring upon her finger. From within, she summoned a robe.

The steam was now clearing. From within came the figure of a gnarly old man staring at yet another artistic creation. He was almost dwarfish, with dark skin and sinewy arms. His frame was skinny, practically skin and bones, with a bulbous head that swung back and forth on his stick-thin neck.

Even now the old man was moulding a glowing statue, the metal deforming where his hands touched, shaping this way and that as though it was clay putty and not heated iron.

"Do you like them?" a voice that sounded like rattling nails called out, echoing through the chambers of the stifling smithy. "That big one took me almost a month.”

He pointed to a voluptuous creation.

Gwen wasn't sure whether she should bow or perform some other supplication she was unaware of, so she curtsied. Her action appeared to please the old man, who took to walking around her slowly, ponderously inspecting every inch of her like a critic at an art gallery.

"They are lovely," Gwen replied, studying the old man as he studied her in turn. She held onto her overstimulated brother with an iron grip, praying Percy wouldn't pop an erection in front of their grandfather.

"Started making them a year ago," Surya announced. "Your mother refused to let your brother there take over the family business. So I've taken to work on things I’ve always wanted to do."

Gwen turned to look at Percy, who shrugged.

"So you're Helena's girl. Yeah, I remember you," Surya began. "You were this big.” The Enchanter placed a hand at his chest. Gwen had been tall even as a kid.

“And now you're a giant!" Surya laughed.

Gwen offered a polite chuckle, hoping it would build some rapport with the strange old man.

"Lovely calves, excellent contour." Surya's inspection continued. "Your father was a short bastard, if I recall, and your mother has a fat ass. You lucked out."

"Thanks, Grandfather," Gwen was beginning to see where her mother got her obsessive body image compulsions.

"Good, good," the old man continued. "You model?"

"No, Grandfather. I am an Acolyte."

"Really? You any good?"

"I am a Lightning Evoker, Grandfather."

"No shit? really?" He raised a bushy white brow; the effect was like watching a caterpillar come to life on his face. "From whose arse did we pull you out of? You sure you're Helena's daughter? Morye loved to poke around, you know. Helena was an ingrate, but your father screwed that poor, stupid girl over more times than I can count."

Surya's frankness made Gwen nervous. All she could do was smile and nod, hoping that she wouldn't say or do something to upset her patriarch.

"Still, a Quasi-Elementalist." Surya rubbed his chin, once again examining her as if was some newly uncovered artefact of immense interest. "Your mother tried to sell you off to the highest bidder yet?"

"Not successfully," Gwen replied truthfully. The man knew his daughter well.

"Heh." Surya chuckled. Gwen chuckled with him. "What did they tell you about me?"

"..." Gwen wondered if she should lie but decided against it.

"They told you I was a crazy old man, right? A nutcase?"

"Actually, they never talked about you at all, Grandfather." Gwen inserted a sweet-lipped “grandfather”, hoping that the idea of an endearing granddaughter would bring forth some form of filial sentimentality.

But then her grandfather flew into a wrathful trance. "Typical, typical. Ungrateful kids. I gave them everything. Hmmph. Call me crazy."

Gwen realised she had better lower his blood pressure before he blew a gasket. "Percy is here with me." She brought her brother forward in the manner of one performing show-and-tell. "Your dearest grandson!"

"Hmmph!" Surya grunted with annoyance, still muttering angrily.

Percy punched Gwen in the rib.

"Whoops! You've set the master off!" Gwen turned to see Tess approach with a face full of concern. "His mind tends to run off the rails at times. It could be hours before he recovers."

Gwen watched as the woman sidled up to her grandfather, pressing her body into him like mother coddling a child. "Surya. Surya, you want to have a drink? Something to eat?"

Gwen watched her grandfather's face slowly relax, the anger draining from him like molten bronze from a crucible. Eventually, the wrinkles on his face relaxed. He looked up, once again taking note of the world around him. "Wha? Oh, Tess, yeah, sure, water for me."

Phew, Gwen relaxed. Had her grandfather lost his shit, that would have been the end of her visit. "Tess, are you grandfather's apprentice too?"

"Yep, I am his Transmutation Apprentice. Mel is his Enchanter."

"Oh," Gwen looked for Melissa. The woman had gone to get some water for the old Magus.

"Thanks for looking after him," Gwen replied earnestly. Having never taken care of anyone in her life, she couldn't imagine the hassle of looking after someone suffering from senility.

"Just give him a coddle, dear." Teresa winked at Gwen. "He's sweeter than you know."

Gwen turned to Percy expectantly. Her brother's face informed her that there was no way he was hugging his grandfather and that she should be the one to do it.

"You guys want anything?" Tess asked.

"Just water, thanks."

"I'll have a lemonade." Percy raised his hand.

"Sure, I'll be back,” Tess gave Surya a peck on the forehead. "You just keep interrogating him."

"Mel, Tess and I are entirely professional, just so you know," Surya explained, having regained his lucidity. He walked Gwen out of the workshop towards the infinity feature under the back veranda. "Not at all like your father."

"Of course, Grandfather." Gwen followed demurely, watching him decide between a wicker couch and a small alfresco dining set. He chose the dining set as it offered both Gwen and Percy a seat.

"So, why are you here? Your father was pretty vague on the subject," Surya began.

"Grandfather, I wanted to ask you some questions," Gwen said sweetly. "That and I wanted to see you."

Her declaration brought a smile to Surya's cracked lips. "Is that all?"

"But in truth, there is a more dire reason for my visit. I am in need of funds, Grandfather," Gwen confessed. "As well as magical items."

Percy almost spat out the glass of lemonade he was nursing. He gazed up at his sister, demanding to know if she truly came all this way to beg. If so, why the hell was he there?

"Helena not giving you an allowance?" Surya remarked sceptically. “Your father broke or something?"

"I would rather not," Gwen replied, lowering her voice modestly. "I would prefer to work for an income if possible, but I don't know how to go about it.”

"Understandable." Surya thought a little about Gwen and her circumstances and acknowledged that in her place, he would also prefer not to be in her mother's debt.

"How about your uncle? He's got the lion's share of what I left them. Isn't he living in a new house in Kirribilli?"

Gwen explained what had happened the last time she’d gone by the manor.

Surya grumbled cynically. "Social climbers." He sighed. "All those years of Spellcraft and hard work, and my kids are just social climbers without a Path."

"Well, Richard is doing very well. He got a commendation to the Four Houses at Prince's."

"I heard." Surya regarded his granddaughter, whose features looked nothing like his own. She was tall, lithe and had her mother's hazel eyes and dark hair. "So you're the reason Richard got that placement. How well do you know this Alesia de Botton?"

"We're acquaintances," Gwen lied. "She was my instructor."

Surya mulled over the news in his mind while Gwen waited in silence.

Tess and Melissa returned once more with snacks. Surya took the chance to properly introduce his Apprentices. The girls were twins that Surya had found by chance while selling his artworks. One was a Transmuter, the other an Enchanter. They had taken a liking to the old master’s craft, and Surya was happy to have them as his live-in students. In this world, the Convent of the Craft was far more binding than that of the blood of the womb, so the girls became Surya's constant companions.

As for Percy, Surya gave the boy a few kind words, then nothing more. Since Helena was adamant that Percy would attend Prince's, which meant serving the Four Houses, which involved travelling away from Sydney, it would not be possible for him to take over the family business. At any rate, Percy had to Awaken first, and the chance that an Evoker and an Abjurer would produce an Enchanter was slim indeed.

"So, what Path are you taking?" Surya continued to grill Gwen about her aspirations.

"I can't conclusively say, but here's what I do know…"

Gwen told him of her desire to finish high school, enter the military and join one of the government agencies. It was typical of any high-achiever Magus wannabe, but it was realistic and Gwen had the potential.

"And for that, you need money and items," Surya finished.

"Yes Grandfather," Gwen affirmed.

"What makes you think I am so generous? After all, we have only met twice—once when you were a child, and again now."

Gwen felt her professional acumen tingle. The tone of her grandfather’s voice suggested willingness, although the man desired a more valid excuse. The degree of his “help”, therefore, would be dependent entirely upon her sincerity. "I have this."

She opened her hand, and there was the shimmering chromatic scale that the Serpent had given her. It glinted under the sun with a prismatic display of rainbow hues.

Surya exploded from where he had sat, clasping her hand. "Where did you get this?!" be uttered in disbelief, his spittle landing all over her palm.

Gwen said nothing. She could feel a tingle in her mind; the Geas was in full effect.

Surya swallowed. "Is it yours?"

Gwen nodded.

“Who gave it to you?”

Gwen remained mum.

Surya considered his options. It was evident to him that his granddaughter was keeping a secret. The object was, by his expert eye, something that belonged to a being of at least Ancient tier. Such a scale was an exceedingly rare material that appeared only once or twice a decade, generally after an extensive Subjugation or Purge. Considering the recent news cycle, Surya could manage an educated guess as to its origin. If so, why did Gwen have it and why could she not speak of it?

Either way, he was tempted.

An Enchanter, receiving rare ingredients with questionable origins was the mithril-standard for normal. The profession would hardly exist if every prudish crafter were bothered by dubiously sourced materials, be it the Grey Market under the Tower or the Obsidian Exchange. The more an Enchanter worked on expensive and exotic materials, the greater their craft could grow. At the proficiency of Surya's skills, nothing short of black zone materials could extend his Spellcraft.

Hoping the temptation was enough, Gwen closed her hand, cutting off Surya's longing gaze. "Would you like to work on it?" she proposed, blinking her long lashes.

No shit I would like to work on it, Surya grumbled sulkily. He regarded his granddaughter in a new light. She wasn't there to beg. No, she was there to negotiate!

A curious smile touched the old Enchanter's lips. He found himself smiling despite the suspicion that he was being played. How old was the girl now? Fourteen? No, with a figure like that, at least sixteen.

"What would you like to have it crafted as?" Surya spoke carefully.

"Something defensive. I am lacking when it comes to shielding and fortification."

"Hmm." Surya pondered the options. The scale possessed the properties of all major elements, which meant that he could potentially create something unique and highly specialised. "How's are your Shielding spells?"

"Terribly weak against solid projectiles."

"Well," Surya began. "I can make you an Elemental-Shift item with an inbuilt Shield attunement. You'd be able to make any Prime Elemental shield as if you had Affinity. Though that Affinity is going to be minimal."

Gwen pondered the pros and cons of the proposed effects. The most important aspect of this was the advent of casting Water Shield, which was near-perpetual and self-regenerating, or the Earthen Shield, which could ward against hard-point attacks.

"Give it some thought," Surya proposed. "Personally, I suggest a passive item. Active items prevent you from casting other spells, so its uses are limited."

"Oh," Gwen replied disappointedly. For a moment, she’d thought she had found a rule-breaking cheat.

"A passive item can be just as potent. It could increase your resistance, in this case, against all Primary and Para Elements, which make up for eighty percent of all Mages. Ah, if only you were a Conjurer, it would be pretty interesting if you could use Elemental Shift to bring to life all sorts of Elemental beings. There used to be a Mage I know that could combine all four elements—a Plant Mage, wouldn't that be great?"

At the mention of “Conjurer”, Gwen gazed at her grandfather awkwardly. A titanic battle of truth and deceit raged within her. Should she tell him the truth? She didn't want to waste creating an item that didn't take advantage of all her Schools of Magic.

An expression of indecision appeared on her face.

"What, you're a Conjurer?" Surya sputtered, his mind conjuring an unlikely hypothesis. As an Enchanter, he was hypersensitive to motes of mana from different schools. When Gwen froze on the spot, he knew his suspicion was right. "You're shitting me!"

Chapter thirty-six

Apples from the Tree

“Well?” Surya’s face flushed with anticipation. “Out with it!”

“I am… untrained,” Gwen said slowly.

"But you can see a Conjuration Sigil in your Cog-meditation?”

Gwen nodded.

Surya's skeletal frame began to shake like a seismic fault on the verge of eruption. The man was understandably excited that his line would produce a Magus, perhaps a Magister.

"Grandfather" Gwen touched Surya's wrists carefully. He’d better not be having a heart attack, she thought.

When Surya's eyes refocused, they had an intensity reserved only for his most celebrated erotic sculptures. "Does your mother know?"

Gwen shook her head.

"Do you want her to know?"

Gwen shook her head.

"Morye?"

Her neck was beginning to strain.

"Alright. Why's he here?" Surya pursed his thick lips, turning his eyes toward Percy. Gwen too, followed Surya's eyes to see her brother, realising that he had just heard their entire conversation.

Oh dear, now the cat's out of the bag. Gwen slapped herself mentally. Percy had an uncanny ability to be invisible when he wanted to. He must have developed it to evade their mother.

"Percy." Surya's voice took on a hard, obsidian edge. "Look at me, boy."

Percy looked up at Gwen and Surya. As a Selective High School student, his intelligence was without doubt. From his expression, they could see that he understood his sister had dropped a fireball in the water, and now he was drenched by the blowback.

Beside Percy, Gwen wondered just how profoundly her brother understood her circumstances.

"Yes?" the boy piped up, his voice croaking.

"You tell no one about this," Surya intoned with absolute seriousness. "I hear one word out of your mother or father about Gwen's Conjuration talent, and you're disowned. You have my word as your patriarch, do you understand?"

Percy nodded.

Gwen winced, hoping that his brother didn't take their grandfather's threat too unkindly. If Percy indeed were a smart kid, he would know the reason all their resources were pledged to him was due to Gwen's incompetence. Now that she was a dual-element, dual-school caster, the question of inheritance would arguably be up in the air.

"Good. Leave us now. Mel! Tess!"

Surya called out for the twins.

"Yes, Master?" Tess was now properly attired. "More drinks?"

"No. Take Percy and show him around the compound. I need to talk to Gwen in private."

"Sure thing. Percy, come on, let Aunt Tess show you something cool."

Percy shot Gwen and Surya a worried look.

"Go," Surya commanded.

Percy dejectedly followed.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Surya muttered in a disgruntled tone. "He's more like Kwan than any of us, I think. You can hear the little cogs turning in his head."

"It's alright, Grandfather." Gwen's gaze lingered on her brother until he was out of sight. "Percy's a good kid at heart."

"Maybe drop a Lesser Geas on the boy?" Surya persisted, "He's young. Might survive it yet."

"That won't be necessary, Grandfather."

"Call me Opa," Surya suddenly declared. "It’s how we say grandfather in the old country. My grandfather loved hearing it."

"Opa!" Gwen uttered adoringly, allowing the “O” to linger on her tongue before pushing out the “Pa” with honeyed sweetness.

Surya shook with pleasure, the smile on his face split from ear to ear. "What a wonderful word," he confessed with tenderness. "Your mother kept you away from me and your father was too afraid to visit. To think that I have three grandchildren and you are the first to call me Opa."

Surya scratched his head, unsure how to proceed further. Certainly, he felt no love for the grandson used to coax him into giving up more money, comparatively, Gwen's unexpected presence was refreshing and delightful.

Gwen responded by leaning over and wrapping her long arms around him, burying his face in her blue cotton dress. His skeletal frame felt like a bone rack wearing his skin; the vitality within somehow surviving time's fierce embrace. He patted her back awkwardly. Unlike the rest of his body, his fingers were hard and steady—the hands of an artist and craftsman.

"Come with me." He began to walk briskly. "Let me show you the workshop."

They proceeded across the elevated deck, passing Percy and the sisters. Percy looked as though he was sleepwalking, disinterestedly nodding at each sculpture introduced by Tess and Melissa, having lost all fascination for flailing breasts and perky bottoms.

The Enchantment Workshop sat on the east wing. Once in close proximity, Gwen noted with interest the protection Glyphs surrounding the premises. Their glow was visible even in daylight.

"Precious materials attract unsavoury attention," Surya noted her concern. "I am frankly shocked that you carried the chromatic scale on your person."

She felt a sudden chill. Like an idiot, she had wandered around town with an invaluable object.

Surya invoked an unlocking Glyph. The doors opened, revealing a textbook workshop covered with tools and hundreds of drawers built into row upon row of shelving. Gwen further noted that even the interior had many wards in place.

"My sanctum," Surya said proudly, spreading his hands. He gestured for her to take a seat on one of the stools. "Who's your Instructor?"

"From school?"

"No," Surya scoffed. "Your real instructor."

"I can't tell you, Opa," Gwen replied apologetically.

"Secrets, huh? I love secrets." Surya scratched his rough white beard thoughtfully. "I’d say you're under magical compulsion. Not a surprise, considering your talent and the origin of that scale. Care to play a game?"

"Opa?"

"Just nod or shake."

Gwen nodded.

"Is he a man?"

Gwen nodded.

"Is he a Magus?"

Gwen shook.

"Military?"

Gwen shook.

"That's all I need to know," Surya smiled and took a deep breath. "My granddaughter, apprentice to one of the Ten."

Gwen's eyes widened.

"What? A senior Mage can't teach you shit, and your master's not a Magus. There are only three women Magisters in Oceania's Cabal. Do you think Magisters grow on trees? How many non-military Magisters do you think are in Sydney? You can count them on one hand, you know."

Surya tapped the oaken table beside him. "Blaire, Walken, Lin, Ferris, Gonne, Kilroy, Uther…"

Gwen tried to keep her poker face intact.

"Gonne, Kilroy, Uther..."

Gwen blinked.

"Kilroy, huh? That old dog! Thinks he can have my cute granddaughter! He's dreaming!"

Sweat beaded on Gwen's forehead.

"You're good." Surya laughed heartily. “For a noni, you’ve got a nice poker face, but you can't trick someone like me. Your pupils dilated when I said his name. Don't underestimate the eyes of a master Enchanter!"

"You're amazing, Opa." Gwen had to admit that had been both impressive and dangerous. Hopefully, her opa's astute mind wouldn't trigger her Geas and squash her head like a melon in a vice.

"Yeah, yeah, flattery will get you everywhere." Surya snorted, pleased with himself. "Let's get down to business."

"Please do, Opa."

"So…" Surya continued. "For crafting a unique, tier VI item, I charge about this much."

He showed her a figure by raising six fingers.

Gwen froze. She couldn’t afford that.

"Do you want to pay in instalments?"

"Opa…" Gwen forced a smile to her face, realising suddenly what her grandfather had done. The sly old fox. He had deflated her negotiatory momentum by pivoting to their loving relationship as opa and granddaughter! Now she was on the back foot! Should she remind him that any other Enchanter would love to work on the scale? That would be awkward; they just hugged. She really should have clinched the deal right there and then.

"Opa, you know I am penniless."

"Opa isn't a charity!" Surya grinned, enjoying Gwen's squirming, his demeanour full of sadistic satisfaction.

Oh, that's how you want to play it, huh? Gwen chuckled internally. If the old man wanted to play mind games, that was fine with her.

Meanwhile, her Opa continued unabated. "Opa has costs too, you know, I need mithril from black zones, enchanted gold from the Grey Market, specialised blade tips forged by tier VII Transmuters."

"Opa…" Gwen purred, the plosive “Pa” lingering in the air.

Her opa gulped.

Gwen leaned forward on her tippy toes, one hand strategically placed between her thighs to pull her dress tightly around her shapely legs, her off-hand pressed against her chest as though she was short of breath and deathly afraid. Still seated, she shifted her balance, mounting the workshop stool to swing her legs to one side. Her lips parted in distress, her eyes working up a mote of moisture.

"Opa, I have no money. I don't want to sell my body to Uncle's friends."

A bolt of lightning struck Surya full in the chest, setting his cynical husk of a heart ablaze with pathos.

"Don't even joke about that." Surya coughed as Gwen smacked his back to ease his recovery. She retrieved a glass of water for the old man.

"You're a piece of work, grandchild." Surya swallowed, clearing his throat.

"Touché."

Their eyes met.

"Hee hee hee, ha ha ha!" Surya exploded into roaring laughter; he hasn't felt so enthralled in years. The elation was liberating, as though a constriction around his chest had been removed; an irritating kidney stone passed at last.

"Alright, alright." He patted Gwen's hand, taking the chromatic scale from her fingers. "I'll do this thing for you pro bono, just this once."

"Thanks, Opa." Gwen gave him another hug.

A second into their joyous reunion, Gwen felt the old man pat her buttocks. Rather than flinging him from her like a spider, she hugged him with all her might.

"Arrrgh!" Surya cried out. "Can't breathe!"

Gwen released the old man from her deadly koala embrace.

"Can't take a joke, sheesh." Surya moved to one side of the workshop, placing the scale into a heavily warded drawer.

"Gonna take a good three or four months, I am afraid," he informed her. "Are you going to join the Sydney Inter-High Tournament? I should be able to finish it before then."

Gwen watched as Surya withdrew a wooden ring box, casually tossing it towards her. "Collateral for the material. It’s a small Storage Ring, about four litres of space. Operation Glyph is inscribed inside the box."

Gwen held the box in her hand, her heart throbbing with jubilance. "Opa, you don't have to."

"Nonsense!" He batted a hand at her. "You're on Team Opa now, and Opa is very generous."

Gwen's lips split to reveal pearly white teeth; a smile so entrancing it made Surya falter, wondering how the hell his crude daughter could have given birth to something so elegant.

“What’s this Inter-High Tournament?” Gwen asked quizzically.

“A cross-school competition,” Surya replied. “Don’t tell me your school hasn't enrolled you.”

“We’re a public school.”

“You go to a public school?”

“Blackwattle.”

Surya was speechless. “Your talent is wasted In Blackwattle,” he critiqued as a matter of fact. “You mentioned you needed money, right?”

“Yeah.”

"Want to beg and live on the charity of others?" Surya raised an eyebrow.

Gwen shook her head.

“Good. You should enter the Tournament then. The prize for the inter-high Championship is 900 HDM Crystals.”

Gwen held her breath. That was enough to see her through university. Maybe even enough to start an investment or two.

“Split amongst your team, of course. Additional prizes exist for other criterions such as control, versatility, power, defence, MVP and so on.”

“I don’t think my school can enter,” Gwen said sceptically. Surely someone would have mentioned it otherwise.

“Bosh! Any school can enter if they pass the preliminaries. Only the selective schools and a few private academies are seeded.”

Gwen took note but otherwise said nothing. The decision wasn’t hers to make. It wasn’t as if Surya or Gwen could register her school against their principal's will.

"Do you have a team?"

"I have a Tier IV Fire Evoker and a Tier II hybrid healer, as well as a Tier III Earth Transmuter."

Surya's raised a critical brow. "A healer, huh? That could be a real game changer. In that case, I reckon you need an Illusionist. Hardly anyone's got True Seeing at the lower tiers. Of course, the mundane thing to do is to get an Abjurer."

"I don't believe we have any good illusionists at school," Gwen interjected.

"Shame. See if you can dig one up. Do you know how rare it is to find a healer at your tier of magic? Until your Cleric is out of mana, your team can ignore minor injuries. The Questing component should be a cinch."

"I'll consider it, Opa."

Surya said nothing more.

They toured around the workshop after that. Gwen's grandfather showed her some of the projects he was currently working on—a mundane Ring of Water Breathing, a collection of Ioun Stones still in the process of being inscribed, a pair of slippers that allowed one to fasten one's feet to surfaces like a spider.

"Enchantment is using crystals to create, hopefully, something worth more crystals than the ingredients you expended," Surya explained. "The higher the tier, the higher the turnover."

"What's your best recipe Opa?" Gwen asked innocently.

"You got any more secrets to trade?"

Gwen smiled and said nothing.

"Then you can wait to find out."

With that, they exited the workshop.

"You want to stay for the night?" Surya asked, "I can have the sisters cook something nice."

"That won't be necessary Opa," Gwen answered sweetly. "I need to head back to the dorm."

"You board with two other girls," Surya enquired. "Is there much privacy?"

"No, not at all."

"Mind if I come and see how you're all living?"

"..."

"I am joking, of course."

"I suspected as much, Opa."

The duo chuckled awkwardly.

"I’d better take Percy home before it gets too dark. We still need to travel to the station."

"Of course. It was good to meet my cute cucu perempuan."

They hugged one more time, with Gwen wary of her grandfather's wandering hands.

"Model for me sometimes," he said.

"I'd love to," Gwen replied as Percy was brought out.

"Remember what I told you, Percy," Surya noted sternly. "And tell your mother to leave Gwen alone."

"Yes, Grandpa," Percy replied. He couldn’t believe he wasted a day doing nothing, and now he had attracted the ire of a crazy old codger.

Melissa drove the siblings to the countryside station, where the final city-bound train was due to depart in half an hour.

Surya watched the car disappear into the distance, smiling and cackling to himself. Numerous amusing ideas ran through the twisted channels of his devious mind, but for now, he had a Message to deliver.

He drew a Glyph in the air. A Message spell fired off beside his ear.

"Surya? It's been a while, old friend. What's the matter?" Henry Kilroy, head of the Ten, answered the Message. The Magister's tone, however, was one of bemusement. Surya knew better than to Message his private Glyph unless it was something urgent.

"Henry old boy, you owe me big time."

"Oh really? I think you still owe me for ripping me off, old friend. I still can't believe I paid you forty HDMs for that sculpture. I asked for something suitable for the lobby, not something to make the guards blush."

"Oh, I am not talking about that," Surya fired back. "I want to know what you did to hook your teeth into my cute cucu perempuan."

"Is… is that a Magical Creature of some kind? The Tower collects dozens of the damn things every month. How would I know which one's yours?"

"My cucu perempuan, ya old fart! My granddaughter!"

"You don't have a granddaughter, you senile old fool."

"So much for your tree-ring endemic memory! Surely you know my Gwen? Dark hair, hazel eyes, long legs."

"I cannot confirm nor deny awareness of this Gwen Song."

"Come on, old mate, she's my cute cucu perempuan. I am serious here."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"By your oath as a Magus."

"By the Credo, if I have to."

"Well, well." The Magister fell silent. "I still don't believe it. How did an ugly rock cod like you give birth to a rainbow trout?"

"It's called good genetics, Henry. You should try it sometime."

"I’ve got my Apprentices. Kids are beyond me."

"Well, who gave you permission to take mine?"

"Why so bitter? I still think you're lying. We've known each other for how long now? When's the last time you mentioned a granddaughter?"

"It's a long story. Listen, I want to know more about her, what's her deal, what are your plans."

"How much do you know?"

"I know she's a dual-school and dual-element, and I know she brought me a bloody Mythical tier Serpent Scale."

"Jesus, Surya." Henry's voice rose an octave. "You could have cracked her head open like an egg! How much did she tell you?"

"Nothing at all."

"Thank God."

"Why?"

"She's got a Greater Geas attached to her Astral Body."

"YOU BASTARD!"

"Look, it’s complicated. What're you doing now?" Henry asked.

"Nothing is more important than my cute cucu perempuan. Why? What are you thinking?"

"I'll clear my schedule. Can you come in?"

"Alright. Ya better not have done anything else to her, you deathless old dog."

On the train, Gwen sat in silence with Percy. Her brother had not spoken to her at all during the two-hour long trip. Instead, he preferred to answer in grunts and gestures, finding intense interest in the scenery flying past the window.

"Suit yourself," Gwen replied sulkily. The carriage was empty, so she produced the wooden box from Surya. By now, she had memorised the Glyph for activation, wearing the Storage Ring on her right ring finger. She waved her hand across the box.

It disappeared.

It appeared.

She repeated the process a dozen times, testing its quirks. From observation, the absorption had a maximum distance of a few centimetres. Within, items stowed in the ring's pocket dimension remained in stasis.

Four litres. It was a modest space, but it was enough for many things—crystals, I.D., cosmetics, light clothing, an extra pair of shoes.

As the train pulled closer to the city, more passengers boarded. Gwen rested her hand subtly, hiding the fact that she was wearing close to a hundred HDMs on her right ring finger. She caught a glance from Percy, his eyes green with envy, and fought down an impulse to give him the Storage Ring.

It was strange how things were playing out so similarly between her new and old world. In her past life, Percy likewise went to a Selective School, surpassing Gwen academically. When Gwen's successes accumulated, he’d grown increasingly distant. When Percy had started his own family, he had cut her from his life entirely. It was saddening even now to think that though every member of her family was all alive, they had all gone their separate ways. Her mother had left the country with her new husband. Her father lived his own life with his young bride. Their grandfather, she had never heard from again. Her brother never called.

When the train pulled into Forrestville, Gwen alighted with her brother, who left without a word. After switching to the inner city line, she leant her head against the window pane, then lost herself in the dull thrum of locomotion.

Chapter thirty-seven

The Grind

“Ihave set up a schedule for you." Master Kilroy's tired voice echoed through the Message spell beside Gwen's ear. "Alesia will bring it to you later today."

Gwen had not expected to hear from her Master so soon and therefore was utterly surprised when a Message bloomed beside her ear at six am, pulling her from the embrace of slumber.

She surveyed the dorm room. Seeing that Yue and Elvia slept unperturbed, Gwen realised her Master had been thoughtful enough to send her a Private Message Spell. Clearing her head, she returned a “Thank you”, then quietly dressed, slipping into her school uniform.

Training schedules and classes.

Hopefully, life was back to normal.

Normalcy survived until morning assembly, where Principal Bartlett introduced their new instructors.

Alesia was, unsurprisingly, staying on until the end of the year, filling in for those who had unfortunately departed. If nothing else, Gwen knew that Alesia also wanted to keep an eye on Yue, whose moniker, in Alesia's eyes, was already Apprentice number one.

After Alesia, the new instructors were introduced. The first was a nondescript woman. The next an ex-teacher brought out of retirement.

And then Gunther introduced himself.

The Radiant Mage came on like a demigod gracing the mortal realm. Instantly, his presence filled the auditorium, making the place shrink by the grace of his very existence.

Someone squealed, then all hell broke loose.

Gwen rolled her eyes, wondering if Gunther's charisma was a side effect of his Radiant element. Her Astrology Primer stated that prolonged use of particular elements altered one's physicality and mentality. Yue was hot-headed, her body resistant to cold and heat. Jun was cool-headed, his body resistant to cold. Debora had a toned figure with minimal fat; her once fair complexion now honeyed caramel. Elvia channelled Positive Energy, so surely that was why she was an angel. Alesia had a personality that was fire personified, and Master Henry had a face like a tree stump, although that could be his age.

Gwen wondered how her own physiology would be affected and what her physiological changes would be. Maybe she'd grow two red dots on her face and start shouting “Pika!” Or perhaps, she thought more frightfully, she would become an anorexic shadow, forever hungry.

"Oh my." Yue wiped away a stubborn trail of drool beside her small pink mouth. "I never knew what my type was, but…"

They watched as Gunther introduced his alias. A returned vet, just entering the education industry, please take care of me and so on. He announced that he was, like Alesia, a Magus by trade, an Evoker-Abjurer, with a talent for the Quasi-elemental Plane of Radiance, between Fire and the Positive Plane.

"Wow. That's rare, like one in a million rare," Elvia remarked. "Why are we getting instructors that could hold the position of head teachers in private schools?"

Yue shrugged. "Maybe Bartlett is well connected? All the old guys are military, most of them served during the Great Coral War. Some of them are surely big wigs up in the chain by now."

Then, to their surprise, Alesia stomped onto the stage and took Gunther by the arm. "He is my husband," she announced.

The crowd went completely silent. Then an uproar exploded across the hall, both boys and girls wailing in frustration and disappointment.

Behind the teachers, Gwen saw Principal Bartlett facepalm.

"Yes. Instructor Alesia is correct; she is my wife!" Gunther recovered in an instant. Taking Alesia by the waist, he raised their hands together triumphantly. They look like the president and the first lady on a rally, Gwen chortled. She would never want to be in a situation where she and Gunther had to contest a platform. Sharing the limelight with that man was the dictionary definition of being upstaged.

For some indiscernible reason, people began to clap. It spread until the sound filled the auditorium.

When the fiasco was finally over, Gwen returned to class.

Theories continued to be taught, experiments and demonstrations performed. New teachers and old students became acquainted. Gunther instructed one of Gwen's classes, Elementalism 202, taking to the role like a fish to water; the kids eating up every word as though it were gospel delivered straight from the horse's mouth.

Gwen met with Alesia after classes ended. She had sent her a Silent Message, excusing Gwen from Yue and Elvia's company.

"Here's your schedule, little sister." Alesia handed over a small notebook once they met on the rooftop. "Your resources will be allocated by Magus Bartlett. Have a look and see if you have any questions."

Gwen took the notebook and flipped it open. It was blank.

"Oh yeah, here's the Glyph for dispelling the ward." Alesia stuck out her tongue playfully before teaching Gwen the incantation.

Gwen invoked the Glyph, watching as the words materialised. There was a message from Master Henry encouraging her to work hard and be wary of her Void element, asking her to prioritise her Lightning. The next few pages had references for books her Master had recommended, primers and theories that pertained to Conjuration and such. When Gwen finally got to the schedule itself, she was surprised to find that her weekend training was not in fact with Alesia, but at a familiar address.

"Master knows my grandfather?" Gwen asked incredulously.

"Master Surya made several of Master's items, you know," Alesia stated. "If you had told us that you were his granddaughter, you probably could have been spared from a full-strength Geas."

"Are they well acquainted?"

"Don't know," Alesia confessed. "War buddies probably. Not many military Mages survived those early days in the seventies. Those who did were the ones who worked together."

Gwen flipped through the book until she caught a queer section where two weeks were outlined in purple with the simple moniker “Field Work—Black Cat”. "Any idea what this is?"

"Oh, that." Alesia smiled nostalgically. "Master has another old war buddy, Marc, who runs a sort of mercenary Questing company. He solves clients’ problems that the government doesn't want to deal with. Both Gunther and I worked for Black Cat when we were training. It was excellent work experience. Met lots of interesting people."

"There goes my school holidays." Gwen sulked, though she understood the necessity of perfecting her craft. No amount of practice in sheltered rooms and warded fields could beat that one weekend they had spent killing actual monsters in the Green Zone. Presumably, this “Black Cat” offered a similar fare.

"There are two weeks left for yourself if you manage to finish the quests," Alesia continued. "Gunther finished all of his in four days."

"Whoa. Somehow I don't find that surprising."

"It's an opportunity for you to make some money as well." Alesia laughed. "I recall Gunther made close to two hundred HDMs."

At the sound of clinking crystals, Gwen's heart soared. "How about you?"

"I finished all the subjugation requests," Alesia answered carefully.

"And?"

"then nothing."

"Of course." Gwen felt no desire to pursue Alesia's trauma. Indeed, sending her on diplomatic missions would likely result in burning buildings and charred corpses.

She continued to flip through the notebook. It was hand-written and meticulously drafted; every day there were activities and objectives. She flipped through the dates until she struck November, where she spotted the names of Yue and Elvia. "What's this?"

Alesia took a gander herself. "Looks like training for a Team Competition."

"What for?" Gwen asked; although an answer came to mind.

"Looks like 3v3 format to me, but two Evokers? You wouldn't have a tank unless…" Alesia eyes flashed. "Looks like my little sis is going to have a debut as a Conjurer-Evoker!"

Gwen flipped through the notebook all the way until she reached mid-2003. "Inter-High Tournament," she read out loud, "Champion, or MVP, is the minimum I expect from someone of your talent. We are expecting good things from you, Gwen.”

"We?" Gwen reread the line.

"Maybe Sufina's included?" Alesia suggested.

"Is entering the Inter-high comp feasible for someone like me?" Gwen enquired earnestly. Her knowledge of Spellcraft was average at best, and she had yet to exercise a single phenomenon in Conjuration. "Who participates in these things?"

Alesia pointed at herself. "I swept through singles and 3v3 about fifteen years ago."

The singular pronoun caught Gwen's attention. She guessed that if Alesia could envelop the other team in a massive AoE, it was technically possible. With an affinity for Fire at Alesia's tier, her spells were twice as powerful while costing half the mana.

Alesia pointed down toward the courtyard, where they could see Gunther’s new fan club trailing behind the Radiant Mage.

"And that guy was an all-star during his time. He swept the singles, 3v3, 5v5, the MVP, the works."

Gwen found no surprises in that revelation. "What's Gunther's School of Magic?" she asked.

"He's an Evoker with a blend of Conjuration-Illusion," Alesia answered. "His usual Spell List consist of Signature Spells he and Master composed for his Radiant talent."

"That sounds complicated," Gwen muttered, unable to imagine the process involved, much in the same way a senior science student struggled to discern the mechanics of the Large Hadron Collider.

"You don't ever want to see Gunther angry," Alesia spoke without a hint of mirth. "I don't know how he does it, but he can conjure beams of light as thin as your fingers but powerful enough to melt through a Mineral Abjurer's Shields."

"He can shoot lasers?!" Gwen gasped. But that conjecture didn't make sense either, even with gigawatts of energy. Laser cutting required time and heat to slice an object.

"What are lasers?" Alesia tipped her head at the foreign word.

"Beams of light?"

Alesia shook her head. She pursed her lips, then tried to explain the Astro-phenomenon. "Just as your Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void consists of Void matter, the absence of light, Radiance is the heart of stars. It's the combination of Positive Energy and Fire. Astrologist says that our sun is a gate into the heart of the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Radiance. Neat, huh?"

"That is pretty neat.” Gwen looked down into the courtyard. A Mage who shoots the heat of the sun as laser beams? That doesn't seem like a mortal ability. How potent were Gunther's light spells? Was there travel time to the target? How did an opponent ward against something like that? "What's he like in combat?"

Alesia tilted her head, taking on an air of nostalgia. "Gunther doesn't fight much these days. He's more of an administrator or a deterrent against trouble, ha! There was this one time a few years ago though, Master asked us to subjugate a particularly nasty group of Trolls—big ugly Earth Elementals with regeneration. During the fight, one of them caught me mid-air and knocked the wind out of me. He grabbed me by the ankles and was about twist off my foot…"

She caught Gwen with her mouth open. "Don't worry! They grow back. Master's got access to Regeneration. Anyway, just as I was gritting my teeth, there was a sizzling sound, and when I looked up, the Troll's face was gone. Like, it was just gone. Where the troll's face had been, there was a smoking hole. A perfect cylindrical hole. I didn't even hear Gunther invoke his Radiant Blast! I couldn't even see a beam!"

Gwen closed her mouth.

"So that's how powerful Gunther was two years ago. His Radiant Blast was able to penetrate clean through a Tier VII troll's face. One-hit K.O."

"..." Gwen could scarcely even imagine it. Her lightning blast would be a feather duster in comparison. "Does someone as powerful as Gunther have a fail-safe or something?"

"Like how?" Alesia blinked, her brow furrowing.

"Like, what if his powers are out of control or he gets mind controlled like I almost was."

"Then we’d better run!" Alesia laughed, her naivety and good nature incapable of registering Gwen's paranoia. "Although, it would be easier for me to summon a meteor shower than for a Mind Mage to penetrate Gunther's Ego."

Bloody oath. My brother-in-craft is Apollo reborn, Gwen thought enviously.

She wondered how Gunther would fare against the Serpent. Would he have been the one to put the Snake down had it reached the city? Were there others like him? Demigods, walking amongst men, playing politics for shits and giggles. What must it feel like for him to walk shoulder to shoulder with NoMs, knowing that a million of them wasn't worth a hair on his head?

Gwen shuddered. She should be glad Gunther seemed like a top bloke. "So when do I start the schedule?"

"Technically it starts today but ease into it."

"How closely should I follow it?"

"To the letter, I imagine. You'll be seeing Master every fortnight. He'll be testing you."

Gwen felt the notebook in her hands. She had the distinct impression that this was not the schedule of one benefactor, but two—a Magister and an overzealous opa. If she followed this religiously, she would be left with an hour of her own time per day. Her Saturdays and Sundays were both gone. Her school holiday plans with Elvia and Yue were up in smoke. Her extended summer holidays would be a seven-day training camp.

And yet, despite it all, Gwen felt a masochistic giddiness. If her sages buckled fortune on her back, then she must have the patience to bear the burden of love and expectation. For someone long used to neglect, a little fatherly faith made the greatest motivation.

Gwen's schedule began in earnest the next day.

6.00 am—rise, wash and breakfast.

7.00 am—morning jog around the suburb, six kilometres of steep inclines and descents.

8.00 am—prepare for school.

9.30 am—class begins after assembly.

11.30 am—recess.

12.00 pm—classes.

1.00 pm—lunch.

1.30 pm—practicals

3.30 pm—school ends, extracurricular training begins, Mana Management Foundations.

4.30 pm—break.

5.00 pm—Elemental Theory and Practicum.

6.30 pm—supper at the dorm.

7.30 pm—combat practice with Alesia and/or Gunther.

9.30 pm—return to dorm, wash and ready for bed.

10.30 pm—can't sleep because Elvia and Yue have endless questions.

11.30 pm—finally asleep because Gwen couldn't keep her eyes open long enough.

12.00 am—sweet, sweet oblivion.

Gwen woke with a start, thinking it was Monday or Tuesday, only to realise that it was Thursday or Friday. Her days and nights blended into one; her sense of time realised only by the hill climb from Jubilee to Glebe Point to Wentworth Park.

There were few pleasant surprises along the way, however. On one brisk morning jog, she met with a recovered Debora powering up and down the hills as though she were on flat ground. Jogging in tandem, they enjoyed a shared moment of the runner's high, thereafter taking to synchronise their schedules to share the morning routine. Debora told Gwen that she was working on her strengthening spells, trying to attain the next tier of Bronze Skin for better defence and Bronze Flesh for elemental resistance.

Meanwhile, Yue had taken up training with Alesia. The Scarlet Sorceress finally hinted to her the possibility of an Apprenticeship. A few weeks into the schedule, Yue then joined Gwen for Elemental Theorem and Mana Foundations. Later, she discovered that whenever Gunther trained with her, Alesia trained with Yue. The parallel made her glad and happy, putting her anxiety over Yue's future at ease.

After mid-year, the girls had to say goodbye to Jun and Henley, who were going to enrol and begin their military service. To the boys’ surprise, Alesia pulled a few strings and they both managed to get into the divisions most suited to their talents. Jun entered an officer's training school with a commendation for valour from the Serpent incident. Henley entered the Intelligence Division, where he received the opportunity to focus on his Divination. Gwen received a half-day recess for the boy's sending away party, and the friends promised to see one another outside school as young adults.

By late July, she had mastered elementary Conjuration and was fast approaching her first milestone—a special ceremony for all Conjurers. It was to take place at her grandfather's estate, where both Opa and Master had spared no expense creating a complex and expensive Summoning Circle. According to a cheeky Yue, this was the moment in which all fledgeling Conjurers lost their proverbial virginity. Gwen was to receive her first summons—her first companion; a Familiar for life.

Chapter thirty-eight

Here be Monsters

Gwen snuck out from the dorm bright and early Sunday morning, snug in jeans and sneakers, leaving behind her sleeping companions.

She had asked for permission to let Elvia and Yue in on her secret but was turned down by her mentors on the grounds of loose lips sink ships.

"Especially your Void talent," Gunther solemnly informed her. "It's a lethal element for both yourself and others. Until your mind and body grow into it, avoid using it."

Having no desire to pass out mid-channel, Gwen took Gunther's advice to heart.

She made the now familiar trip to the tableland estate up the Hunter, marvelling at the change in scenery as the warm winters of Sydney gave way to moody spring showers. The wattles were now in full bloom, the flame trees alive with pink galahs feeding in noisy gangs. Paddocks of shivery grass burst onto fields of jezebels, covering the countryside in unnamable wildflowers of every colour and hue.

Melissa came to pick her up. As usual, the two women shared moments of mirth as the old Mercedes rumbled down the gravelly road. When they arrived at the estate, Gwen found both her opa and Master having tea beside the water feature.

“Master.” Gwen bowed deeply, and then again to her grandfather. “Opa.”

“Gwen.” Master Henry looked unchanged—an old professor in tweed.

“Hi, sweetie!” A voice called out from the infinity pool. Gwen turned to see Sufina in the guise of a small girl, likely to save on mana. She had both stiletto feet in the pool and looked to be having a good, long soak, the water rippling around her bare legs in twin concentric circles.

Not far from the pool was a raised platform of earth, upon which was an intricate system of Glyphs in the form of a summoning circle. From her studies, Gwen recognised it was a medium-tier warding system used for constraining tier III–VI beasts. As the cost of potency was exponential, her opa had evidently spared no expense.

Gwen took a deep breath, calming her nerves. “Any particular advice before I begin, Master?”

Henry smiled in that gentle, sagely manner she had grown accustomed to over the last few months. “Whatever comes to you naturally, my child.”

“Bah!” Surya ejected two gusts of air from his nostrils. “With the amount I spent on that circle, Gwen better summon something special.”

“Now, now, old friend, let's not get too ahead of ourselves. It will do her no good to contact something she cannot control. A Conjurer’s first beast is always special, and one too powerful or unruly would only ruin her development.”

“What was your first familiar, Master?” Gwen asked curiously.

Henry’s eyes moved kindly to Sufina. “When I met Sufina, she was only a tier II wood sprite, too weak to be useful in combat. But I knew, from the moment our minds touched, that we were meant to be Summoner and Familiar. She has grown much since those days when I was a young man; more powerful than myself in many ways, and she has more room to grow yet.”

Gwen nodded. Growing together with your Familiar. That sounded very nice indeed. Her master was telling her not to mind if she found something that appeared weaker than she had anticipated. Of course she wouldn't mind! For a woman with two cats, living with a companion animal was par for the course.

“I think that’s wonderful, Master. I want to raise my Familiar to become the very best, like no Familiar ever was. This summoning is a test. To raise it— is my cause.”

Henry smiled warmly, satisfied with her response. Gwen had a way with words which always pleased him. “You warm my old bones, child,” he praised her articulation. “Nonetheless, let all things be as nature intends. Clear your mind. Allow the mana to flow through the Sigil unimpeded. Whatever your Familiar turns out to be, I can assure you, you won't be disappointed.”

“Well, with the rarity of materials you requested from me, nature better provide something worth its weight in mithril,” Surya intoned sulkily.

“Surya…” Master Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gwen possesses the essence of that serpent. She also possesses two elements, one of which is Void. God knows what will come out of that Quasi-Elemental Plane. For all we know, she might open a portal to the abyss."

A small distance away, Gwen’s confidence deflated.

"You'll be fine, dear. Whatever comes out is bound to make a contract with you, if it ever wants to leave.” Her opa grinned wickedly. "I had the warding drawn with gryphon blood, the seals reinforced with powdered mithril. The Glyphs themselves are your Master's own. written in Elvish. Hell, if you summoned an Abyssal Drake, it would still take a good few minutes to turn loose. In that time, your Master here would have it beaten into submission."

"I am beginning to think that asking for your aid was a bad idea," Henry remarked sceptically.

Gwen regarded the circle. What would come out? A pair of dogs would be nice, cats even better. Please don't let it be something weird, like slimes or a slug.

"Up ya get, girl!" Surya slapped Gwen on the buttocks, sending her stumbling onto the platform. "Show this Master of yours what you can do."

"Gwen, be careful," Henry added, shooting Surya a disapproving look. If that had been Alesia, Surya would be bereft of his eyebrows.

Gwen located the centre of the Summoning Sigil on the floor and positioned herself within the array of Glyphs. She recreated the complex network of Glyphs enabling the summoning of familiars within her mind's eyes, then allowed the mana from her Astral Body to permeate her physical being, forming a complex network of conduits. Below her, the summoning circle began to glow, its Glyphs flashing and writhing as though alive, consuming their precious ingredients.

"Steady… steady." Surya mouthed beside Henry, but Gwen was already within a world of her own.

First, she sent a clear stream of pure mana to stabilise the circle, her channelling steady and without deviation. She had trained unrelentingly for the last three months under the tutelage of her Master and siblings, who had spent a small fortune on mana crystals to fortify her reserves. After double and triple-checking the spell, she was ready for the final invocation.

"Summon Familiar!"

The space within the portal distorted, reaching out into the aether and creating a vortex that would deposit whatever being her distinct mana signature plucked out from the Elemental Planes.

Please don't be something with more than four legs, Gwen prayed. Or possess a distended secondary jaw with acidic blood.

All of a sudden, she felt a tug against her soul, overwhelmed by an all-too-familiar sense of vertigo. She saw within her mind's eye dark motes blending into a swirl of black mana like fish in a tidal pool. For months, the Void motes had renounced her command, refusing to be formed, moulded or employed. But now they moved, stabbing at the edge of her mind, seeking a way out. From Master Henry, she knew that every manifestation of the Void would cost her a pound of flesh.

You want out? she taunted the ball of tenebrous energy scornfully. Obey me!

Gwen willed herself to contain the volatile mass, forcing it to scatter. The more she constrained it, however, the more fiercely it struggled, dashing itself again and again against her conduits, sending out shockwaves of agony into her physical body.

Gwen grunted with exertion. She was expending too much stamina containing this thing. If she fought it any longer, she would be too distracted to maintain the Summoning Circle.

Fine, she derided the thrashing blob. Out with it!

Gritting her teeth, she awaited her trial by Void. She was going to face the inevitability of using her second element sooner or later, though she would have preferred building up a stronger fortitude. Master Henry had told her that the only way to safely manifest her Void element was to use it sparingly, ideally offset by a vast amount of Positive Energy.

With the feeling of a valve turned loose, she opened the proverbial floodgates to the Quasi-elemental Plane, sending half of her mana into that black abyss.

A moment of silence hung in the air, then a torrent of tenebrous mana poured forth, polluting the Glyphs her Master had painstakingly etched.

Outside, Surya, Henry and company watched as sudden slivers of inky darkness burst from their ward's body, smothering the summoning circle with Negative Energy.

"Shit!" Surya cried out. "Henry!"

"Sufina!" Henry needed no compulsion to command his Familiar, who raised a dainty, sculpted hand, germinating branching vines that caught Gwen by the waist and shoulders, suffusing the girl with a viridescent glow of pure vitality. Visibly, her body hungrily consumed Sufina's life force, marring the Dryad's flawless skin with wrinkles.

"Henry!" Sufina retorted, her tone worrying and peevish. "Are you sure about this?"

"Keep her fed, whatever it takes," Surya commanded Sufina. "Use the life force from the Grot."

Sufina assumed her adult form. From where she stood in the water of the infinity fountain, lilies and sedge rapidly sprouted.

A pinpoint sphere appeared in the Summoning Circle. From within, a small obsidian tendril wiggled forth, slithering forward to form an ebony serpent a metre in length, its girth as thick as an arm.

"What the hell is that?" Surya asked as Sufina blasted Gwen with another jolt of vital energy.

"No idea but it looks like trouble." Henry pulled out his staff, a length of Heartwood shaped from Sufina's Spirit Tree. "The Void is a place of infinite hunger and nothingness."

"Nothingness?" Surya demanded, doubtful of the Tower's officious knowledge of the Plane. "I think we just proved that something exists there, after all."

As if addressing Surya’s question, the snake lashed out towards Gwen, stopping when it body-slammed the barrier, sending silver-white sparks flying in all directions.

"It's mindlessly hostile." Henry sighed disappointedly. "Maybe it's best to terminate. I planned for a sentient being. That thing looks like a solid mass of pure, life-draining malice."

"Bah!" Surya spat, producing a wand to activate the Banish function of his Warding Circle. With a clink, the metal extended to become a full-sized sceptre, its business end adorned with a model cage housing an egg-sized Creature Core. "Halt!"

It was Sufina who interceded. "That serpent is sentient. I can feel its hunger and rage. Give Gwen a chance."

The old men regarded each other.

As an elemental being of the upper tier, Sufina could communicate with lesser elemental creatures. If the serpent could indeed feel, then perhaps it was worth keeping.

"Whatever it is, it's too dangerous." Surya raised his staff to smite the damned thing.

Crack!

A sudden blast of lightning cracked across the Summoning Circle's interior. The duo watched in amazement as a solid beam of Elemental Lightning materialised into a second serpentine form.

The obsidian snake turned towards its new companion and hissed, its maw opening disgustingly to reveal a barbed tongue. Heedless of its warning, four short limbs sprouted from the second Familiar, its body elongating and twisting until the distinct form of a mammalian snout formed and a short tail could be seen.

"What now? " Surya hefted his wand.

"That creature. I think I recognise it.” Henry observed.

"What is it?” Surya grumbled. If that dark serpent creature was some unnamable beast of the Void, what could Gwen possibly have summoned to suppress it? Was it a celestial being? Elemental lighting brought to life? Perhaps a pseudodragon?

The lightning retracted into the thing's body, forming into strands of buzzing, electric fur.

"My God, it's—" Henry squinted to see.

"What is it?!" Surya was beside himself. "Out with it, old man!"

"I think it's a badger.”

Gwen's Master was wrong, for her creature was less a badger and more a mongoose.

Unlike Henry and Surya, who could only see the snake as a dark mass of malice, Gwen had a front and centre close up of its wretched state. The thing was less a snake and more of a slimy, slithering leech. Under its smooth carapace, its head was like that of a faceless lamprey, possessing only a mouth. In Gwen's opinion, disgusting and revolting were words too weak to do her revulsion justice.

And that was why when Gwen channelled the rest of her mana into her Lightning summon, she called forth a serpent's natural enemy.

Surya and Henry watched with interest as a blur of white fur encircled the dark serpent. The snake appeared far more dangerous, but every time it tried to attack, the mongoose would evade before nipping away a chunk of its dark mana.

"What's happening now?" Surya demanded of his old commander.

"A white badger is duelling a black snake," Henry replied matter-of-factly, “in a summoning circle."

"..." Surya rolled his eyes. So much for the wisdom of the Ten.

Within Gwen's Summoning Circle, the battle was titanic. As with an IMAX documentary, she witnessed every detail—the horrifying lamprey face, the barbed tongue, the throbbing flesh. The mongoose, in turn, fired off synaptically bolts of electricity that teased and irritated the deranged serpent, dashing to and fro, too quick for the snake-worm.

Come on, Sparky! Kick its ass! she commanded her mongoose.

'Ee ee!' The mongoose emitted a sharp trill, signalling its master. She understood that it was calling for her to supply more mana.

"Alright, here it goes." Gwen squeezed out the last ounce of mana she had held in reserve, channelling it through her Conjuration Sigil. Instantly, the mongoose grew in size.

The snake hissed and lunged, its maw going for the throat. Empowered, Gwen's mongoose strafed the serpent as it passed, dashing it to the floor violently. A burst of purple-black ichor sprayed from a wound, causing it to twitch in agony.

"Shaa! Shaa!" It screeched, and Gwen felt its trepidation and panic. It too demanded mana from her. With a haughty glee, Gwen refused, demanding it to submit to her mental contract.

The thing quailed and became pliable.

But now the ophidian's Master felt herself the victim of an immediate dilemma. Did she really want to form a contract with this thing? This alien abomination? Was it okay to say no? In what world could a xenomorph-cum-Lovecraftian horror be a companion? What kind of twisted Path would she embark upon if her chosen companion was the darling spawn of Cthulhu?

Another part of Gwen, a pragmatic part of her, informed her that this was the creature that had shown up when she had injected her void mana into the circle. Something in the universe had compelled this thing to come to her. Who was she to deny it?

By that rationale, the creature belonged to her. It was her responsibility. Moreover, it wasn't as though she had to fight the abyssal horror. That was her opponent's problem.

Gwen sent forth her consciousness again, touching the weakened alien mind and feeling it caress her own.

Beast, obey me! Become my Familiar! Gwen whipped the worm with her will, lashing it with command and compulsion, just as her Master had instructed.

"Shaaa, shaa. Hsss…" The serpent responded compliantly, bleeding ichor all over the Glyphs upon the floor. In the next moment, its consciousness melded into her Astral Body, generating a pocket dimension where summoned creatures resided, establishing an empathic link.

With the worm thing gone, Gwen now faced the triumphant mongoose. Gwen cooed at the magnificent creature, coaxing its cooperation.

"Ee! Eeee!" it replied. Gwen again felt a melding within her Astral Body, engendering a second pocket dimension.

"Heavens, she's succeeded in taking the snake." Henry breathed out. "I am surprised it chose submission. Sufina was right. It was sentient after all."

In the next moment, the mongoose likewise dissipated into motes of lightning.

"How curious," Henry observed. "Looks like her elements are oppositional rather than cooperative. That was two completely distinct Familiars. She's going to have her hands full trying to wrangle them. Maybe one will counter the other?"

The Summoning Circle glowed for a moment more, then spluttered and died. With its magic spent, the priceless ingredients turned to dust.

The two old men waited for Gwen to gather her wits.

"I've done it, Master!" Gwen returned, skipping forward proudly. "I have tamed both the Void and the Lightning beast!"

At the edge, her knees gave out. With a yelp, she tumbled from the platform.

A dozen helpful tendrils from Sufina caught Gwen before she struck the floor.

"Congratulations, Gwen." Henry moved to remove his Apprentice from Sufina's makeshift hammock. She had met all his expectations and more.

Surya motioned to Melissa, who materialised a mid-tier mana potion.

"Drink this," her opa commanded.

Gwen thanked him before swigging down the expensive restorative, feeling energised as the potion restored her mana reserves.

"Take it slow. Let it infuse you," Henry advised, then smiled encouragingly. "We eagerly anticipate a demonstration of your new Familiars."

Gwen nodded. She sat cross-legged beside Sufina and meditated until she could distinctly feel her Familiars stabilising.

"Alright." She took a deep breath, turning to her fatherly mentors. "For my next act…"

Chapter thirty-nine

Of Monsters and Gwen

Gwen felt no fear nor hesitation as she completed the Conjuration Sigil, inducing the lightning-charged mana to materialise a snow-white marten, its body sleek and elegant, its fur fluffy with static.

"Eee! Ee!" It trilled like a songbird, then ran around her ankles before leaping onto her shoulder, where it perched adorably, its whiskers sparking with electricity.

"An aesthetic docile form," Henry remarked approvingly. “A lightning weasel, from the looks of it. I assume the mongoose is its combat form."

“Sufina has a combat form?”

“Oh yes.” Henry nodded sagely. “She's terrifying when she’s mad.”

“Yes, yes, a pretty pet is all well and good, but is it strong?" Gwen's opa preoccupied himself with finding out if he got his money's worth from the Summoning Circle. He pointed to the white marten on Gwen’s shoulders. "Let's see it do some damage."

Henry glanced at Sufina, who casually sprouted two dozen roving bushes in the distance, meandering aimlessly.

Gwen sent a mental command to her marten, enlivening it with a dose of lightning mana. Her creature leapt from her shoulder, landing dextrously, transforming as it did so. Its fur became jagged shards of electrified needles, its girth expanding until it attained the size of a metre-long mongoose. It leapt, transforming into a streak of blue and purple, instantly striking three targets with electric-charged bite attacks.

It's like a taser, Gwen marvelled. A mongoose-shaped taser.

The two old men nodded in satisfaction. The mongoose's speed was formidable. However, like many attacks that favoured speed, its power left something to be desired.

Gwen tapped into her empathic link with the creature, asking if it had any range attacks. Heeding her command, her mongoose crouched on all fours, raising its back. With a shuddering of fur, it blasted off hundreds of tiny lightning-charged darts, each a sliver too small for the eye to discern.

Pak! Pak! Pak!

A flailing tree dummy spontaneously transformed into a cactus.

'Ee!' An impulsive demand for spellcasting arose in Gwen's mind. "Lightning Bolt!" She invoked her latest Evocation staple, sending out a line of blue-white lightning from the tip of her fingers.

"Good girl!" Surya clapped. "Ya got Evocation to tier III!"

Lightning Bolt was one of the most iconic signature spells of Evokers beside the ubiquitous Fireball, perfected by the generations of Mages that had come before her. At Alesia's behest, she had spent weeks practising the incantation and invocation, training with it until she was out of mana, then recovering with HDMs.

Crack!

To Gwen’s surprise, her mongoose's white bristles acted as a lightning rod much in the same way as her Guiding Bolt. Her cobalt bolt arced through the air, a blast of pure plasma, striking the cactus shrub with unerring accuracy. The electrical blast then radiated through the bristles, creating small secondary electrical explosions between the pins. The tree glowed pure white for a split-second, then exploded in every direction.

"Eee! Ee!" The creature returned to its marten form, having spent its allotment of mana. To remain persistently in combat form would require a constant channel, which Gwen was too inexperienced to maintain. Returning to her, it nudged her storage ring, from which she produced a small mana crystal for it, which it crushed like a dog biscuit.

"A brilliant Conjuration, Gwen." Surya seemed well pleased with his investment. “Synergy attacks with Familiars are typically attained much later. Your Elemental Affinity may be greater now than your last assessment. What is it now?”

“I won’t be updating my student card until the Inter-High Tournament, Opa. Master says to keep my talents under wraps.”

“Do you have access to a chamber, Gwen?” Surya enquired eagerly.

“She can use the Observatory at the Tower,” Henry explained. “Though I would advise discretion, invariably, the private schools have alumni in the Tower."

They conversed until the creature had finished its meal. Gwen tried to recall her marten, but instead, it ran to Surya and Henry, stood up on its two hind legs, then made a begging motion with its forepaws. The old men laughed, then each materialised an HDM for her Familiar. To Gwen's dismay and envy, the creature’s eyes glinted with mischievous delight, then stowed the crystals inside its mouth pouch.

"What are you going to name it?"

According to her Master, names bound the Familiar to the Conjurer.

For Gwen, the moment she had seen her two creatures, she had known their names. “Ariel,” she declared. “A Spirit of The Tempest.”

Though her instructors didn't know the allusion, they found the name to be pleasing, its sound melodious to the ear.

“Eee! Ee!” Ariel seemed to like its name as well. It returned to her with its mouth full of crushed crystals, dropping motes of mana dust on her shirt as it chewed. Gwen waited until it was done before invoking the banishment command, returning Ariel to its pocket dimension.

“Well done.” The gathering readied themselves for the next Familiar.

“How’s your vitality?” Henry demanded. They’d had to suffuse Gwen with Sufina’s life force during the ritual. For Gwen, summoning her Void Familiar meant that she would be suffusing her mana conduits with the Negatively charged Void matter.

“I feel fine, Master.” Gwen took a deep breath, vaguely aware that Sufina had protected her. “Shall I proceed?”

“Be careful,” Surya intoned worriedly.

Gwen called out to her serpent.

"Shaaa!" came a reply in her mind. It refused to move from its pocket dimension.

“Caliban! Heel!” she called out affirmatively, her imperial tone compelling obedience from the netherworld ophidian.

It came.

The thing materialised like a grotesque drop of black ink. It fell onto the spent summoning circle, a slithering mass of darkness, wetly coalescing until it took on its physical body.

To Gwen and the others’ astonishment, its appearance was aesthetic.

The ophidian worm's sinuous body had a dark, ebony sheen, as though sculpted from glossy obsidian. Its carapace dermis absorbed the light of day, changing hue as it slithered. The thing's faceless head wasn't the terrifying maw Gwen had seen previously, but an elegant configuration akin to a Prince Rupert's drop. Within its torso, inky dashes of Void matter moved in abstract filigrees.

“My word, what a creature.” Henry raised a bushy brow, surprised by the difference between expectation and reality. “To think even something from the Void can be beguiling and arresting. How wondrous the unknown can be!”

“Indeed,” Surya mused, his artist's eye twinkling. There was something strangely sensual and erotic about the phallic creature. Didn't they say that Familiars reflected their Masters’ psyches? He regarded his granddaughter, then the worm thing, wondering why Gwen had chosen this thing out of all innumerable options.

“Shall we see what it can do?” Henry asked. “Gwen, be very careful of its life drain. Sufina, look after her.”

Gwen nodded. She mentally commanded the serpent to strike one of the moving shrubs. Below, Caliban turned toward the bush with complete disinterest. "Caliban! Attack!"

She allowed a nip of Void-tinged mana to permeate her conduits.

“Mnnnghn—” Dizzying fatigue beset her body, filling her veins with ice.

Not far from Caliban, Henry and Surya were still admiring its glossy form when, without warning, Caliban's carapace split to reveal a pulsating head of purple flesh. The creature opened its mouth, a lamprey's sucker lined with hooked teeth, then reared up to its full height.

“Jesus FUCK!” Surya cried out, almost tripping over himself in an attempt to back away.

“By the Magi!” Henry likewise fought back a mouthful of bitter revulsion.

Even at half the height of a grown man, Caliban was a terrifying sight to behold. "Shaa! Shaa!"

Its faceless mien searched this way and that, locking onto the old men before moving intelligibly toward the shrubs. A drop of grey goo drooled from its puckering mouth.

“Bloody oath, Gwen. I just lost ten years of my life.” Surya clutched his chest with one hand.

Caliban! Melee! Gwen willed Caliban to attack. It slithered with surprising speed towards the shrubs, leaping off the platform and moving onto the grass. Where her worm ventured, life perished, leaving trails of meandering grey grass on Surya’s lawn.

Upon reaching its first target, Caliban coiled its body, then struck like a spring. Without so much as a plop, it tore clean through the wooden frame of the animated shrub, bursting through to the other side.

Range strike! Gwen fought its grudging compliance.

To Henry's and Surya’s abject horror, Caliban opened its lamprey’s mouth and shot forth a flesh barb—a harpoon tongue that leapt from its maw to pierce a shrub.

Then, to their growing dismay, it pulled the non-sentient puppet, thrashing and twitching, towards itself.

Finally, as though insufficiently traumatising, its head distended, the carapace opening until it became gigantic and bulbous. The lamprey's mouth then widened, sucking the shrub into its maw.

When the last branch disappeared, Gwen sensed a mote of vitality returning to her body, restoring a little of what she had spent. "Cali—"

Before she could overcome her fascinated repugnance, her darkling spawn of Shub-Niggurath returned to her. Caliban had seen Ariel’s actions and thought it flattering to likewise rub up between her legs, making infinity circuits around her ankles.

Henry and Surya watched with bile-in-mouth as Gwen fed it a crystal. Below, the serpent's tentacle tongue snagged her fingers before swallowing a crystal whole. It then turned to beg as Ariel had done, forcing both Henry and her opa to discard a handful of shards.

Return! Gwen demanded. After collecting its prize, her ophidian worm slinked into the darkness of its pocket dimension to rest.

“Well, that was something.” Surya swallowed nervously.

“That’s one word for it.” Henry took a deep breath. “Gwen, I would use Caliban sparingly if possible.”

“He does seem a little excessive," Gwen agreed. Curiously, the goo from Caliban had killed the grass but had not damaged herself or her shoes.

“That thing’s a he?” Henry shuddered. “How can you tell?”

“Well, it is shaped rather like, you know…” Gwen made a shape with her hand.

“Right.” Henry coughed gently. "Familiars are sexless, by the way, at least until you acquire a Spirit.”

"A Spirit? Master?" If Henry meant a Spirit like Alesia's Crimson Caracal, that prospect would likely be in a very distant future.

“You know, I feel inspired.” Surya looked around and saw his sculpture workshop in the distance. “That thing was brutal and disgusting, but you had to admit, there was a kind of alien sensuality.”

Gwen and Henry looked at Surya blankly.

“I need to go. You two make yourself comfortable. Melissa! Tess! Work time!”

Surya stormed off. Tess and Mel apologised profusely. Gwen's Master waved his hand disinterestedly to show that he was not offended.

“So, now that we have that sorted.” Henry turned to his junior Apprentice and appraised the girl.

The schedule that he and Surya had set was militant, as much a test of her physical prowess as it was her will. It was designed to raise her foundational abilities for the Inter-High competition rapidly. There, Gwen would have to complete against prodigies from families reared on the finest of mana-rich cuisine, taught by the best tutors and instructors.

But they had made good progress. Ariel was an excellent beastie; a reliable companion with good growth potential—loyal, obedient and it possessed a synergising ability.

That Caliban-beast, however, was a subject for future research. For now, it was best if Gwen avoided using it altogether. Void and Dust were two of the most dangerous Sanctioned Magic a Mage of the Tower could channel. Henry, of all people, knew its self-destructive power. Even a slip of the mind could lead Gwen down a path of wretchedness.

Simply put, the girl was too weak and inexperienced to wield Void Magic. He needed to ease her into it, ideally, have her exercise its powers under supervision. In time, her control over Conjuration and her Familiars will grow, mitigating the risks of self-harm. Unlike last time, Henry now knew the wisdom of patience.

Furthermore, there was also the matter of presenting her to the other members of the Ten, as exposure was unavoidable if she wanted to have a career of any kind. She would be a surefire hit with the military bigwigs, desperate for an ace to outfit their aerial assault wings. Alesia had been a great ace, though her personality was unsuited for military discipline.

He briefly recalled the heydays of the Coral Sea War, when Void Magic had so frightened the Demi-human tribes that they offered sacrificial tributes to sue for peace. The militant Faction drooled just thinking about the possibility of bringing back the “good old days”. But their dominion had come at a great personal cost to Henry. Would Gwen be able to maintain her sanity if she was commanded to wipe out a village filled with defenceless xeno-women and children?

“Master?” Gwen’s voice interrupted the ruminating Magister.

“Sorry, I was tidying up some thoughts,” Henry spoke softly, his glazed eyes once again lucid. “So, as I was saying, you should probably use Caliban sparingly. I fear he would draw unwarranted attention, perhaps even the attention of forces beyond our ken.”

“Beyond even the Tower’s knowledge?”

“Oh yes,” Henry replied. “It is rare, but not impossible for Demi-humans to be amongst the endless multitude of humanity. What I fear are secret cabals, people like Edgar, Mages who walk a darker path than we, who would take great interest in a girl like you.”

Gwen shivered.

"Of course, Gunther, Alesia and I will protect you. Still, discretion is advised."

“Shall I hide Caliban then?” Gwen questioned her Master, hiding her disappointment. She had been looking forward to putting her Familiars to use, even Caliban.

“Use your discretion,” Henry replied. “If they know, they know. I'll keep you safe. Talent attracts attention. There will always be those who are envious of talent, worship it or seek to despoil other's gifts for selfish ends, but our Credo will always be those words you so admirably uttered.”

“Noblesse oblige.”

“Yes.” Henry gave a small cough. Behind her Master, Sufina stirred. “You have another three months—cough—and that should be plenty of time to master the use of these two. I would think that you will be ready to work with Mac— cough.”

“We had best get going, Henry,” Sufina grumbled as her Master's coughing persisted. The Dryad produced a small pool of mead in her hand and allowed Henry to drink directly. Gwen aided by massaging her Master’s back as his chesty convulsion eased.

“Yes, best we get back to the grot,” Henry agreed. “Gwen, all the best to you. Listen to your Grandfather, don’t be afraid to ask your brother and sister-in-craft for help. That’s what they are there for.”

“Thank you, Master.” Gwen bowed.

There was a flash of Conjuration mana, then they were gone. Teleportation, without the need for Circle or beacons. A tier VII spell.

Gwen looked around at the infinity pool, somewhat surprised to find that she was utterly alone. There were still a dozen-odd animated shrubs that were wandering around the place, reminding her of a hypothesis that needed affirming.

She summoned Caliban again, her Familiar full of enthusiasm that it had been invoked twice instead of that upstart mongoose. Gwen portioned to it another mass of Void-tinged mana, fighting back the sick in her chest. She watched as Caliban transform into that Lovecraftian nightmare, then gave it a mental command to ravage the shrubs. With each animated bush that it destroyed, she could feel a bit of vitality returning to her, restoring a little of what she had spent. Before long, Caliban's cargo of Void mana depleted, returning to its aesthetic form with an air of satisfaction.

Interesting. Gwen smiled weakly to herself. If Caliban could somehow sustain her like this, then it was possible to have prolonged periods of usage. She sent a mental command for Caliban to return, and the happy abomination returned to her, coiling up her waist and rubbing up against her cheek. In its docile form, the carapace was smooth and cool, like a serpent sculpted entirely from precious stone polished to perfection. Gwen tried to feed it another crystal, but the overexcited thing smeared grey goo all over her chin. Suddenly nauseated, she banished it into the pocket dimension.

“I guess I better head back,” she said to no one in particular.

Her subsequent three months of schedules were about to begin and her next milestone was working odd-jobs for this “Mac”, Surya and Henry’s war buddy.

Like a child with a new toy, she couldn't wait to exercise her powers as both an Evoker and a Conjurer.

Back in the Grot, Henry lay in bed, cradled by his Familiar.

“Henry, my saplings are all gone,” Sufina reported to her master.

Henry sighed. “She's a curious one.” He shook his head. “I wonder if she'll be like her.”

“She won't. I like Gwen,” Sufina sulked cattily. “If you recall, I never liked that witch, not ever.”

“I suppose,” Henry remarked sternly. “But Gwen's Path is her own. If she possesses the means to overcome the fate of her kind, then she will do with or without our interference. It's is not a problem of power or magic Sufina, this is…”

“The human condition,” Sufina finished for him. “So you keep saying.”

Henry unleashed another chain of hacking coughs. Sufina produced another dose of the Golden Mead—the distilled liquid of her life force, drawn from the Wildland grot of her heart tree, then fed it to her Master.

"Master, are you—"

“I am fine, a little overexerted by that Summoning Circle.” Henry coughed. "It's been a while."

“You must be careful.”

“Still, Gwen worries me. My mind is not still.”

“Master?”

“I fear they will take her, Sufina. The Void talent is too precious. To them, she could be a priceless wellspring.”

“We'll protect her."

“What a dilemma.” Henry laughed bitterly. “Give her too much power, and she becomes a monster. Shelter her too much, and she becomes the tool of another. How hard it is to be free! Hiding her talent was wrong, Sufina. We didn’t know. How could we have known?"

Henry was almost in a trance now, half his consciousness taken by the mead, the other half treading the dark waters of some distant memory.

“It’s not the same.” Sufina stroked Henry’s hair. "Gwen is strong."

“Yes, not the same, not the same.” Henry’s speech slurred. “We won’t lose her, not like before, not like before. Oh, poor Lizzy!”

“Shu… sleep now." Sufina winced as the name broke Henry's lips. Entering her Master's unprotected mind, she drugged him to sleep, tapping into her Dryad's powers. "Henry, you need rest.”

As agony on Henry’s face slowly faded, Sufina laid her head upon his chest and listened to her Master's rhythmic breathing. As a Sprite, she knew not the meaning of sleep, and so she could sit beside Henry and ward his dreams against the past, thinking sweetly of Gwen, thinking bitterly of that woman who had hurt her master long ago.

Chapter forty

A False Start

When Gwen had moved into her first apartment, the loneliness of coming home to an empty abode blindsided her. Previously, she had always shared dorms and rooms with girlfriends, then — for short stints, poorly chosen boyfriends.

And so she had adopted two cats from the RSPCA.

Ariel and Caliban, from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, making her cranky old Prospero, the Conjurer of cats.

Just as she had been ready to embark on a life of being a forever-single cat nana, the vet had told her that she couldn’t take the kittens home for another month—not until they were weaned and desexed.

That had been the longest month of her life.

For the next two months, Gwen relived that special hell, hovering at the brink of her willpower as her Familiars tickled the inside of her brain, demanding to be let loose into the Material Plane.

It was only on the weekends, in the privacy of Surya's estate that she could free her inhibitions, allowing her marten and ophidian free rein.

With the help of an exceptionally nutritious diet, she tempered her body to sustain her Void Familiar. Even so, in combat, she could only keep Caliban empowered for two minutes before her vitality began to wane. Ariel, on the other hand, fed off her plentiful lightning and could be maintained for almost an hour.

Gwen figured that Caliban would only be truly effective in an area with a significant amount of consumable biomass, such as a monster's den. Speaking to her Master, she hypothesised that Caliban's strength lay in its minuscule mana cost and high vitality drain, which had to be offset.

"It's an extraordinary creature, I agree," her Master had remarked. “But, avoid using the Void until you grow stronger. Take measured steps. Don't run."

She promised to remain vigilant.

Episodic interruptions aside, the grind continued. Each morning, she jogged with Debora, herself becoming a notable Transmuter. Time had seemed to restore Debora to a sunny disposition, as well as reawakening her competitive streak. During one of their sessions, she once again implored Gwen to include her on the team, to which Gwen agreed to give her priority as their first choice.

Lessons with Alesia also persisted, fortifying a number of her tier II and III spells. Concurrently, Gunther and her Master taught Gwen new Conjuration spells in addition to Evocation staples.

Lightning Blade was a manifestation which allowed her to conjure a persistent blade of energy. It was suitable for close combat and possessed a paralytic effect. Gwen dubbed it “The Taser”.

Warding Bolt allowed her to create a floating energy sphere that persisted for several minutes, striking three times at any targets that came close. A particular quality of Lightning, Gwen noted, was that even defensive spells were overtly offensive, subscribing to the philosophy that the best defence was offence.

When Gwen had requested non-lethal spells, Master Henry had sent over two scrolls for debilitating manifests—Blinding bolt, which caused optic damage, and Thunderclap, which caused the enemy to be deafened and disorientated. Upon receiving the spells, Gwen saw no reason why they should be separate in the first place. After all, stun grenades existed in her old world. She made the idea known to Alesia, and the two worked to create an original spell that, though lacking damage, could blind, deafen and disorientate simultaneously. Additionally, thanks to her Conjuration and Evocation, she could cast the spell in a persistent, globular variation or directly as an explosion.

Not one for originality, Gwen named it “Flashbang”.

The most interesting of her new spells was a persistent target spell in the form of a cloud called Call Lightning that randomly discharged Lightning Bolts at irregular intervals. Gwen gushed when she realised it worked wonders with Guiding Bolt and Ariel’s static needles.

Thursday nights were spent with Gunther.

During one such training session, she discovered that though Gunther's Radiant Shield was a molecule-thin film of light, it somehow blocked all her best spells. When queried, he smirked and told her to work on basic Abjuration, scoffing at Gwen's dismay when she parroted that only Abjurers could engender real Shields.

"Never underestimate the power of hard work," he wisely intoned. He then proudly introduced Gwen to the concept of Single Spell Mastery. “There are many ways in which a Mage builds on their spell list, the most arduous of which is absolute mastery over a single low-tier invocation."

“How would that help?” Gwen asked quizzically. “That seems counterproductive. Why not train for higher tiers?”

“Not all Mages can reach higher tiers in multiple schools like you and me.” Gunther shook his head at her naivety. “A Mage's power is bottlenecked by talent, by affinity and by access to resources. For example, Gwen, how many crystals did you use in the last half a year?”

Gwen did the maths. "About fourteen hundred LDM crystals and one hundred HDM crystals?"

"Yes, and that's excluding your tuition fees, your special diet, the magic items that were used to train you, and the ensorcelled training grounds. You've spent close to five hundred HDMs just at school, Gwen. How much did you say your father made?"

“A thousand a year, give or take."

"You see my point?"

"I see your point, Gunther," she mumbled guiltily.

"This is why mundane Mages may only focus on low-tier spells. However, they can become hyper-proficient in the casting of say, the basic Magic Missile, so that from simplicity comes spectacle. Some magic can be so ingrained within a Mage's mind that they may invoke it in a fraction of the time. It may be more potent, it could cost far less mana, all independent of the Mage's initial School of Magic. A sterling example would be Flight, a staple necessity for all Combat Mages."

Gwen nodded demurely.

"Personally, my Shield spell is the result of two decades of training. For Quasi-Elementalists like us, poor defence is a huge weakness. But…”

Gunther asked Gwen to come closer. When she was almost touching his chest, he summoned a semi-dome Shield which enveloped both of them. “Feel it," he suggested. "Tell me what you think."

For a mischievous moment, Gwen pondered the inappropriateness of giving Gunther's washboard abdominals a cop. Thankfully, decades of sexual harassment training dissuaded her from her hormonal impulse.

Gingerly, she reached out and felt Gunther's Shield barrier. To her surprise, it had the texture of cornstarch. “These are motes of pure mana!” she exclaimed. “You're using a double-layered shield with pure mana wedged in between?"

“Give it a punch.” Gunther grinned.

Gwen punched the barrier and felt the plasticity instantly grow rigid. A non-Newtonian fluid? She was in shock. Could physics apply to mana? It seemed to her that magic was magical because the conjured elements appeared to override earthly laws of physics. How else could she summon electricity without a dynamo or Yue conjure fire without friction or a source of fuel?

“My Shield is a Signature Spell,” Gunther informed her conspiratorially, amused by her awe.

But Gwen was awed for the wrong reasons. She understood that where a normal Mage had a relatively equal volume of mana dispersed within a single Shield, Gunther had motes of pure mana manifested as fine particles within a parallel membrane. When an external force struck the voluminous fluid, it compressed the space between the motes, hardening the Shield while consuming the attack's kinetic and elemental energy.

“Incredible.” Gwen discerned that perhaps she was similarly capable of using this method. Though it was beyond her ken to create a double walled Shield, the theory was sound.

“I bet that I can penetrate your Shield.” She turned to Gunther mischievously. “What do I get if I succeed?”

“Ho? Bluster and arrogance; how Alesia of you!” Gunther lifted one corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin. "Name your price."

"If I can penetrate," Gwen coughed, "your Shield, you have to teach it to me."

“I've never sold the spell's secret, not even to the Tower, for CCs, HDMs or favours.” Gunther grinned. "But you've piqued my interest."

She took a stance. "Lightning Blade!" Resembling a push-dagger, a hovering mass of cobalt lightning crackled above her wrist. “Promise not to move?”

“You have my word.”

SPAK!

Gwen slashed the katara over Gunther's Shield, watching the mana congeal, the white line healing in a matter of seconds.

Gunther smirked.

“Not going to move at all?”

“Not at all.”

"No backsies."

For her second attempt, she slowly pushed the dagger against the surface of the Shield, watching the surface sizzle. Slowly, the hardened particles of compressed mana dispersed, becoming viscose as Gwen pushed ever so gently inwards.

Just the tip. She bit back an immature smile as her blade penetrated her brother-in-craft's pride.

Gunther baulked as the blade slid slowly through his Shield, millimetre by millimetre, surely and steadily.

“Impossible!” His steady voice rose an octave. “How did you know? Did Master tell you?”

Mages were an inherently secretive bunch. It was especially bad form for a Master to tell one apprentice the secret of another.

“Oh, it's not hard to figure out.” Gwen dispersed her conjured blade.

Gunther regarded her with renewed respect. “You win.” He placed both hands against his hip. "Got time for the Cog? Copying my Astral projection will drastically reduce the time it takes to learn Secondary Spells.”

Following Gwen’s footsteps, Yue and Elvia likewise reached their intended milestones. For Yue, it was the matter of her Apprenticeship under Alesia, meaning all that was left was for Yue to finish high school.

“I wonder what that means for my Military Service?” Yue pondered aloud. “Do I serve with Alesia? does she have a unit? Maybe it's a special unit. Do you think I'll be in the Special Air Service?”

Yue’s fantasies aside, Gwen had no idea. She would have to ask her sister-in-craft.

Sadly, Elvia’s attainment of higher-tier magic meant she would begin classes for Advanced Restoration, Combat Triage and Internal Medicine. Where Gwen and Yue’s instructions involved extensive knowledge of Magical Creatures and how to take them apart, Elvia specialised in putting Mages like her friends back in one piece.

“We’ll be together again come next year!” Elvia promised when Gwen lamented the separation. “We have to team up for the final exam in June, after all. I’ll be sure to have more buffs and blessings in my repertoire!”

Even holding Elvia in her arms, Gwen couldn’t help but sigh, wishing that time would slow so that these halcyon days could last just a little longer.

"Gwen, it's time for you to gain some practical experience," her Master informed her one morning.

"Yes, Master." Gwen bowed her head.

She wasn't sure if she looked forward to or dreaded the prospect of employing her spells in the real world. Socking Sufina's puppets was one thing. Tasering a real person? Nailing a guy with Lightning Bolt? Her only solace was the prevalence of healing magic that made most injuries survivable.

Regardless, the day of promise was upon her. The academic year ended, and students left the school for extracurricular programs suited to their specialities. Elvia would be away with her uncle. Yue had training with Alesia, and even Debora had told Gwen that her family had arranged her to work part-time with a famous Transmuter Magus. As for Gwen, she had informed the others that she had part-time work, which was technically not a lie.

First thing in the morning, her opa called, informing her that all had been arranged and that Mark “Mac” Chandler, proprietor of the Black Cat Agency, would be expecting her.

“Dress in your Sunday best,” Surya advised her. “That's what Mark requested, anyway. He's a good bloke and you can trust him. Otherwise, I'll personally punch his lights out."

Oh yeah, Gwen recalled. Mark was another one of their old mates. Out of curiosity, she asked her opa if there was an old codger’s club where all his war buddies congregated, maybe an RSL which they frequented.

Surya's sobering response was that there wasn’t enough of them left. “Terrible time, that was.” His voice grew forlorn. “You kids don't know how good you have it with your updated Spellcraft metrics. Back then, our spells were horse piss, the enemy outnumbered us, and anti-magical beasts training was non-existent. Guerrilla warfare was a shit show. The life expectancy for a flight of Mages landing in the North Queensland jungle was about fifteen minutes. If you survived that, then you had until nightfall.”

"Jesus," Gwen mouthed. "Sorry."

“You’ve got Mac to thank for me being here, he and Henry and…" Surya cleared his throat. "Mark saved our arses plenty of times with his array of Arcane Eye, Detect Invisibility and Telepathic Bond. When you meet him, be polite, listen to what he says and don't piss him off.”

Sensing her opa's worry, Gwen was keen to make a good impression.

Feeling speculative, she picked through her other wardrobe and produced a navy button-up one-piece dress that taped around her torso and ended above her knees. The weather warmed as summer came, so she forwent the stockings and matched the dress with her Mary Janes. For a formal touch, she carefully combed her hair until it fell neatly over her shoulders, then applied a light touch of gloss, liner and mascara.

The result was a prim young lady who wouldn't look out of place at Melbourne Cup luncheon.

With an address in hand, she made the journey to Surry Hills by public transport. Her destination was not too far from the transit station, where she walked the rest of the way, enjoying the brisk Sunday air.

Her destination was an old sandstone building that looked ancient and archaic. It was a terrace, a converted working-class home now among some of the most expensive properties in Sydney. The building had a lovely red door set against intricate ironworks. The wrought signage showed a black cat.

She pressed the buzzer and was surprised to hear a husky, whiskey voice asking who she was.

“I am Gwen.” she smiled at the glassy scrying crystal atop the door. “You are expecting me, I believe.”

The door opened, and she was momentarily stunned by the scent of heavy perfume assaulting her nostrils. A heavily made-up blonde woman wearing audacious lingerie stared her down.

Gwen blushed, catching a wayward nip-slip. The woman, whom Gwen dubbed “the Madam”, looked upon her with a critical eye. “Ain'tcha a little young for this line of work?”

It took Gwen another agonising few seconds to realise her mistake. The red door, the barred windows, the perfume, the exposed nip. Damn those old codgers, where the hell had they sent her?

“May I enquire as to the address of this Black Cat Cafe?” Gwen forced a smile to her lips. It wasn't that she looked down on ladies of the night, it was that right now, it was noon. “I may have mistaken the address.”

The woman grinned with too-wide and too-red lips, producing a card from her cleavage.

Black Cat Bordello, the card read, for your pleasure.

From within the corridor, Gwen could see other women in similar states of undress.

“Right.” Gwen moved back stiffly. “I have the wrong address.”

“You’d better have.” The madam laughed in that croaky voice of hers. “You working here would shut us down in a heartbeat!”

Gwen turned to leave, but the Madam caught her arm. “You’re not entirely in the wrong place.” She chuckled. “The place you’re looking for is two doors down, look for the print ‘Black Cat’, not the animal.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna be working for Mark?” The madam asked curiously.

“Yes ma’am,” Gwen said carefully.

“Well then, we’ll be seeing each other.”

“Thank you,” Gwen replied cooly, her friendly mien juxtaposing her scarlet face. Let's hope we don’t see each another again, Gwen thought to herself. At any rate, she had been the idiot. To think she had mistaken the picture for the address.

Two doors down, she found the right door—a white one this time, set into a sandstone facade. The frontage was a wild growth of neglected native shrubbery, within which may have been a set of tables and chairs some years ago. The paint was peeling a little from the door and flakes of it fell when she knocked.

Doesn't look like its open. Gwen felt puzzled by the dilapidation. Was Mark's operation on hiatus?

“Come in, it's open,” a distant voice called from the second floor.

She turned the knob and felt the accumulated oxidisation groan.

When the door finally opened, she entered a private museum. Or at least, a place that had the look and feel of a museum. Hundreds of items, small and large, hung on the walls. The collection consisted of bits and pieces of magical beasts, feathers, claws, patches of skin, and what looked like a desiccated paw. Other collectables were anthropological, such as painted tribal masks, spearheads, the pommel of a sword. Glass cabinets lined the corridor, filled with trophies, scraps of documents, pieces of minerals and what looked to be fragmented mana stones.

“Up here!” a voice called out. Gwen noted that, amongst the chaotic details of the terrace's interior, there was a set of stairs which led upwards.

To her surprise, the claustrophobia prominent on the ground floor opened into an attic office that formed a spacious living room. The decor was strictly academic, reminding Gwen of an Oxford study. A skylight, working in conjunction with twin bay windows, lit the room with a gentle ambience, revealing an ancient table in the middle of the room, inundated by a scattered bric-a-brac of pens, inks and bottles. In Gwen's measured eye, the impressive collection could only belong to Dr Indiana “Mac” Jones.

With a shuddering gasp, notebooks parted to reveal a gaunt-faced old gent with a frighteningly high domed skull. Mark “Mac” Chandler wore gold-rimmed spectacles with an intellectual air, plagued by a receding hairline. His eyes, two dark obsidian orbs, appraised her as she approached.

"So you are Gwen Song.” He spoke with a voice that rose and fell like listing timber, clear and pronounced, each syllable bitten with absolute precision. "Welcome to the Black Cat."

Gwen bowed, feeling that a man of this calibre and seniority would prefer austerity over frivolity.

"You're probably wondering, 'what cafe?'" He smiled with thin, pursed lips.

Gwen nodded. The only sign that this place may have been a cafe was the overgrown garden and the sets of cafe tables and chairs.

"It is a long story. Perhaps I will tell it once we're acquainted."

"Of course, sir."

Gwen stood before Mark like a young trooper at attention.

"So Henry tells me that you not only abide by his beloved Credo but understand it better than our Faction's veterans."

"It was a moment of inspiration, nothing more." Gwen dropped the “sir” to see if that could ease the formality between them. When Mark's eyes caught the light, she noticed a pale white tinge. Was the man using Divination on her?

"I see. Henry also tells me that you are the recipient of an incredibly rare and unusual talent—not one, but two Schools of Magic. Moreover, you're blessed by both Lightning and Void. Is that correct?"

"That's correct."

"Good. Care to answer a few questions for me, Gwen?"

"Of course."

"What do you think of the lesser evil?"

"The lesser evil?"

"Indeed." Mark persisted in the unexpected tangent. "There lie two choices ahead of you in a moment of crisis. It is the eleventh hour. To defeat a powerful enemy, you must sacrifice a companion Mage. To fail is the greater evil, for behind you lie ten thousand Non-Magical civilians, many of which may yet awaken to become your peers. But only by sacrificing a dear friend can others be saved. What is the right choice?"

What a curious question, Gwen pondered. Was this a test? Is he testing to see if I am a classist?

"Would you like the answer to what I ought to do or what I would do, sir?"

Mark raised an eyebrow in surprise. "No hesitation and two answers already?" He seemed pleased by her spontaneous response. "Go on."

Gwen took a deep breath. "In a dilemma, one must consider the utility of one's actions. Would my companion Mage possess more utility than ten thousand NoMs? If the answer is yes, then I would save the Mage. If the answer is no, then his or her sacrifice is not in vain. If there are no definite means of measuring that utility, then the moment is beyond right or wrong. Either action is acceptable."

Mark considered her answer. "How cold-blooded. How astute. And what of your second answer?"

"May I speak frankly?"

"Of course."

Gwen thought of Yue and Elvia, then summoned up the courage to speak her heart. "To err is to be human. In the eleventh hour, I do not believe I would be capable of giving a shit about right and wrong. At that moment, I would gladly take on the burden of ten thousand dead to save my friend. I am not a saint, sir, and doubt I would ever be. All that I can ask for is to be understood and mayhap, forgiven."

Mark gave an unexpected start, moving rigidly for a moment before he began to chuckle, his laughter resonating across the chamber. "You are certainly not one of Henry’s Paladins." He stood from the chair. Gwen noticed that he was the tallest man she had seen yet. He was almost two metres, stick thin and elongated, an austere man dressed in a dark vest against an ivory shirt.

"Tell me, Gwen, do you truly believe in the Credo? Be honest with me."

"I believe it, truly." Gwen brought a smile to her face. "But not to the exclusion of all else."

"A fair answer." Mark appeared to consider her words. He then extended a hand. "I am beginning to like you, Gwen Song."

"Thank you. You're rather interesting yourself. Mr Chandler."

They shook, his fingers long and skeletal, so long they swallowed her hand.

“I wonder what manner of life you must have lived to possess such wisdom at the age of sixteen,” he remarked quizzically.

Gwen began to sweat.

"Not that it’s any of my business. You're Henry's ward and so you are mine also by proxy. Come, I have tasks for you."

He walked over to a side table and pulled out a chair. "This will be your workstation. After a mission, you shall provide a written report. I believe you are proficient in this?"

"More than proficient."

"Good. Now take a seat and I will explain."

Gwen walked over to her new table. Obediently, she sat.

There was already a file on her table—a dossier that looked like a classified document. A Quest! Gwen's heart pounded. What could it be? Monster subjugation? Recover an item? Defend a particular location? Was she working with a group or solo? She had learnt about all of this in one of her classes.

A point of difference between this world and hers was that those with talent and the tolerance for risk could always find gainful employment in resolving the one thousand and one problems caused by the chaotic flux of energies. Her new home was a place where boogymen were real. Here, destruction stood over men’s shoulders day and night, where within the woods, monsters had marauded since time immemorial. The Wildland was the devil's preserve; the Frontier, humanity's last stand. From within the Shield Barrier, the affirming flame of civilisation kept eradication and enslavement at bay.

Therefore, for necessity, adventure and profit, men and women practised Spellcraft. And Gwen, only sixteen, was readying herself to join the ranks of those fine Mages seeking to make the world a better place.

She opened the dossier and scanned through the brief. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Was this a joke? "An escort quest?" She stared at Mark in horror. "I have to escort an Escort?!"

Chapter forty-one

The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep

“Read through it carefully,” Mark advised. “How you wish to execute the mission is also the purpose of our exercise.”

Gwen read through the document with a pace which surprised Mark, then read through it again as insurance. As she had noted prior, the quest involved escorting a young woman from Blackheath to Surry Hills.

“Why would a NoM Escort need a Mage to accompany her?” Gwen enquired, confused by the context even after reading the document twice.

“Mmhmm.” Mark made a sound that that was both amusement and impatience. “Do you know where Blackheath is?”

“I know it’s within city limits.”

“And yet, you have never travelled beyond the inner west, correct?”

"No." The Diviner was correct.

“Have you ever been to a suburb with NoMs, and I mean only NoMs?”

Gwen pondered Mark's sardonic inquiry, realising that no, she had indeed never trespassed a suburb exclusively inhabited by NoMs. “No.”

“What kind of place do you imagine it to be?”

Gwen had no answer for Mark's enquiry. A slum, perhaps? She had seen the poverty-stricken ghettos of Sydney in her old world. There were hobos sleeping in parks and the occasional guy smoking crack by the alleyway. But it wasn't that dangerous.

She shook her head.

“So there you have it. That is why you are chosen specifically for this simple task.”

“Specifically?” Gwen raised an eyebrow.

“Of course, tailor-made to your specifications." Mark Chandler chuckled, his demeanour choric and morose. "Henry specifically asked me to have you thrown into the lion’s den, although in all honesty, it's more of a rat den. But you get the idea.”

“Is the girl special in some way?” Gwen pursued the matter. She couldn't understand why anyone would spend upward of two hundred HDMs to recover a young prostitute. Was there a conspiracy of some sort? Was she a femme fatale with dire information?

“All life is special,” Mark replied evasively. “But I have spoken too much. You are meant to be speaking to the employer yourself, not to me. It's your quest. If you don't wish to take it, go home to Henry. He'll find a spot from you in a Tower Kill Team, I am sure.”

He pointed to another envelope on her desk. “Your licence.”

Gwen popped the yellow envelope, and inside was an ID made from the same trans-fab material as her student card.

Gwen Song

Conjurer (2)

Evocation (3)

Lightning (3)

Age:: 16

Achievements:: [N/A]

Sponsor [Mark C. Surya H.]

Agency:: Black Cat

“That card allows you to perform minor magical feats within city limits—a provisional public practice of magic licence."

There was also a pamphlet regarding the licence, as well as a contract.

“Read through these carefully. If you are fine with it, then sign here and here.”

Gwen chewed through the heavy-handed legal documents. She glanced at Mark, feeling a detached suspicion engender in her chest. A licence for her to attack others? They weren't expecting her to kill or maim people, were they? “Did Alesia have a similar experience?”

“Your sister-in-craft was sent strictly on away-missions far from human civilisation.”

“Right." Gwen tempered her paranoia. If Mark knew about the Apprenticeship, it was self-evident that her Master trusted the Diviner. The whole thing was a test; if she went about zapping people and burning down their houses, it wasn’t a good look for her proclamation of noblesse oblige.

She read through the documents again. “Says here, that I am allowed to use deadly force to defend myself within the city limits. Am I to anticipate that someone will be using deadly force against me? In the city?”

“That’s a clause the Tower has negotiated with the Frontier government. If indeed a NoM or a Rogue Mage threatened your life, you could hardly be expected to use your weakest spells."

“Doesn't that seem a little excessive?” Gwen couldn't help but wonder at the odds someone would threaten her life on this quest.

“It’s not a perfect system. See there, how I am your sponsor?”

“Go on.”

“I am personally held accountable for your choices. If your actions turn out to be criminal offences, it is my job to cooperate with the police to take you in.”

Gwen held the card between her fingers. It felt more substantial than her student card. Denser. “I take it the card also tracks my location?”

“It also tracks significant magical activity,” Mark added. “But nothing detailed or substantial. We're only a Frontier city, after all. Sydney isn't London.”

“I see.” Gwen was no longer surprised that her privacy had been fed to the dogs. Her Master was tracking her, the school was tracking her, God knows who else was tracking her.

She signed the documents, watching the parchments disappear into Mark’s Ring.

“Well, I better get to work then.” She stood from the chair and eased down her dress. “I suppose the madam is expecting me. Say, is there a story behind the fact that both the bordello and the cafe share the same name?”

“There’s a long story behind that,” Mark replied distantly. “You see, I would tell it one day, but…”

“Maybe when we're acquainted. I read you loud and clear. Can I consult you if I have any questions?”

“Of course. I am your guide and mentor after all, here is my Message Glyph. Do you know how to use Message yet?”

“Not without a Device, no.”

“I’ll teach you someday… if you make it through this one.”

“Thanks, I’ll be going then.”

Gwen knocked on the very same door she had left two hours before.

“Welcome back.” The same madam opened the door with that big red smile of hers. “Dame Agnes Kitson.”

“Gwen Song,” Gwen replied. “Are you the client?”

“I am paying, but no, I am not the client. Come,” The Madam ushered her in. “Your client is in my office. She’s worried sick from waiting. Mark said you'd be here earlier.”

“Sorry, the red tape took a while," Gwen apologised. "I am here now.”

They went through the corridor. Inside, the decor was modelled after a decadent period of French history, classy, despite the nature of its business. Within, she drew curious glances from women in various states of undress. Gwen praised her timing: it was noon, and the place would not be taking customers until much later. Instead, they were having tea and coffee and watching vid-casts in the common room.

At the back of the double terrace, the duo reached what looked to be the madam’s office, a converted master-bedder. Inside, the madam introduced Gwen to a young woman.

“Sal, this is Gwen. Gwen, Sally Cantwell.”

Her client had auburn hair that fell around her neck in ringlets, sporting a girl-next-door vibe that Gwen knew to be particularly popular with certain kinds of men. By that same measure, though Gwen herself was uncommonly svelte, men often found her intimidating.

To Gwen's surprise, Sally made the supplicating gesture of holding her fingers with two hands. “Mistress Mage, I am so glad you could help us,” Sally begged with her head lowered.

“Please, just Gwen.” The sycophantic manner of Sally's plea made her skin crawl.

Sally looked to Agnes for guidance; the latter nodded once. “Miss Song, Gwen, thanks for coming, I—I… er…“

Agnes patted the poor girl with a jewel-encrusted hand. “The NoMs from areas beyond zone fifteen don’t get to speak to many Mages, much less Quasi-Elementalist elites,” she explained patiently. "They get spooked easily."

What about you? Gwen wanted to ask. Agnes looked like she could do some damage.

“Sal, calm yourself. Gwen is an affable young lady. You can speak to her as if you were speaking to me. She won't hurt you or try to take advantage of you.”

“A-alright.” Sally caught her breath. “Hi.”

“Nice to meet you, Sal.” Gwen appropriated the nickname, hoping it would put the girl at ease. “Tell me about your sister, Stacey.”

Sally retold them what Gwen already gathered from the dossier. The sisters were from a poor District known as Blackheath—a place inhabited by working and underclass NoMs. The girls had a troublesome, abusive family which made them leave school and home prematurely. They found work here and there, eventually finding their way to Agnes’ place.

The madam treated them well, gave them a place to stay, and things had been dandy for about half a year. Unlike Sally, Stacey had a soft spot for their family back in Blackheath, returning with gifts of money and foodstuffs fortnightly.

Just a week ago, Sally and her sister had had the opportunity to be tested for affinity thanks to a curious client. To their surprise, Stacey registered as an Illusionist with an affinity for Water. Awakenings later in life were rare but seldom significant, so Agnes had thought nothing of it. But when Stacey had returned to Blackheath for the weekend, she had evaporated.

“She didn’t leave a Message or anything?” Gwen asked incredulously.

Sally stared at Gwen blankly.

Agnes coughed gently to upset the awkward silence. “NoMs can’t use Message spells, not even on Devices. They can’t produce mana,” she said softly, instructing Gwen’s ignorance with a tone that was now less than pleased. “They could do it if they had access to mana crystals, of course, but alas…”

Alas, Gwen nodded awkwardly.

“Do you know if Stacey is safe?” She pivoted back to the mission, knowing she had appeared out of touch.

Agnes tapped her ears, where there was a large ruby earring. Gwen noted that Sally also had one, though hers was far less expensive-looking and far subtler.

“I had Mark run an Augury, so we know where she is. I had the device designed so that if the girls are hurt, really hurt, I would know. She’s still wearing the earring, which means she’s at least unharmed.”

“So this would be a rescue and escort request then?”

“I sure hope not.” Agnes made a face, her red lips pressing together tightly. “I don’t know why Stacey can’t come home by herself, but your job is to bring her home. How hard can it be to convince a dozen NoMs to leave a girl alone?”

“Do you think they could be holding her because she awakened as a Mage?” Gwen asked Sally.

Sally moved her head in a way that was neither a confirmation or a denial. “People back home dislike like Mages,” she muttered incoherently, afraid to insult Gwen. “So maybe that's why? I don’t know. I hope they don’t hurt her.”

“She’s safe dear.” Agnes pattered Sally’s hand, tapping her ruby earring. “I know. Trust me.”

Man, this is messed up. Gwen organised the scenario a few times in her head, running the narrative through her mind. From the sounds of it, she needed to enter a slum where people were going to be hostile, keep the NoMs at bay, find the girl, then return with her to the Black Cat Bordello.

“Well, can ya do it?” Agnes demanded, growing a little annoyed at Gwen’s hesitation. “The clock is ticking.”

“Yes, I’ll accept the quest,” Gwen replied solemnly. It wasn’t as though she could refuse. The whole thing was a test to see if she could handle going out into the real world.

The women shook to seal the deal, after which Agnes expelled Sally from the room. “Gwen, Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Gwen nodded.

“So, Gwen Song.” Agnes smiled broadly. “You’re all over the grapevine these days.”

Gwen smiled innocently.

“You’re Henry’s… protégé and Surya’s granddaughter, right?” Agnes grinned with mischief, an expression unbecoming on an older woman.

“Oh, how are you acquainted with Magister Kilroy and Magus Huang, Ms… Mrs Kitson?” Gwen ventured a question of her own. Was this woman a member of the Codger’s Club?

“You can call me Kitty.” Agnes chuckled. “That’s what the boys call me.”

“May I call you Agnes instead?” Gwen insisted. She'd rather not call Agnes by her pet name.

“Just Agnes, then.” Agnes shrugged. “Gwen, I wanted to ask you something, then you can be off.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Agnes stalked around her in a circle. Casually, she brushed a hand past the hem of her skirt, sending the fabric riding up her pale legs. Gwen yelped, then glared at Agnes peevishly, questioning her uninvited harassment. If Agnes had been a man, she probably would have slapped or zapped her.

“So, not much experience with boys? Don't go out much?”

"..." Gwen stared, forcing herself to remain polite. The hell was wrong with this woman? “Not that it’s any business of yours. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Well…” Agnes cocked her head. She pointed to Gwen's dress. "Did Mark put you up to this?"

“What do you mean?” Gwen furrowed her brows. What was wrong with her dress? It wasn’t as though she was going deep into Abu Dhabi and had to wear a hijab. Blackheath was two hours away from the CBD! Even if she wore the minidress into the Wildlands, it would only be a minor inconvenience. Was there a dress code for working as a mercenary?

Agnes caught Gwen's prickly annoyance with a scowl of her own. “It’s nothing. I was just worried about your shoes. They look mighty uncomfortable for walking long distances.”

The matron chose to say nothing. In her mind, Mark could do no wrong and Henry couldn't be wrong if he tried. The quest was Henry's pupil's baptism of fire, designed to teach her that real life followed no instruction manuals. The girl would emerge from her trial stronger and wiser, as per Henry's purpose, or she would fail and return to the crucible.

“Good luck." Agnes slapped Gwen on the bottom, pushed her from the room, then closed the door.

What a rude woman. Gwen gave her smarting bum a gentle caress. From the woman's overly familiar tone, she certainly fitted into the Old Codger's Club.

Once she exited the bordello, Gwen made for Redfern. Blackheath station was within walking distance of Cantwell's divined location. As for Blackheath itself, she knew the suburb only in name. It belonged to a part of Sydney strange and unknown to her.

But her greatest fear was becoming lost.

Gwen knew her orienteering was sub-par. That was the problem with this world—no Google Maps, no Tripadvisor, no satellite imaging. For all the bluster of Mages moving mountains and boiling the seas, she couldn't so much as access a pin pointing her in the right direction.

All she possessed was a map provided by Mark Chandler and an address—Rogan Crescent, Blackheath—G6: D23. A physical map! Gwen grimaced. The last time she had touched one was in junior geography. The process was so primitive that she got lost trying to find north.

Nonetheless, she played out the scenario in her head. Ideally, she entered what she assumes to be a house—a single abode, a shack. She would demand from the occupants the whereabouts of Stacey Cantwell. She would recover the girl, ideally safe and sound, then take her back to the Black Cat, firing off a few spells to frighten the NoMs who may try to stop her, or at worst, unleashing her Familiars.

She was ready. She felt ready. The mission was a test as well as a quest, judging from Mark's evasiveness.

With her mind still running analytics, Gwen took the seventh line toward Greater Western Sydney, one of the largest NoM regions within the Frontier city. Station after station, passengers boarded and alighted, mostly Mages and NoMs with useful professions.

Once she was past the City Circle, the number of individuals in their Sunday best changed to that of working class outfits. After Strathfield, the Mages thinned out, and NoMs began to inundate the carriage. Past Granville, these men and women too alighted, leaving her alone with a few unsavoury-looking figures who lounged here and there in the abandoned carriage.

She pulled out her Message Device. A simple display read 15:44. The sun outside boiled, blasting the cracking pavements. During Sydney's summer, the sun set after eight pm.

As her destination drew closer, Gwen found that her heart began to race, matching the crashing undercarriage as it pounded the rails. The further she travelled, the more persistently the suburban scape dissolved. The scenery outside changed from that of suburban houses to cramped apartments, and now they were quickly growing denser, becoming more compact.

Bing Bong. "Next stop, Seven Mills. The service will terminate in Blackheath. This service will terminate in Blackheath."

Outside the carraige, the sky contracted while temporary buildings expanded. They were at Seven Mills now, only the landscape was nothing like the Outer West she had known.

The station wasn't under cover, yet it felt as though she was underground. Arching her neck to see, she saw that an outbreak of haphazard construction had taken over the station, jutting here and there like architectural cancer.

'This train terminates next stop.'

As the train began to move again, plunging deep into the slums, Gwen realised her terrible naivety.

This Blackheath was not the Blackheath she had known. It was not dilapidated houses and working-class men languishingly in front of beat-up Holden Commodores. It was not scantily clad women with too much make up getting catcalled by youths wearing popped collars. It wasn't even dodgy-looking migrant men and bummed out Aborigines napping on the sidewalks with their dogs.

It was a city unto itself—a municipality of NoMs, a township built without the help of Transmuters fabricators, without the conjured pylons or the reinforced magic of the Abjurers. It was a suburb carved out by hapless NoMs eking out a living at the edge of the Mages' city from scraps and leftovers. Above and below, skeletal houses cannibalising their neighbours for parts.

With a dying screech, the train pulled into Blackheath. Although Gwen knew her mission, he was no longer sure of what to do. How was she going to find this address in a place like this? The damn suburb expanded as much horizontally as it did vertically!

From the shelter of her carriage, she could see some NoMs milling about outside the platform. Some of them appeared to be vagabonds—old men living under stitched pieces of sheeting. Elsewhere, more threateningly, were wayward-looking young men who had assembled under an abandoned bus shelter, surrounded by a ring of acrid-looking smoke. A woman stood under a doorway, backed against a wall by a gruff man drinking from a brown bag. There was a scene of money been exchanged, then they both disappeared. Not far away, a dog sauntered through the thoroughfare. One of the young men threw a bottle. It missed, the dog fled, and his friends roared with cankerous laughter.

Still petrified like a Greco statue, Gwen considered her options. She looked outside at the walls that shielded the rails and saw an articulate and aesthetically pleasing graffiti tag.

Fuck Mage$, it elegantly read.

She was confident that the other one said something to the tune of—$$ape B$tches.

Part of the script was covered by additional graffiti. Sufficient to say, the line did not read “Grape Britches”.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, she moaned. How far up shit creek was she? Maybe she could do this tomorrow? She could come back wearing daggy sportswear.

That fucking Agnes, Gwen realised. She knew, she fucking knew. “These boots ain't made for walking”, my arse.

She pondered her next course of action. Her train service had terminated. Either way, she had to leave the train to catch another train out of Blackheath. She had to find Stacey and do her duty. She had to do this.

As the Goddess of Victory used to say, Fuck it. Just do it.

Gwen took a few seconds to pump herself up. There was no turning back. She couldn’t return to Mark in disgrace. What would be her excuse? Mark, I was frightened by poor people? What would her Master think? What would Opa think?

With renewed confidence, she moved toward the exit. As she stood, a few remaining passengers followed, moving to block the doors.

FUCK.

She looked up, meeting the eyes of a lanky looking fellow in workman's overalls. With a pounding heart, she turned and saw another man, older and uglier, blocking the back exit. A third man was making his way towards her. This one was taller with a beer belly that hung over too-tight jeans.

Instinctively, she pulled on her dress, forcing the hem down another inch. She backed away sideways, wedged between two seats in the midst of the carriage. Whatever she chose to do, she preferred not to be sucker-punched by a sneak attack.

"G'day, young lady." The man tipped his invisible hat mockingly.

His eyes licked Gwen like a tongue, measuring her all over. The other two sniggered.

"I was wondering," the man said piously. "If you might have some crystals to spare me and me mates?"

Crystals? Gwen could see the man's stained teeth and already felt sickened. She backed away a little more, almost pressing herself against the glass, but that seemed only to excite her assailants.

Test number one? she wondered. Could she get herself out of this dilemma without three smoking corpses?

"And if I do?" Gwen tested the waters, unsure where she was going.

"Why, then we would leave ya well alone."

The other two persisted in their ogling.

It's just a few crystals.

Gwen caught herself. No. Giving the men crystals was not a solution to her problem. It was an invitation.

She swallowed nervously. Ariel, get ready, she commanded her Familiar. Her marten had been feeding off her Empathic Link. Slowly, she sensed the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. "Fine. If you let me get through the door, I'll give you something."

The man nodded smugly, then motioned to his two companions.

They watched as she moved outwards carefully, ensuring that none of them stood behind her. The men hungrily eyed her bare legs, white and smooth, juxtaposing the oily sheen of their scabby skin. The trio followed her confidently as she made for the sliding door.

When she arrived at the threshold, Gwen paused. "Here's the smallest change I have on me." She materialised a crystal shard. It resembled a mana crystal, but within was the churning, volatile mana of a Flashbang spell. She tossed it towards her would be assailants. The men watched it sail through the air, clinking and falling onto the floor of the train.

She ran as the men greedily groped for the crystal, their friendship instantly dissolved by potential profit. Behind her, the automatic doors slid to a close.

Sprinting at a dead bolt, Gwen covered her ears as the carriage erupted in sound and light.

Chapter forty-two

Miles to go Before She Sleeps

The click-a-clack of her Mary Janes may as well have been rolling thunder as Gwen riverdanced down the concrete pavement. For about ten metres, she considered going the rest of the way barefoot, though the sight of shattered glass killed that prospect outright.

On the next platform, restless passengers began to gather around the light and noise emitting violently from the terminated carriage.

Thankfully, she made it to the escalator extending upward toward the street level without incident. The automated stairs disregarded her presence when she clanked onto its metallic surface.

Nothing. It was unpowered. Some sod had probably dug out the mana crystal or disconnected the power.

Gwen groaned inwardly, then loudly clunked her way up and over the metal, making enough noise to mimic a theatrical troupe. When she finally emerged, two storeys worse for wear, she was already sweating profusely. There was something about the air. It was oppressive, low and moist, like the night before a thunderstorm.

The avenue that unfolded before Gwen was the streetscape she had seen earlier from the shelter of the carriage. Immediately, a stench violently violated her sense of smell. It was the tongue-tingling scent of age-old urine, a stinging synaesthesia of neglect and destitution so vivid that Gwen wondered if she should stun her face to numb its senses.

Gathering her wits, she surveyed her surroundings, finding a half-dozen homeless men peering at her from the shelter of their cardboard boxes. Their eyes met—the men's wide-open with disbelief, Gwen’s watery with the injurious odour of their wastewater.

A spark of electricity escaped her fingers.

She watched wordlessly as the men retreated into their boxes like hermit crabs. One of them even had a lid with a hand-scrawn “closed”. What? Her mind wandered unpleasantly. What activity had the man been open for?

Shaking herself from the stupor, she realised she had to keep moving.

Splat!

Half-a-metre later, she found herself inch deep in something. Not daring to look down, she persisted in moving forward.

It only took a hundred metres for her to be beset by her worst fear.

Where the hell is anything around here?

She had a general idea of where Stacey was, but there was no landmark, not even a street sign to show her the way. Perhaps she should ask one of the box people. That seemed like the best course of action. They appeared docile and likely wouldn't test her mettle.

Feeling confident, she gathered her courage, fortified her nose and walked toward one of the boxes. The one with the closed sign seemed as good as any other.

“Hey!” a voice called out.

Ah, here we go. Gwen cursed her presentiment. She had been expecting to be accosted, although not so soon.

She turned on her heels, placing herself between the box people and the gang. There were no walls to shield her back, so the box hermits would have to do. From their attire and age, she confirmed that these were very same ones who had attempted to glass the dog earlier.

These young ones were not like the old hermit men. She could read the countenance of their bodies; the manner in which they carried themselves. These men were bored. Bored and unemployed, and that made them stupid and dangerous.

“Oi, sweetheart!” One of the young men called out in a voice that made her jaw clench.

Let’s try to do this peacefully. Give that old charisma a workout, she told herself. Gwen knew she had panicked a little on the train when she had gotten crowded, but her mind was measured and calm now. It was amazing what she could acclimatise herself to, given sufficient time and crisis.

“Gents,” she answered coldly, standing her ground firmly with her legs slightly apart, her heels well planted in the mysterious gunk. Avoiding them would only incite them. What she needed to do was project that fucking with her was a terrible idea.

With that intent in mind, she circulated a mote of lightning mana through her body, lighting her irises with a pale, cobalt glow.

The leading lad, a skinny young man with a tattered, dirty white Tee and jeans, stopped himself cold. “Cor! You got some freaky eyes,” he replied, then again loudly to his friends. “Beautiful glowing electric eyes!”

This one's rather intuitive. Gwen was pleased. Maybe this won't go over so badly.

But if Gwen had expected the speaker's friends to be awed into withdrawing, she was disappointed. Rather than heeding their friend's warning, the rest of the gang congregated around her in a semicircle. After all, it wasn’t every day that a six-foot beauty in heels and couture walked through Blackheath. Be it curiosity or something more nefarious, their intentions mattered little to Gwen, for all she could see was a pack of fanned-out mongrels eyeing a stray cat.

“Oi, mates, she’s a Mage,” The acute one stated again before repeating himself. “A quasit Mage.”

To both Gwen and the young man's chagrin, his mates remained oblivious, far too enthralled by the prospect of mobbing the girl and having their fun.

Their obtuse reactions made her even more furious. couldn’t a girl chat up a hobo in peace? Had these dickheads taken their cue from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange?

Fighting her darker impulses, she remained determined to resolve this peacefully. After all, how far could she go if she had to drop a Flashbang every other block?

“Gents, I would move on.” Gwen attempted to stare them down. In her mind, she assumed the air of a dangerous, confident Mage. She didn't know that in their eyes, she was a defiant prey tugging on their testosterone.

When they still refused to move, she knew she had to escalate. She produced her ID, the one for the Public Practice of Magic, from her bag.

“Tower business,” she intoned coldly. “Remove yourselves from my sight.”

A few of them drew back.

One of the young men edged closer carefully and read the card. “Ha!” He suddenly hooted, “She’s only sixteen!”

“What the fuck, for real?”

“Ha ha ha.”

“What's this sheila think she's doing?”

“Who you think you trying ta scare?”

"A real schoolgirl?"

"Maybe she's from one of dem private academies, out here looking for thrills."

FUCK! Gwen screamed internally, almost snapping her card in half. Fuck, I am an idiot. A fucking imbecile. She might as well have pulled out her student card and warned them that rape was for losers.

Without warning, the young man nearest to her moved to grab her hand. Back-peddling, Gwen cursed under her breath, then allowed the electrified mana to infuse her body. A semicircle ring of electricity sprung up around her, forming a Semi-Dome Shield. She was using her Gunther Shield—a two-layered wedge of crackling Lightning with a cushion of raw mana particles in between. Her control was far weaker than the Radiant Magus, but it stopped low-tier projectiles just fine.

“Fuck! She's for reals!”

“Shit! She’s a Lightning Sorc—”

In the next moment, the men scattered like beaten dogs, fleeing from the vicinity and into the dark alleyways and byways that were formed by the chaotic architecture.

Around Gwen, the air hummed and sizzled with fresh ozone, her lightning crackling and whipping the air currents into a frenzy.

One lad remained—the astute one, nervously wringing his hands.

“What do you want?” Gwen demanded coldly.

The young man swallowed hard; Gwen could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do… do you need a tut?”

“What the hell is a tut?” Gwen's tone possessed an edge of frost. Was he offering her drugs at a time like this?

“Like a street guy, a guide. Like, maybe I could show you around.”

Oh? Gwen's face remained impassive. That sounded exactly like what she needed. Still, she had to be careful. It was all a part of her test.

“What makes you think I need a tut?” she asked. “I got business here. Mage business. What makes you think I want to be disturbed?”

“Right. Right.” The young man supplicated by lowering his profile. He looked like a skulking rat. “So, you know your way around here, do ya? Used to live in this neck of the woods?”

Gwen glared at him.

Their eyes met. She could sense the low cunning in his face. It wasn't malicious, but it was conniving and greedy, the look of a guy wanting to make a quick buck.

“So… can a guy show you around-like? Save you some bother? Just doing a good deed, right?”

Of course, the gangbanger was right.

With a snap of her will, the Shield around her waned, leaving only the smell of burning cardboard.

“Like, ya need to watch where ya shoving spells around ’ere," her self-imposed companion advised. "It's real dangerous for the common folk.”

Gwen glared at him.

“Juz saying, miss. Cuz you juz set Bub’s house on fire.”

Gwen spun around and saw that she had indeed set alight one of the old men’s cardboard houses. By now, the flame had almost reached the petrified old man, who preferred being burnt alive to making any sudden movements while behind her.

She swore and kicked at the cardboard, sending half of it flying.

“Now he’s homeless too,” the man observed sardonically.

Gwen faced her criticiser angrily, forcing the fellow to shirked away like a whipped dog backing from a raised hand.

“You jus’ like the others! You Mages don't care none, stepping all over us with your fancy pyrotechnics.” He sulked. “Ya tossers think you’re all so righteous.”

Fuck, right in the heart, Gwen grumbled annoyedly. The man was right. She had been careless but she wasn't about to prove him right. Forcing a smile to her face, she turned back toward the newly homeless Bub and hunkered down to speak to him at eye level, careful not to touch the sticky floor.

“Tell me where this is.” She produced the scrap paper with Stacey's last whereabouts, simultaneously pulling out an LDM crystal. “And I’ll compensate you for your house.”

The old man regarded her with bewilderment, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. Gwen noted that he had no teeth, just red and infected gums. Instantly, she baulked. The smell that came from his breath was enough to make her eyes run. Overwhelmed by the sudden revulsion, she dropped the shard in the man's lap and removed herself from his vicinity. She was ready to zap a hobo or two, but she wasn't ready to face decades of dental neglect.

“Ya wasting a good shard, I tell ya.”

The bloody young man was still there! Gwen felt an urge to let loose a blast on the annoying little punk.

“Oi, I know that address. You looking for a good deal? To pick up some goods? I can take you ta see the boss. She runs the place you're after, she does.”

Gwen held up a scrap of paper. If nothing else, the acute young man had acute eyesight. “You know this place?”

“Sure do.”

“You can take me there?”

“For a crystal. For two crystals, I’ll walk you the whole way.” His face lit up.

“You better not be lying to me, Acute.”

“Who’s acute?”

“You are,” Gwen said smugly.

“I am cute?” The young man blushed.

“…” Gwen allowed the moment to pass. “What’s your name?”

“Anthony, but me mates call me Tonna, as in a ton-o-shit, on account that I am all glib like.”

“Right, Anthony.”

“Tonna, please.”

“Tony,” Gwen said firmly.

They stood awkwardly while Bub carefully bit into the crystal, gumming it. He must have acknowledged its authenticity, because in the next split-second he was gone, bolting away into the darkness of the hive city.

"..." Gwen turned to Tony. “Tell me about this place. Tell me about 'boss'.”

Tony gave her a big grin that was full of tobacco-stained earnestness. “We walk and talk, yeah? It’s at least a good half-hour away, even going through shortcuts.”

“You better not be trying to shaft me,” Gwen warned, flashing a crackle of electricity.

“No, miss. No way,” Tony assured her.

They departed from the plaza, Tony falling in step beside Gwen. “You’re tall, miss. So pretty. You a model out in the city?”

“I am a Mage and an… an Agent.” Gwen corrected herself.

“Prettiest girl I ever see, miss. Prettier than even the ones at the boss's place.”

The man kept stealing sideways glances at her, seemingly disbelieving every other moment that she was real. Gwen could see he was full of questions as well. Where had she come from? Why was she there? What were her three sizes?

They were now moving into a complex, though Gwen used the word loosely because it was more accurate to say that she was between buildings. Without any regard for code, whatever government housing had once existed were now extensions built on top of other extensions, giving the place the feel of a sprawling Jenga tower.

As they moved deeper, Gwen could feel wayward eyes upon her. When she looked up at the windows, she could sense gazes darting away, sometimes accompanied by the sound of slamming windows.

“Tell me about this boss.”

“Alright.” Tony considered his choices and went with the first one. “She owns that building you’re trying ta get to.”

“What does she do?”

"She's a broker,” Tony continued. “The old house is her place of business. Lots of people work there.”

“What kind of business?”

“Ah well, ya know, the usual kind here.”

“Drugs? Prostitutes? Got any Mages there?” Gwen's voice rose an octave.

“Sure, here and there. No whores, though. Nothing so low, she's a stock trader.”

Now it was Gwen’s turn to say, “What the fuck?”.

“Ya know, goods, like stocks, inventory, that sort of thing.”

“What kind of portfolio does she deal with?”

“Port… Wha? She does business. You know, with people like you.” Tony gazed at Gwen like she was the weird one. Maybe the too-pretty Mage wasn’t in the know after all. They said looks could be deceiving. The ones that came from outside to see the boss were all pretty weird. God knows they had some sick tastes.

"Just keep talking," Gwen commanded as the passage became narrower yet again.

"She real good to us, keeps us fed. Brought water to the area, that kind of thing."

"What do you do for her?"

"I am just a runner, message boy, on account that we got no crystals for Message here."

"You said other Mages come here often?"

"Nah, just once a month. People like you, looking to buy."

"Tell me more."

They continued to walk, the corridor getting narrower until Gwen had to duck between buildings that hung too low, filling some sections with fetid water. Luckily, her new “mate”, Tony, offered himself as a tribute, standing in the puddle and allowing Gwen to balance herself without the risk of slipping and falling into sewerage. The little bugger could be cute like that, Gwen mused to herself. Now to see what his boss had in store for her.

According to Tony, the place was likely a trafficker's den. If so, they could be holding her target. She was beginning to see how her quest was shaping up. A smuggler's den full of NoM criminals meant she could exercise her spells without getting into trouble. In the off-chance she ran into a Mage or two, she was sure they couldn't compare with the likes of Gunther and Alesia.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the street once known as Rogan Crescent, Blackheath, G6: 266 on her defunct map. From station to the den, the duo had walked for over forty minutes, though Gwen was positive they were no more than four to five kilometres from the station.

The building itself was an amalgamation of several fire hazards combined to create a multi-storey OSHA nightmare, looking as though it could go up in flames and create a national tragedy at a moment's notice. The windows were boarded up, not suspiciously at all, and only a single entrance made itself known. There was a bouncer out front, a giant of a man with a bull-like facade, build like a brick shithouse.

"Oi, Tonna, who's the chick? She a real stunner, mate." The man cracked his neck impressively as they approached.

"We need to see Bozza, Pieto."

"This the right address?" Gwen looked up at the tower of horrors.

"Yeppers."

She turned to Pieto. In Gwen's eyes, the crack-house-mafioso looked lifted straight from a B-grade film.

"You want in or not, lady?" Piet blasted Gwen with his loudspeaker voice.

Gwen hesitated but told herself that between Ariel, herself and Caliban, she should be fine. After all, she also had her non-Newtonian Shield. There was no way some NoMs could get through that.

"I am here to buy." Gwen flashed her Public Practice I.D. at him, too quick for Pieto to see.

Before Pieto could respond, she moved for the door, just like in the films she had seen. To think there'd be a day she would be using Hollywood flicks as real-life references!

To her dismay, her passage became blocked by a thick, hairy hand the width of her waist.

"Gotta check youse for weapons." Pieto grinned idiotically; his intentions couldn't be more blatant if he had tattooed it on his face.

"No," Gwen replied. "Fuck off."

"No check, no entry," Pieto insisted.

"Oi, Pieto mate, I wouldn't try if I was you. She's a quasit, the blue and sparkly kind," Tony added beside them. "You'd be lucky if ya just pissed and shat yaself right here. If Bozza found out you tried to stop an Initiate she'd have you skinned."

Pieto did not look pleased to be interrupted. "You bringing trouble for Bozza, Tonna?"

"Nah, mate, she got business, don't cha, miss?"

"I do indeed. I am looking for someone. Your boss should know."

"You got a name for the boss?"

"Gwen," Gwen said simply. "Why am I wasting my time speaking to you again?"

Pieto growled menacingly. Eyeing her figure hungrily, he back off. In the man's limited mind, he realised that a girl waltzing into Blackheath showing that much leg likely had no qualms dealing with unwanted attention.

"See? No dramas, mate." Tony tried to laugh it off.

Pieto shrugged. Whatever she may be, the girl was above his paygrade. "Fine. I got my eyes on you, Tunna. She fucks up and I beat you like a dog."

"Ha ha, eh." Tony choked on his own laughter.

Pieto moved to open the door. Reinforced hardwood, Gwen noted. No average Mage could blast through that, but she should be fine. Her mind caressed Caliban and Ariel for a second, both snuggled in their pocket dimensions, semi-aware of Gwen's circumstances. Using her Empathic Link, she told them to get ready. Ariel responded with an “Eee!”. Caliban growled, informing her of its eternal hunger.

Within, a few wayward strobes of glow bulbs long past their mana dates shed a sickly light. There was an immediate smell that Gwen found foul and familiar at once, reminding her of the synthetic weed people used to smoke in her old world. Gwen eyed Tony again. The young man seemed to be at ease, his body language betraying nothing. The stink grew in intensity as the door closed behind them with a thunk.

Well shit, I am in the thick of it now. Gwen fought her better instincts to remain calm, hoping that she wasn't about to throw shit at the fan. Along the way, she spied a glimpse into one of the rooms along the corridor; there was one with its door ajar. Within was a woman, naked from the waist up, drawing blue smoke from a glowing pot.

Gwen reminded herself that the whole place was a fire stack.

They soon reached what appeared to be an atrium carved out of someone's living room, now opened up to two storeys via a violently displaced ceiling. The broken skylight was covered by semi-transparent canvases, providing light and shelter.

There was a woman in the midst of the room, elevated upon a divan that was placed among piled up rugs and cushions. She languishingly puffed away on a hookah, sending out jet streams of blue and grey smoke. Her most distinguishing feature was her hair and her scar—a crawling pink thing that ran from the base of her jaw to the tip of her right eye.

Wow, nasty. Gwen winced. Another millimetre and she would be one-eyed bozza. Her hair was neon-electric, adding a dash of colour to the otherwise drab room. The woman was dressed in skintight calfskin pants and a tank top, pushing her considerable bust together to form a deep cleavage.

"Who's this, Tunna?" the woman asked.

"She's a Mage, looking to buy."

"What you looking for, sweetie?"

"My name is Gwen," Gwen announced; it never hurt to be polite. "I am taking delivery of Stacey Cantwell."

"Bozza. Nice ta meet cha." The woman seemed surprised. "You sure came quick. What's with the urgency?"

Gwen did her best to read Bozza's body language. The boss did not appear to be hostile, not at all suspicious. Additionally, she seemed entirely at ease with Gwen's presence, even prepared.

"Master's orders." Gwen switched lanes of enquiry, keeping her reply as vague as possible. If she could talk her way out of this, Mark would surely be as impressed as anything and so would her Master. "Where is the girl now?"

"She's down below."

"What are we waiting for then?" Gwen demanded, injecting a tingle of annoyance into her voice.

Over on the dais, the boss looked Gwen over. In her eyes, Gwen lacked the creepiness of the crew she had come to expect, but even she had to admit the young Mage had spunk. Just rocking up in Blackheath in that dress was enough of a ballsy move. With a bemused snort, she wondered if the girl had had her fun on the way in and what damage she had done.

"Jones, go get the girl." Bozza made a motion with her hand

Another bouncer, a Maori this time, materialised from the dark recesses of the chamber. So many nooks and crannies. Gwen glanced around nervously.

As they waited for the Maori to return, Bozza seemed interested in making small talk.

"So, which House you from?" Bozza seemed very keen indeed to speak to Gwen. "Didn't realise they sent pretty little things like you out for errands. I wouldn't want to let you out of my sight for a second if you were my blood-sister."

What? Gwen thought. What the hell is this woman talking about? "Comes with the territory," she answered, playing along.

"You bred and born in-house? Or did they dig you up from somewhere and had you contracted to serve?"

Gwen smiled coldly. "Born and raised," she tested the waters.

"Nice. That lightning element all yours?"

"Au natural."

"Ho ho, halcyon days? They're grooming you to be a big-wig!" Bozza cooed, licking her lips. "Young pretty little thing like you must have the Maguses in a tiff, no? Got yourself a few old men to syphon crystals? When'd you start?"

"Young," Gwen replied briskly. Inwardly, she was fighting back the bile in her throat.

"Fuck. Lucky you. Got a bright future ahead." She smiled, making a smacking sound with her lips. "Hows Master Klaus?"

"Angry."

Gwen persisted in her laconicism role. Come on, woman. Gwen felt her stomach knot. Where the fuck was Stacey?

"Ha ha!" Bozza laughed, her voice like the cawing of crows. "Ah, here's the merchandise."

Gwen turned to see the Maori pushing a giant box toward her on a trolley. The bouncer respectfully stopped half-a-metre from Gwen, popped the box-top, then stepped back.

Within, amongst fresh hay, was a young woman cradled in the foetal position. She appeared to be unconscious, or at least in some form of deep slumber. Stacey was entirely naked, immobilised by a calfskin strap wrapped around her neck, linked together her hands and feet. Even if the girl awoke somehow, she couldn't struggle free without enduring painful contortions.

With the human “cargo” presented in full, Gwen felt her throat constrict. Within her bosom, her heart jackhammered against her chest.

Fuck! She screamed internally. What the fuck is this and how is it an appropriate first mission for a novice like me?

But an act's an act. Gwen knew she was in too deep to pull out.

Leaning down to inspect the goods, she noted tags tied to the girl's feet.

S. Cantwell

F (21)

Illusion (I) Water (I)

"Satisfied?" Bozza asked in a friendly voice. "You want to pay in crystals, cash or items?"

"How much?" Gwen asked, ironing her nerves and modulating her tone and cadence.

Bozza regarded Gwen, puzzled. Her voice was tinged with suspicion when she next spoke.

"The agreed amount. Your Master's not thinking of Jewing me, is he?"

"I simply need to affirm the amount," Gwen stated matter-of-factly.

"Forty Large."

Forty HDM crystals. Gwen made a mental calculation in her mind. She had just enough. If she managed to scrape together all her HDM and LDMs, it was enough.

Was it too much to pay in small change? Gwen wondered. Crystals were crystals, surely?

On the other hand, what if things went south? Should she subdue them then call the police? She was confident she could take everyone in the atrium. Only Bozza seemed like a Mage and her aura was feeble. Perhaps a powerful show of force would frighten them.

She could also retreat and call Mark. Yes! She should call Mark. The madam had been anticipating an angry family member or a vindictive group of Mage-haters. A slaver's den was at least an eleven on a scale of five. Blood-sister? Bond-slave? These guys were human traffickers!

"Well? What will it be?" Bozza's voice was outright antagonistic now.

Gwen flashed her Storage Ring.

"Boss!" A familiar voice called out from the direction of the exit.

Pieto entered the room in a huff, glaring at Gwen with unmistakable hostility.

Every hair stood on Gwen's neck.

He had another woman behind him, shorter than Gwen, wearing a dark cowl that hid her face.

"Master, this Mistress Mage says that she is here for the Cantwell pickup. Tunna, who the fuck did you say this girl was?"

The entire gathering turned to look at Tony, who was by now sweating buckets, literally standing in a pool of his excretions.

"I-I found her by the station. She was looking for this place."

A heavy silence fell over Tony's audience.

"Tonna," Bozza said carefully, rising from her divan chair. "Who the fuck is this Mage?"

"She's a… a Tower Mage!" Tony stuttered, realising that he had made a dire, dreadful, deadly mistake.

"And who might you be, seeking to impersonate an Initiate?" The cowled Mage demanded of Gwen.

"I would like to know as well, Gwen." Bozza's eyes flashed, Gwen caught a flow of mana escaping Bozza's hair, wetting her hair. She was a Water Mage.

The two bouncers drew out steel batons, extending them with a swish of their hand. Beside her, the female Mage threw open her cowl, revealing a daring outfit of dark flowing silk, her young face framed by a pixie cut. From her, Gwen felt free-flowing motes of Air.

Awww SHIT. Gwen's mind kicked into overdrive. She could only hope all her training paid off.

Fucking Shit! Bozza cursed her runner’s stupidity.

With a word, she allowed her Body of Water to activate, making her resistant to fire and physical attacks. There were two girl Mages before her. The cowled one looked the part, while the other one was out of place. God damned shit! Bozza swore, the bitch had caught her off guard. The fact that she was momentarily bamboozled likely meant there would be a penalty from their employer.

But all was not lost! The girl was herself a prize. As a quasit-Mage, she was a rare specimen. If Bozza could offer her as a gift to the Houses, she may avoid punishment yet.

She commanded her goons to subdue the young Mage, watching the girl as she pulled back in fright and panic. The young sorceress was fresh, untested. Just looking at her face, Bozza knew that the stupid whelp would panic once her charade was up.

She almost laughed when Gwen fell to one knee, a dozen mana crystals scattering in all directions in her moment of distress.

Bozza felt the air vibrate. Something was off. The HDM crystals Gwen had scattered thrummed with unstable mana. What the hell was she doing? Is the girl trying to blow herself up?

Suddenly, a tenebrous Shield smothered their target, a Shielding spell like nothing she had ever seen before. A black membrane darker than black, a perfect semi-sphere that sucked in all light.

"The fu—" Bozza started to swear, but no one heard her curse.

BUNG!

The Flashbang crystals shattered, filling Bozza’s abode with a sound of thunder.

Chapter forty-three

Sleeping Beauty

The half-dozen Flashbang shards erupted with enough sound and fury to flake wallpaper from the walls.

Nestled safely within the shelter of her Void shield, Gwen counted to three, then dispelled her half-sphere dome. As expected, the Void Shield drained little vitality when pitted against sound and lumens, resulting in little more than shortness of breath. Once the tenebrous membrane had faded, the wailing of her assailants and their lamentations assaulted her ears.

Bozza was out of her water form, vomiting and puking her guts out on the floor. The NoM bouncers were bleeding from every facial orifice, holding their heads in their hands and groaning. The Initiate air Mage covered the side of her head, crimson oozing from between her fingers. A powder coat of dust drifted from the ceiling, falling like filthy snow.

Gwen raised a hand and conjured Ariel. A secondary jolt expanded her Familiar into its combat form. Bozza gasped as a white mongoose balled her over, snarling and growling, its slavering fangs an inch from her face.

The Initiate crawled onto her knees. "Air Whip!"

Gwen preemptively dived sideways, having felt the motes of air manifest before the spell materialised; a spontaneous reaction drilled into her by Alesia. A barbed whip of cutting wind whooshed past her face, marking a white line across the dark concrete. The Initiate then staggered upright, her recovery quicker than Gwen had expected.

Calling another spell to her lips, Gwen swung her momentum into a forward combat roll, landing on her feet. Ariel! she commanded mentally.

Atop Bozza, her mongoose armed its fur for an electric assault.

"Blast Bolt!"

Though her enemies outnumbered her, she wasn't worried. Common knowledge dictated that Creature Mages had much higher combat potential than casters of the same tier. In an equal powered spell exchange, attacker and defender had to wait for opportunities to penetrate their opponent's Shield. With Gwen possessing one of the more dominant offensive elements, it took all her opponent's concentration to shore up her defence.

"Eee!"

As planned, her mongoose shotgunned a fistful of lightning darts at the Air Mage, catching the novice off-guard.

"Air Cann— Arrgh!"

Before the girl could even finish, she took a dozen needles to the chest, sending her staggering backwards.

"Lighting Bolt!" Gwen invoked her staple offensive spell. A bolt of cobalt tore open the Initiate's despondent barrier. The resultant explosion flung the Mage bodily through the air and into a wall.

One down! Gwen refocused her attention.

All hell had broken loose over the compound. Doors were opening and people emerging from every nook and cranny. The cacophony of the Flashbang had shaken the gang members from their haze-induced stupor. From the west wing, Gwen saw a half-dozen men and women emerging from what must be a guard’s room, carrying clubs and blades.

Bringing knives to a Spell fight?

"Get back!" she howled, having learnt to inject her voice with mana to enhance its volume. She fired off a Lightning Bolt, skidding the plasma off the walls, scorching the plaster. At the end of the corridor, the bolt struck a boarded-up window, blowing out its glass and leaving behind only the frames. In its aftermath, naught but the scent of ozone and black specs of floating, burning wallpaper remained. That and there was now a window from which they could escape.

The goons fled, crawling over one another. The promise of blue smoke wasn't enough to fight a Mage, much less a Quasi-elemental Conjurer.

Noting the bouncers by her side, Gwen activated a flash of lightning from her Lightning Blade. With a groan, both Pieto and the Maori were down and out, convulsing on the floor.

A few more rubberneckers sought to risk life and limb out of curiosity, but Gwen sent them packing with cheap cantrips.

Bozza turned painfully to look for the Initiate. Her client’s once lovely face was a wreck of burns and bruised flesh, her body half-buried in plaster. Her goons were fleeing left, right and centre.

"You are going to regret this," she uttered dangerously to Gwen. "When the Masters find out what you’ve done to the Initiate, what you are trying ta do to their merchandise, you’re going to wish you were never born. You'll be bred in the barracks until you die."

Gwen's eyes flashed. Ariel took a swipe at Bozza's cheek, snapping her head back painfully and leaving behind three bloody reminders on her face.

She approached Stacey. Thanks to the chaotic action and commotion, whatever glamour had kept Stacey docile was now dispelled. From Gwen's elevated vantage, she could see that her ears were bleeding.

Ah, fuck! Only now did Gwen realised that her haphazard strategy had neglected the fact that her VIP was within the AoE. Thankfully, Stacey appeared otherwise unharmed. Gwen commanded Ariel to chew through Stacey’s leather bindings. She then produced the only other outfit she had prepared, a compact raincoat she had stowed in her ring, and wrapped it around Stacey's shivering body.

"You alright, Stacey? Your sister sent me." Gwen affected a kindly voice. "The madam is expecting your return. You're safe now."

Stacey appeared disorientated, her face full of fright and panic, though from Flashbang or glamour Gwen couldn't guess. Furthermore, she seemed oblivious to her nakedness, gazing up at Gwen with an expression of utter incomprehension. Moreover, her eyes were abnormal, her pupils widely dilated. Watching the girl and feeling the lack of resistance in her body, Gwen confessed that circumstances were quickly escalating out of her control.

"Stacey, can you hear me? My name is Gwen; the Madam sent me," she persisted.

"..." Stacey forced a smile to her face. The girl appeared younger than her sister, less experienced, almost innocent.

But the girl wasn't heeding her words.

Time wasn't on their side. Gwen grumbled as she grew increasingly more concerned. How should she move the girl? By force? Perhaps she could conscript one of the men here.

Above and below, she could now hear the commotion of more bodies moving throughout the building. She had been watching the corridors, but the rapid footfalls informed her there were other means of traversing through the interior.

She needed backup; she needed to call Mark.

With a flick of her hand, she materialised her Message Device.

Just as she was about to punch in Mark's Glyph, Stacey escaped her protection, forgoing Gwen’s raincoat. With surprising agility, her VIP stumbled past Ariel, past Bozza, and made straight for the hookah.

There, the woman dropped to all fours, tore a mouthpiece from the bulbous bottom, then began to draw out its euphoric contents greedily. Gwen felt her heart sink as Stacey exhaled a long stream of blue-grey smoke. The girl then sat cross-legged, heedless of her indecent exposure, and began to rhythmically huff at the phallic mouthpiece with a look of pure bliss.

"What… what the hell did you do to her?" Gwen demanded of Bozza, stunned by the grotesqueness of it all.

"She's too far gone" Bozza cackled, her face splitting into a malicious grin. "You'd just be saving a worthless junkie now. Once the Blue had its claws into you, it's all over."

Gwen repositioned herself beside Stacey and tried prying her away from the hookah.

"Stacey, listen to me, Sally is waiting to see you. That stuff's poison. Come on, we need to go."

Stacey's grip on the hookah was stronger than she had anticipated, but the woman was no match for her tempered strength.

The moment Gwen tore her away, however, a look of panic and pain took over Stacey's ashen face. In her distress, her flailing bare legs kicked the hookah, dropping it from the platform. The device fell heavily and a part of its mechanism come loose with a clattering jangle. The powder compressed within blew out in a rolling fog that flowed over the struggling girls, covering them in an expansive envelopment of blue dust.

Gwen held her breath, careful as not to inhale the indistinct magical concoction.

On reflex, Gwen whipped around, manifesting a semi-dome Shield of lightning. Her eyes scanned the room, surveying nothing of interest. The Initiate was still in the wall, the bouncers comatose and Bozza pinned by Ariel.

I can’t escort Stacey like this. Gwen cursed her dilemma. She wasn't strong enough to carry the girl and Stacey was too drugged up to be relocated compliantly. Filling with frustration, she fought off an immense migraine, wishing she lie down and sleep.

Producing her Message Device, she hammered the Glyph for Mark. In the course of her action, a curious sense of déjà vu swept over her.

"Mark, I need backup," she spoke immediately into the floating icon. "I am in trouble. The gang who caught Stacey are people traffickers!"

"You're kidding! Are you alright?" Mark's unmistakable voice soothed her nerves.

Gwen began to explain what she had found while scanning for danger. The Initiate was in the wall, the bouncers were down, and Bozza was on the floor. Ariel remained on top of Bozza, but to her surprise, it was no longer in its combat form.

"Eee! Eeeee!"

Ariel! What are you doing? Gwen demanded. The adorable marten began to screech and scream at her, its face beset with worry, it was gesticulating at something.

Gwen tried to access their Empathic Link but found her thoughts muddled and full of interference. It felt as though they were trying to speak underwater, shouting across distant rooms.

Suddenly, she felt drunk. To her growing incredulity, Bozza rose from the floor.

But it wasn't Bozza.

Instead, the gang leader possessed a beautiful face both sensuous and desirous, full of exciting promises, gazing into her eyes with a pair of hazel orbs Gwen would recognise anywhere.

Helena Huang, her mother, was standing in front of her with an expression full of mocking disappointment. Rigidly, Gwen froze. What's she doing here? Her mind cried out in confusion and panic. The agony in her brain was akin to being probed by fingers of fire.

"Mother! What? A-are you a part of this?"

"You have failed us terribly, Gwen. I guess in the end, your uncle was right. Your only use was in bedding your betters. Go back to Forestville, Gwen. Go home! Forget about your future. Shut up! Don't you dare speak to me like that! Get out! Go to your room!"

Gwen reeled from the force of her mother's psychic command as though struck by a physical blow.

A part of her questioned this reality, but her consciousness was already spiralling, taken by dark and troubled waters, drawn by the suck of a psychic sea.

The weight of the mongoose beast relented as it fizzled, finally allowing Bozza to rise onto her shoulder. She had been in her water-form when the sonic blast struck. The unfortunate combination had jarred the motes making up her body, introducing her to the indescribable feeling of having every organ shifted.

Beside her, the blasted lightning girl was now talking to thin air, emoting expressions of disbelief and shock, her face undergoing the various stages of one taken by Phantasmal Killer. Thank the Magus there was an Enforcer here. Bozza coughed, spitting out blood. With great annoyance, she realised she would have to beg for a high-tier restoration potion.

"Let's hope Master is feeling charitable," a voice spoke quietly from across the room.

The owner of the voice was a stick-thin Mage with a pulled back cowl. His eyes were deeply sunken into his overlarge skull, his gaze dark and sickly. Pale, jaundiced skin wrapped the man's skull like stretched canvas. As he spoke, a shortness of breath gave the impression of permanent illness.

With a glance, his victim's imaginary horror grew in intensity. The duo watched as the girl flailed and stumbled, failing to flee from some unseen foe. The sorceress resisted well, but ultimately fell to her knees and began to whimper.

The gaunt Mage grunted with yet more exertion, pushing more mana into his spell. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he sought to overwhelm the last bastion of the girl's will. Finally, their victim convulsed once and laid still upon the stained concrete floor.

"Tough customer." The Enforcer grunted. "She's strong. As strong as a Magus."

He looked at Bozza, who stood beside him quietly, one hand trying to hold her guts in.

"Amazing specs on that one." The Illusionist exhaled. "I could feel… something. Even when a part of her mind was overwhelmed, another part of her kept fighting. Did you see her casting?"

"Yeah, Evocation and Conjuration," Bozza moaned with a measure of jealousy.

"Looks like you might be in for promotion after all. What luck, huh? A one-in-a-million prize waltzed right into your lap." The Enforcer chuckled sardonically. "Maybe you did something great in a past life?"

Bozza grunted. She kicked her bouncers until they were awake. It would have taken the drug rats days to recover from the paralysis, but these were large men with well-fed constitutions.

Pieto and Nikau regained their senses. Their bodies may have been beaten, but their mistress's order was absolute. The latter took Stacey, who was still in a half stupor, trying to breathe in the blue dust, wrapping his hand roughly around her neck. She moaned painfully but lacked the motivation to struggle or flee. Pulling her upward, the big man then scooped her up bodily before moving for one of the corridors.

Pieto, his mug-face full of undisguised malice, moved to relocate Gwen from the floor.

"No drugs," the Enforcer stated coldly. "She's worth more than you and your whoreson family ten times over."

“He’s right. Don’t fuck this up. Take the utmost care," Bozza reminded her goon as well. The boss then turned to her companion. "She's yours anyway. You managed to capture her. You take the credit."

"We share the credit," came the reply. "Trust me. You'll need that healing potion if you want to live past forty."

Bozza smirked, an expression that was unbecoming to her scarred face. The Enforcer had worked with her for a year now, and though they had a professional relationship, he could be softie too. Was it a quirk? She sometimes wondered. He wasn't a sick fuck like some of the men who came down to Blackheath, just a bloke doing a job. For a while now, she'd been curious as to his identity, but dared not pry. That was strictly forbidden.

Meanwhile, Pieto was already getting handsy.

"Pieto, you want to lose that hand?" Bozza barked at her simple-minded bouncer. The man had scooped the girl in his arms but was attempting to slide a hand under the girl’s dress. "You want to know what it's like to slowly drown?"

"Sorry, Bozza," Pieto sulked, princess-carrying Gwen down another corridor.

"Oi, Pieto."

"Yes, boss?"

"Strip her items for inspection, then get her ready for transport. We'll relocate tonight."

They watched the big man disappear with the girl. Bozza's ears were still ringing with tinnitus.

"What do you think?"

"We need to move her quickly. She had a Ring of Storage. It looked to be a signature build too."

“Expensive?"

“Undoubtedly, which means she's being tracked, I guarantee it."

"Alright, what's the play?"

“Scatter and hide, get our reward, then rebuild, wait for this to blow over."

Bozza cursed. She rather liked the place.

The Enforcer moved towards the broken plaster wall where Gwen's Lightning Bolt had deposited the Initiate. He pulled out the concussed Initiate, then placed a finger under her nose.

"Still alive, nothing a few minor pots won't fix," he observed casually, smacking her face a few times. "Wake up, Initiate."

"What… what happened?" The girl stammered as she stirred, her eyes coming into focus. Her lumbar was between fire and ice. She must have broken something as well because she couldn't turn her torso without nearly fainting again.

"You got your arse handed to you, that's what happened," the Enforcer replied. "They don't instruct your generation like they use to, huh? Too much horizontal training?"

"That bitch!" The girl winced. "Where is she now?"

"Getting set up for transport. We're removing the girl's trackers below in a shielded room."

"I want to see, argh…" the Initiate knelt over, clutching her ribs.

"You stay put. I'll get you back to the House."

"I am fine. Erg… oh, fuck. " The initiate passed out again. The gaunt Mage shook his head. The new generation could be talented, sure, but they were bloody useless in a real fight. It was the peace; true grit was taught in the trenches.

Watching the two bicker, something that had been scratching the back of Bozza's head clicked. "Tonna! Tony! Anthony! Where the fuck are ya?"

She was answered by the sound of the building creaking.

Of course, the fucker's gone. Bozza spat. The guy had the tenacity of a cockroach.

Bozza commanded another two goons to fetch a stretcher for the Initiate, placing her in an isolated room to rest until they could leave with all their merchandise. Activity slowly returned to the compound, but the Enforcer's deduction was right. Soon, all this would be gone. All her work for a year, up in smoke because some stupid Apprentice-in-training thought it her business to meddle Bozza's business. She ordered sentries to be set, ensuring that the base was fully alerted, then searched for some clean bandages.

Gwen dreamt, paralysed by phantasmal visions.

Within the recess of her mind, she had fought Edgar for hours and now she was out of mana. She watched in disbelief and horror as her assailant disintegrated her navy dress with a simple caress of his fingers, exposing the white of her globular breasts. His face was a mask of heat, an amalgamation of various faces she had seen since coming to this world. That man on the train, those workmen who had catcalled her, those boys she had met at Uncle’s, even that young man she had just met, Tony.

She raised a hand to blast him—Lightning Bolt! She invoked, but no power issued forth. I’m not a Mage! Gwen remembered. She had failed her Awakening! She was just Gwen, the old Gwen, the NoM of her old world.

Shit! Shit! She cried out, gesturing wildly but summoning nothing. Where was Ariel? Where was Caliban? Where were Alesia and Gunther and Henry and Mark? Hadn't they had all promised to help and protect her? Where were her friends? Yue and Elvia?

"A NoM has no friends amongst the Mages, as a sheep has no allies amongst wolves," the indistinct vision of Edgar mocked her.

"I am afraid he's right," another voice announced behind her.

Gwen turned to see her mother, her face also hyperbolically surreal, twisted.

"I am giving you to him." The voice that spoke was her uncle's.

No! Gwen cried out. No! No! No! I'd rather die. Kill me now! Kill me now, you bastards! I want to go home! Go home to Sydney!

"I am going to enjoy this." Edgar discarded his robes. Half his cheek was missing, as well as an arm and a leg. Dark blood oozed from the festered, necrotic wounds. "I will make this as long and unpleasant as possible, my sweet."

Gwen bit her tongue. She bashed her head against the linen. Turning inward, she dug deep for that font of power that was rightfully hers, like a madwoman digging with her bare hands, splitting nails and flinging blood with every handful of dirt, dredging the darkness for power. All she needed was one mote, one mote and she could end it all.

Then, just as Edgar's robe arrived at the edge of her vision, she found something. A dark ichor broke free from the crust of the earth like shale oil. It grew until it covered her white legs, wrapped her waist, touched her breasts, black and viscous, thick and suffocating. She had wanted salvation and now she was drowning in its obsidian opulence. If she could find no allies in the light, then she would call for the nameless ones in the dark. If the thick air above proved murderous, then she would breathe fetid water.

Pieto slid his hands up and down Gwen's white thighs as he carried her. The girl's skin was smooth and moist, toned and tender. She was so different from the women they held there, whose bodies were feeble and frail, wrecked by the Blue. Nothing like the supple flesh in his arms.

He kicked open the door to the lead-lined basement, where a dark corridor revealed a dozen more rooms. There was other merchandise here, men and women, but they were nothing like his prize. These poor bastards were locals—adolescents who awakened to one thing or another. They were fodder, useful for some dark purpose Pieto dared not know.

The bullish man walked until reaching the final chamber, shouldering open an iron door. This one was larger than the others, cleaner. It had yellowing tiles that covered the floor, where a trickle of water dripped into a drain. Pieto made for the large steel table in the room's centre, where he deposited the girl's unconscious body, enjoying the feeling of her hair falling over his hairy arms. Should he undress her? It was the rational thing to do, but Pieto understood that Bozza would likely have something to say about that. Instead, he patted her down, removing from her dress a small purse just large enough for a few cards.

He picked through her wallet and placed gingerly on the table her Student I.D., her Public Practice of Magic I.D., and after a moment of thought, pocketed the hundred or so dollars she had in notes. It was a perk that came with the job.

He then took to her hands, feeling the softness of her fingertips. Not a day of labour, the large man noted, feeling a dark emotion welling in his chest. These bloody Mages! This one in particular must have been raised like a princess. That was why she had blundered into Bozza's den, shooting lightning all over, stroking her ego with her superior existence.

Continuing, he tugged off her Storage Ring, held it in his hands for a second, then placed it carefully next to her I.D. He wasn't a Mage, but he could tell from its craftsmanship that it was expensive. Hers wasn't some run of the mill Ring from a mall; a Master had handcrafted it. Pieto tried to guess how much it was worth, and the answer only incensed him further.

She had another ring, a nondescript, non-magical thing. A dark gem inlaid into a sterling silver band. That looks expensive. Pieto smacked his lips gently. Checking his surroundings, he tugged at her finger until it came loose. After gazing at it longingly for a second, he slipped it into his pocket.

Magic for the Mages and silver for people like us, Pieto rationalised.

And speaking of perks, he grinned.

The Enforcer and the boss had to resolve matters above before they arrived below. Pieto's job was to ensure that the girl was tied and tethered. He rolled her pliant body over on its side, then folded her lower limbs until she was in a foetal position. Then he took a roll of leather strips from a hanging hook and dextrously wrapped it around her ankles. The same length then moved between her legs, where he had placed her hands together as though she was in prayer. He made a butterfly loop around her hands before moving onto her swan-like neck, where he measured and cut the rest of the length. This way, if the sorceress struggled or strained against the strap, she would choke herself senseless. Pieto wasn't too bright but he was good at his work. The positioning was expertly arranged, ensuring a smaller profile for transport as well as torturous bondage should the girl awake.

Stepping back, Pieto regarded his handiwork. Even unconscious the girl was absurdly beautiful. Unashamed, he felt the mounting hardness of an all-too-natural compulsion. He couldn't touch her, of course, but that was just a manner of speaking. After all, he had bound and gagged her, right? It was a perk.

With trembling hands full of anticipation, Pieto moved to unzip the side of her dress, his breathing growing laboured with every inch of exposed flesh. Soon, his hand trembled upon her flawless skin.

Just a touch, he told himself. It's a perk.

As his fingers made their mark, there was a slight thrum that engendered behind him, accompanied by the sound of something landing wetly on the floor. Though usually alert, he was too engrossed in his holy task to notice. Pieto was a man on a mission.

“Ha,” Pieto chuckled. He loved this part of his job. The high and mighty Mages were just people once you had they hogtied and gagged. The girls especially. He loved that look of despair when they awoke in the box.

"Heeheehee," he chuckled.

“Shaa, shaa, shaa,” something chuckled beside Pieto.

The bouncer's fingers froze just as they were about to venture further. He could feel it now—a dense presence hovering over his right shoulder. In slow and measured movements, he turned to face his watcher.

His new companion was a strange and alien thing composed entirely of obsidian glass. Its smooth head was semi-transparent, radiating an alien and exotic elegance.

“H-he-hello?” Pieto couldn’t think of anything else to say. How would one answer an otherworldly horror anyhow? The creature must have understood him, however, for he watched with paralytic fascination as the head began to split three ways. From within the carapace emerged an engorged black-purple head with a lamprey’s lips, drooling grey goo.

There was a blur of darkness, then a barbed tongue shot into Pieto’s open mouth.

He screamed, half-choking.

Caliban screamed with him.

As one, the basement and its cargo of desperate souls screamed and screamed.

Chapter forty-four

The Hungering Dark

“Ban, Ban, Ca-Caliban. Has a new master. Her name is Gwen!”

Caliban had yet to develop a fully formed sentience, so it wasn't entirely sure why it was humming that particular song, one it had learned from its Master's memory. There was a rhythmic quality to it that Caliban enjoyed, though the words held no particular meaning in its elemental mind.

It also didn't know why it was freed from its Master's pocket dimension.

Every other time its Master had set it free, it had been shackled to her will, unable to do as it pleased. This time, she had been so generous with her life force that it had materialised, fully untethered.

When Caliban landed wetly behind the creature, it knew instinctively that the being had hostile designs upon its Master. It also knew that if its Master perished, Caliban would also cease to be. As a thing born of the Void, it rather liked manifesting in the Material Plane, where there was light, sound and delicious vitality, so much better than the dark slumber of eternity.

And so, Caliban hovered over the creature, wondering what it should do. Curiosity was a new emotion that it had only learned recently, though it immediately put it to good use. Was the creature tasty? How much of Caliban’s belly could it fill? Did it possess fortifying mana?

To its surprise, the creature turned from trying to touch its Master and instead stared at Caliban. Its eyes shorn wetly, deliciously. The beast opened its mouth, and Caliban shot one of its barbed tongues into it. The thing then started screaming, a blood-curdling scream. Caliban had no blood though, only hateful ichor, so it screamed with it. They were singing! It was like a chorus. Not so different from Master’s song.

"Shaaa! sha-sha, shaa!"

The creature then tried to grab Caliban, but its fingers were weak, sliding off the slimy film that covered its exoskeleton, consumed by its Void mucus. In response, Caliban expanded its lamprey's maw and took within its mouth the head of his attacker.

There was a sound of grinding bone.

Yuck! Caliban did not like this thing at all. There was no yum in it. It barely gave Caliban any mana. Simultaneously, it could feel that its master was desperately in need of both mana and life force. Master was generous this time, but she had given Caliban too much.

"Shaa!"

Caliban puffed out its carapaced chest, its joints flexing proudly. It would provide its Master with the life she needed. After all, hadn't Master taken Caliban from the dark and given it form? It wasn't useless like the rat-snake. It would be her favourite. Then she could bring Caliban into the Material world every day.

With renewed determination and direction, Caliban slithered from the chamber, boring a hole through the iron door in an instant. There were others like the man-creature in the other rooms. It could taste their mana, delicious motes of elements in blue and red and green and yellow. Delicious mana, good for Caliban, good for Master!

Now motivated, Caliban pushed through the oxidised metal sheeting with the ease of an eel in silt.

There was another man-creature in there. No, not a man. A woman! A Mage, like Master! It could smell the delicious mana seeping from her body. She was looking at him with her mouth wide apart, making a sound which greatly pleased Caliban. The female’s voice had a higher pitch, and Caliban liked the manner in which the sound vibrated its carapace. It moved towards her, miming her open mouth, its maw echoing her high-pitched scream.

Food! Good for Caliban! Food for Gwen!

Henry Kilroy, Master of the Ten, Lord of Oceania's Towers, jolted from mead-mulled sleep to full wakefulness the moment Gwen's ring disconnected from her finger.

"Sufina!" he commanded.

The dryad materialised beside him. They were in the Dryad's Grot, a place where the passage of time was as ponderous as the march of an oaken forest.

"Master, what's wrong?" Sufina said worryingly.

"It's Gwen. She's no longer in possession of her Contingency Ring. What the hell is Mark doing? He told me he’d be taking care of her!"

Sufina's face grew worried. "Was it unwise to send Gwen to Master Chandler after all? There is history between the two of you, after all, not all of it pleasant."

“History.” the word hammered at Henry's chest. History, yes, but also two decades of working together, surviving together, saving one another countless times. If that wasn't enough history to trust a man, what was?

“Not now." Henry raised a hand weakly. "I know you are not fond of Mark."

"I am fond of Gwen," Sufina complained defiantly.

"Can we leave the Grot?"

Sufina shook her head, sending out a flurry of autumn leaves. "No, you're not strong enough.”

Henry sighed. “Where’s Gunther?"

"He should be at the committee meeting today."

Henry invoked Gunther's Message Glyph. His Apprentice answered his Master's call immediately.

"Gunther, Gwen’s lost her tracker. I am sending you her last location."

"Yes, Lord Magister," Gunther returned, using Henry’s officious moniker in public.

"I fear you will be teleporting in blind. It's in Blackheath."

“Not a problem, sir. How would you like this resolved?"

Henry's jaw grew rigid. Had Mark betrayed him? Was Gwen in danger? There were too many unknowns. His first instinct was to annihilate whatever had laid hands on his student, but he knew better than to deviate from the middle path. It was his Credo after all; what his Faction held sacred. Power and accountability, temptation and temperance; it was a precarious balance.

Thinking of his youngest, the Magister took a deep breath, stifling the violent emotions welling in his chest. "Do as you will," Henry said at last, knowing Gunther would do what was right. He always did.

"Sir," Gunther's iron voice returned from the Gylph. "Paul says it will take some time to calibrate the long-range teleportation circle."

“Be swift and keep her safe, Gunther."

"I will. Gunther out."

The Glyph faded.

A second Message Glyph flared.

"Henry." the distinctive voice of Mark Chandler came from the other side.

"Mark, you’d better have some answers for me."

Bozza smelled the blood before they even heard the screams. Violence, particularly ultra-violence, possessed a distinct metallic tang. There was a texture to the scent, a kind of congealed resonance that shook the very soul of the observer, triggering a conditioned response ingrained within the marrows of the mind from a time when men were fodder for the beasts.

She turned to her Enforcer. He was shaking. Shaking! Together, they had taken down scores of Arbiters and enslaved hundreds more! But never once had Bozza seen the Enforcer show any reaction other than pleasure in his work.

"What's wrong?”

“There's something down there. The mana, it’s full of hunger. I can't tell what it is. Never felt anything like it before."

They studied the stairs leading down to the basement.

"Aarrrrrrgh!”

“Shaaaa!"

Suddenly, another shriek. Not a single cry, but two! The first scream was a shriek, raw and primordial, thick with fear and terror. This second filled with insanity and hysteria, a mocking, inhuman scream that went on and on and on without ceasing. Was it a duet? What being could utter such a sound?

Booza and the Enforcer regarded one another. Flee—that was their first thought. But after a moment to gather their wits, they realised retreat had never been an option. If they could salvage the merchandise. That was acceptable, even commendable, but to run away with nothing? To confess when placed under True Word that they had bolted without knowing why? That was suicide.

"I am afraid," the Enforcer swallowed, "that I am not much use in a straight up fight so ladies first?"

Bozza's wounded organs knotted, though her companion was right—she had to go first. As a Water Transmuter, taking damage was her job.

"Body of Water! Crest Shield! Enhanced Constitution!"

Bozza rebuffed herself against the physical and the elemental. Whatever was down there, it would have to chew through a persistent, self-regenerating barrier, her Body of Water, and then her flesh and bone. Even if the Lightning sorceress was awake, she could still fend her off for a few moments, enough for the Enforcer to do his worst.

Gingerly, the two arrived at the basement. The stench of blood was thicker here, almost physically assailing the senses. The hair on their heads stood ramrod straight. If follicles had a voice, they'd be screaming.

The place was pitch black.

Something had taken the emitter globes.

"Faery Light!" The Enforcer waved a hand. Four glowing candles flew into the dark chamber.

There was a sound of liquid dripping and seeping somewhere.

One of the lights floated toward the door closest to the stairs.

There was a round hole where a grate should be—an utterly smooth orifice that looked as though it was cleanly cut. A thick, viscous slime that was grey and semi-transparent lingered at the point of entry.

Bozza produced a set of keys, the metal jangling loudly in the silence.

There had been a tier II Earth Evoker in the chamber. Now there was a mess of flesh vaguely resembling a man.

Bozza looked away. She wasn't cut out to deal with this. She was a slaver and a trader. Her job was to feed the Blue to her merchandise, then watch them descend into insensibility. The scene in front of her could only be described as butchery.

The Enforcer did not look away. He had seen this before, in the war, on the Brisbane Line. He had watched a saurian steed—a grotesquely muscular, vaguely humanoid goanna—tear a fellow soldier in half. The snapping of ligaments, the rendering of muscles, the blood wrung out like a wet rag—this scene was terrible, but he’d seen worse.

"The brain. The heart. The liver," the Enforcer said quietly, taking note of what was missing. The observation made Bozza shiver uncontrollably. "Whatever has been here was after the mana organs."

Humans didn't have Cores, though it had long been theorised that certain parts of the body held the secret to man's ability to channel astral forces.

The duo steeled their spines, persisting down the corridor. It was the same in every room. Headless bodies with fleshy holes bored through their torsos. Finally, they reached the main room, the prep room.

A mountainous carcass blocked their entry. It was headless.

"Fuck`n oath. Pieto." Bozza choked. "He'd been with me for four years. Poor sod."

The lights drifted within. They saw the Lightning girl. She was bound and gagged, the leather tying her into a position that made spellcasting impossible. Her face was deadly pale, sunken, in fact, looking as though she was on the verge of wasting away.

"Why's this one alright?" Bozza asked suspiciously.

The Enforcer moved into the room and tested the straps, lifting Gwen a little before letting her fall with a thump.

"She's still out cold. Straps are perfect," the Enforcer observed. "She's very weak, though. What the hell happened?"

"If not her, then where the fuck did that thing come from?"

The Enforcer exhaled. "Who knows?" he replied. "Although we both know that if we lose this merchandise, we're both dead Mages walk—"

"Aeeerrrrgh! NO! AEEeeee—"

There was a scream, suddenly cut short.

It came from above.

"Fuck, it’s gone upstairs!" Bozza cursed, running for the stairs.

The Enforcer took another gander at Gwen.

Slap!

Without warning, he slapped her across the face. The girl remained unmoving, wholly unconscious. Her bloodless dermis began to welt.

The Enforcer observed Bozza moving up the stairs in twos and threes, then quickly followed.

"You did WHAT!" Henry screamed into to Glyph, his chest rising and falling painfully. Sufina laid a hand against her Master's back, transfusing a steady stream of her life force.

"You did say to send her into the lion's den," Mark's voice replied calmly. "If she couldn't make it through even that, maybe she wasn't cut out for your redemption."

"You know very well what I meant, Mark! Y-you! How could you?"

"It was the choice you made for us back in the day, no? Why the hypocrisy?"

"How is that the same? We were at war! At WAR, Mark!"

"Then where is Lizzy now? Where’s my sister Jane?” Mark's voice also rose. "If you're going to be such a mollycoddler, then why the tests? Just keep her fed in your Tower! Give her a scholarship! Marry her off to your peerless Apprentice! Who dares challenge the ageless Magister Kilroy and his wunderkind Paladin?"

"Mark… Mark, you…"

Henry could hardly breathe for all the red he was seeing. Sufina gave him another jolt to ease his laborious breathing.

"Fine, you wanted to talk? We'll talk. I am coming for you and I am bringing Surya. Go get Agnes. We're going to put this demon behind us once and for all."

"I eagerly await your austere presence," Mark remarked dryly, then the light of his Glyph died.

"Gunther, I am relying on you," Henry remarked to the air.

Old demons, the Magister breathed out, a hand moving toward his heart. The sins of yesterday, coming home to roost.

"It's a demon! Run for your lives!”

Fifty-odd kilometres away from Sydney Tower, absolute anarchy and chaos had erupted in the abode of the local flesh trader. A creature had emerged out of nowhere and it was now staring down Nikau, tasting him with its flailing tentacles.

They said that before one’s imminent demise, life flashed before one's eyes. But all Nikau could recall were the memorable events of that day.

At first, it had been a day like any other. Runners looked for newly minted Mages in the area they were assigned to, speaking to families with children, offering them food, money and crystals, if that was what they desired. Occasionally, a runner came back with the news that a family refused to give up their kin. That wasn't too unusual either, and Bozza merely had to send him or Pieto out with a stern message and the problem was solved.

If a NoM family had a rare awakening, Bozza was generous with compensation. An extra mouth to feed becoming a windfall was a welcomed occasion. For a long time, Nikau believed they were doing good for the local community. How many families had they saved that way? How many younger siblings survived, thanks to the sacrifice of a single would-be Mage?

Then the day had got complicated. A girl came into the shop, dressed to the nines. She was more lovely than anything Nikau had ever seen. God knows Pieto was smitten; the guy's eyes had been falling out of their sockets. A runner, Tonna, had brought the girl.

Like everyone else, Nikau had assumed she was a buyer, or an agent representing someone they couldn't refuse.

They had watched the boss chat the girl up, all friendly. Nikau especially liked the girl's attire. It was expensive-looking, of course, but elegant. Her white legs extended from the navy dress like a dream.

Sometimes Nikau wondered if he could ever meet a girl like that. Not one of the merchandise, no, a real girl, someone tall and slim, with a heart-shaped face and long dark hair. He could take her out on dates when Bozza was kind. They could take the train to the city, see the harbour. He had heard it was beautiful out there, that you could see the Shield Wall shimmering at night against the waters like long white fingers. At midnight, the girl would place her head upon his broad chest, and he could smell her hair, which would be like flowers. She would cross her white legs over his lap and peck him shyly on the cheek. That was the dream.

Nikau had always felt that he was different from the people there. He wasn't like Pieto, who wanted his girls kicking and screaming. He wasn't like Bozza either, who saw the kid Mages as meat and merchandise. He felt more akin to the Enforcer. They had spoken once, and the cowled Mage had told him always to remember that he was doing a job. Nikau liked that. He was a contractor doing a job. He was working hard so that one day, he would have a girl of his own, and they could see the harbour.

"SHAAAA!"

The chomping maw came closer to his face.

Well, sugar! Nikau thought sadly to himself. To think he'd never been kissed by a girl.

Caliban was extremely pleased with itself.

It felt happier than any eldritch horror ever to spawn from the Plane of whimpering death and eternal darkness.

Having finished its allotment of flesh downstairs, it found a service pipe and made its way upstairs. There were scant Mages up there, but the lack of quality was made up by quantity!

Unlike the ones below, these were lively! Its prey scattered this way and that, causing Caliban to exert real effort to catch them. With each being it devoured, it sent a jolt of vitality into its Master. He could feel her stirring now, sensing her Astral Body filling with the stuff of life itself. She would be boundlessly pleased.

Then, just when it had thought all the best morsels were gone, it found another. As it slithered closer, though, it realised that the figure looked familiar. It knew this female! Master had been speaking to it earlier, trying to help it. It couldn't possibly eat it. Caliban wasn't a scholarly creature, but it had its smarts.

It retreated, and in the adjacent room found another creature, a Mage! This one had fought its Master earlier, delicious! Unbidden, Caliban’s prey began to sing, even though it was damaged and weak. But lucky for her, Caliban wasn’t the type to be picky.

Gwen woke in the shivering dark, stirred into consciousness by a sudden sense of vitality that filled her body. She tried to move, but a strap tied her arms and legs together. There was an immediate sense of panic, but her feverish terror cooled when Gwen realised that, unlike Stacey, her body was still fully clothed.

She looked around, but there was nothing to see—her surroundings were dark; pitch black. There was the sound of something dripping into the drain below. She was on a metal table and the iron had warmed up to her body, meaning she had been there for some time.

Internally, she sensed emptiness, but also a strange fullness. The paradoxical sensation made her turn inward, instantly realising with horror that Caliban was gone. Ariel was still in her pocket dimension but Caliban's was empty. She frantically tried to establish a telepathic link, but it was weak and untethered. She would have to see Caliban directly to command it and reestablish her Empathic Link.

Gwen tried to move again, but the leather around her hands and ankles pulled against her throat. Calm yourself, don't panic. Gwen repeated the word like a mantra. Your sister-in-craft, Alesia, trained you well.

Very carefully, she willed Void matter to materialise upon her hands via the conduit of her Conjuration Sigil. She forced the motes down to her arm painfully, feeling the leather bindings came loose like rotten rags. Then, quietly and carefully, she tore at the bindings on her feet and neck, shredding them like paper.

Interestingly, though she had expected fatigue from using the Void, she now felt no discomfort. After realigning her dress, she moved from the steel table, landing wetly in a puddle of what smelled like rusted iron.

Blood. It was blood. Gwen knew because she had smelt it when Edgar's limbs had come off. “Flare!"

A bright cantrip suffused the room with light. Gwen looked down. If she had been prepared, she probably would have weathered it better. Instead, she vomited over Pieto's headless body.

Jesus. Her heart sank. She wished she didn't know what had happened here, but she did. There could only be one reason Pieto was missing his head.

Clang! Crash!

She rushed from the room, following the commotion coming from above. Her Mary Janes clacked across the concrete. Outside her cell, she noticed holes in all the doors of the other cells.

The pit of her stomach dropped.

"Nikau! Fuck, it got Nikau!"

Bozza wondered if she'd gone insane.

They had finally caught the creature redhanded coming out of the secondary preparation room on the first floor. The Enforcer had guessed that it was after Mages, and there just happened to be two Mages on the first floor—the Initiate and the merchandise. When they blasted open the door, the thing was chewing on poor Nikau's head.

The monster was hideous, more terrifying than anything Bozza had seen in textbooks. From the outset, it was snake-like with a bulbous, purple head from which several tentacles protruded, each bristling with teeth.

"Water Bolt!"

"Magic Missile!"

Both Bozza and the Enforcer fired off projectiles against the thing, sending it reeling. It had shrieked in pain, then fled for the atrium. They followed it, triggering a game of cat and mouse.

After half-a-dozen rooms, they finally cornered it in the ruins of the atrium. By then, its carapace had fully expanded, doubling it in size, now becoming a pulsating mass of writhing purple flesh, as tall as a grown man. It shot barbed tentacles towards them, but with enough water pressure, Bozza managed to keep both herself and the Enforcer Shielded.

"Caliban! Stop!" To their surprise, the Lightning girl emerged from the basement corridor. She was dishevelled, but otherwise appeared perfectly healthy, nothing like what they had seen in the basement prior. "Caliban! Heel!"

Instantly, the creature shrunk, then sat happily wagging its tail.

"You fucking bitch! That thing WAS yours!" Bozza's whole world grew red with rage. That devious little whore! Pieto! Nikau! Her base! All her work! Her life! She gathered all her remaining mana for an alpha strike.

"No!" The Enforcer kept his head. He body-slammed Bozza, disrupting her spell. If the girl was indeed the summoner of that thing, he could hardly imagine the boon that awaited them. If their Master got their hands on her, he would no longer be an Enforcer, and Bozza would no longer be an Associate. They would be well within the Inner Circle!

"Phantasmal Killer!"

This time, the Enforcer pumped more than half of his remaining mana into the illusory attack. From what he had seen, the girl had issues, significant issues. She had been very susceptible to his last spell. With only half an hour between now and then, his new Illusion should be even more effective.

The spell worked. The girl suddenly grew rigid, then her ophidian de-materialised.

It was hers! His heart pounded. Holy shit! A dual-Element, dual-School Magus at her age? With those looks? He was going places now. Fuck this base; he was going to be a member of the Lord's retinue after this.

As the spell took hold, the girl collapsed onto the floor once more.

Bozza recovered from her fall, but her flash of anger quickly turned to clarity and gratitude. She was a smart woman. They worked well together.

"Fuck me, that was close," she apologised. "Thanks."

The Enforcer's heart almost burst in that final moment, but now everything was alright.

"This place is gone," he observed. "Let's get the girl and move out now."

"Alright, we—"

WHOMP!

Something caught the air. There was a flash of radiance and an abrupt gate opened across space and time in the Atrium. The two watched with open mouths as a Teleportation Array imprinted itself upon the debris-strewn floor.

A Demigod materialised in the middle of the array, filling the room with radiance, dispelling all shadow.

Gunther's cold blue eyes scanned his demesne, master of all he surveyed. He saw his sister-in-craft collapsed by the corridor to the basement, her dress torn, her bare legs soiled, her hair a mess.

His brows furrowed. The temperature in the room flashed.

Bozza and the Enforcer's hearts stopped.

"Which one of you is responsible for this?" A calm voice spoke as would the sun god, Apollo. "Prostrate yourselves and surrender or die."

Chapter forty-five

Crossroads

Farez Hamid, Enforcer for the Blackheath District, recognised the intruder.

Farez had been just a militiaman then, an up-and-coming Illusionist with an affinity for Air, with a freshly pressed commendation for his mastery of misdirection.

He distinctly recalled it was during Second Siege of the Brisbane Line that he first heard the name of Gunther von Shultz.

With the rest of the fresh meat, he was being hauled across the sound when a Dragon Turtle struck their barge. The ship rocked, and the novices had flung ineffective spells at the hateful creature. The boat couldn’t take another strike, and Farez wasn't a strong swimmer.

All had seemed lost until a blast of heavenly light had pierced the clouds, a god-ray that burned the air and turned the sea to steam. Where it had struck the beast, its scales melted and boiled.

The Dragon Turtle had retaliated with a breath-attack, but a secondary blast took its head clean off—a tier VII monstrosity, just like that. The recruits never saw who had saved them, but Farez was later informed that it was Gunther von Shultz.

During those days, Shultz and de Botton had been the big names on the Front. The first was an invincible superman, a Wing Commander at the age of twenty-five. The second was renowned for her ruthless violence, making Flight Lieutenant at the tender age of fifteen. They had both excelled in the taking of Portsea, racking up a quad-digit kill-count through fire and Mermen. Upon their return, Shultz was enlisted in a propaganda tour, and that was when Farez had met his saviour.

When Gunther had appeared, Farez had screamed his lungs out with the best of them. To think that such a man was fighting on their behalf! To be bathed in the light of such a personage, a man who had carved out a victory in blood and brimstone, was the closest he ever felt to God.

When Gunther had finally reached his squad, Farez reached out. He touched him! Farez touched Gunther von Shultz! He was so happy he could have cried.

Then to his shock, Gunther stopped. The Demigod turned his gaze upon Farez with the warmest, most understanding blue eyes he had ever beheld in his life.

"Thank you for your service, Warrant Officer… Farez Hamid."

He knew his name! Gunther von Shultz knew his name! As the man had left, Farez had wept. His friends had made fun of him, mirthfully punching him in the ribs. They didn't know, Farez laughed internally. They couldn't understand what it was like to touch that radiance.

That's Gunther Shultz! Farez's bulging eyes almost escaped their sunken sockets. What the fuck is Gunther von Shultz doing here?

Oh, shit. A terrible epiphany engendered in Farez's head like a gong. Is it for the girl?

The Teleportation Circle had faded by now. All Farez and Bozza could behold was the divine visage of Sydney Tower's Paladin striding towards them like a fabled colossus.

"Do you yield?" The question was entirely rhetorical.

ad Farez not endured years of anti-glamour training, he would have knelt right there and wept like a child. He saw Bozza fall to one knee, her eyes brimming with tears, and knew it was over before it began.

It was radiance. There was something in Gunther's aura. Was it an Enchantment or an Illusion?

In the next moment, the Geas embedded in Bozza activated. Like him, she could only serve a single Master, incapable of yielding even if she wanted to. At once, her head cleared.

"Fuck! What the hell was that?" Bozza shouted. She needn't have, there was no other sound in the room, but somehow, it felt like they were in a maelstrom.

"We're about to meet our maker," Farez intoned rather objectively. "Hey Boz, I want to tell you something."

"Is this the right time?" Bozza kept shouting, trying to Shield her eyes from the radiance. "We should be attacking the prick!"

"My name is Farez Hamid," he said.

Bozza gazed at Farez with a face full of incomprehension.

"What are you—" Bozza began, but she was cut off by Farez's next spell.

"Phantasmal Force!" The Illusionist manifested his spell with a bestial howl, pushing all his remaining mana into its invocation. A dozen phantom soldiers appeared from every direction to strike Gunther. It was Farez's most potent spell. It was also useless, he knew, but he had to try.

Gunther didn't even move. The Radiance around him shimmered. Without warning, holes appeared in every phantom that assailed him. There wasn't even a beam or a projectile; it was as if his soldiers had been perforated all along.

Farez didn't have to wait for Gunther's retribution. He hadn't even finished his gesticulation when he felt a sudden lightness. He watched, almost in slow motion, as his limbs fell away, the wounds cauterised and clean. He landed on the ground as a human stump, bereft of his bodily appendages.

Bozza's eyes stared in disbelief. Farez was the Enforcer! He was a Tier V Senior Mage! Who was this man they were facing? Were they fighting a god? A sun god?

Farez watched as Bozza turned to summon a shield, maybe trying to protect herself; perhaps trying to save him. It didn't matter. Her Shield disappeared. Her Body of Water didn't matter either. Her skin sizzled, and in the next instant, she was also bereft of limbs.

"I have questions for you. Later," Gunther stated mildly, then left to inspect the girl by the door.

He left! Farez snorted painfully. He wasn't even worth a moment of Gunther's time.

From the floor, he regarded Bozza, who was weeping. She was a strong woman but she finally understood. In front of real power, they were just worms.

"Hey, Boz," Farez called out to Bozza, whose eyes met his, wet with agony and despair. "What's my name?"

"Hamid. Farez." She said between gasps of air.

"Thanks, Boz," Farez replied, then waited quietly for the inevitable.

Gunther left the two assailants incapacitated. Between the loss of their limbs and the mental shock, they were capable of neither magic nor escape. He looked around the place, took in the surroundings, and felt a fit of monstrous anger.

Master Henry had made a terrible mistake in trusting Mark Chandler.

He walked over to where Gwen lay, picked her up from the floor, and wiped the debris from her limbs and her dress.

The girl was having a nightmare—her eyes were fluttering, her ocular muscles spasmed.

"Gwen, wake up," he intoned gently. His voice was radiance, full of texture and temperature. Warmth suffused her head, undoing the Phantasmal illusion.

His sister-in-craft's hazel eyes shot open. Gwen found herself in Gunther's arms, her white face refracted against his blue orbs. Her clothes were dishevelled, but she was warm and safe. it was over.

"I…" Gwen wailed weakly. "Gunther, I did it. I killed them all!" Her breath caught in her throat. Her face turned scarlet. "So… so much blood, Gunther. How… who'd thought there be so much blood in them?"

"It's okay," Gunther coddled her. "You did well."

There was a warning in his voice that made Gwen tense. She was a sensitive soul and she knew the feeling of the calm before the storm.

Gunther ushered a jolt of Radiant mana into his aura, silently activating a passive calming effect. The girl's shivering grew weaker until it ceased.

"Gwen, I need you to see this," he spoke to her softly. "Can you stand?"

"Yes. Sorry. There's something in the basement you need to see as well, brother," Gwen urged her senior sibling.

Gunther was glad that his sibling-in-craft seemed considerably more in control of her faculties. She was going to need it for what came next. "That's not important," he assured her. "This is."

He walked Gwen towards Bozza and Farez, two torsos lying on the dusty floor.

"I am going to ask you some questions, and you will answer them truthfully," Gunther spoke in a voice that was measured and kind. Not at all the tone of a man who had taken off eight limbs in the blink of an eye.

He did not wait for the slavers to affirm his demand.

"You, Illusionist," Gunther began. "Who do you work for?"

“Can’t say."

Suddenly, Farez's skin began to sizzle.

"Who do you work for?"

"I… argh! I… oh, God! Arrrrgh!!!"

"Who do you work for?"

"I can't! I can't!" The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"Hmmph," Gunther grunted. "A Geas. Fine. What were you going to do to Gwen?"

"Sell her." Farez gasped.

Gwen shuddered.

"Listen carefully, Gwen," Gunther commanded. "This is the answer you are looking for. What happens to those who get sold?"

"Rituals... training..."

"Hmmph!"

"Arrgh! Oh, gods! Oh, oh, oh!" There was now the smell of crisping fat.

"Breeding! For breeding! Or sacrifices! Or experiments! We take the heart blood! We extract their organs! They're Mage stock! Oh, please! I can't say more! Just kill me! Just kill me, Commander Shultz!"

Gwen blanched. Breeding. The man had said. Rituals. She wanted to hurl and vomit, but the contents of her stomach had been spent.

Gunther, on the other hand, blinked when the man said his name. "Are we acquainted?"

"I saw you once." Farez was hardly recognisable now, just a lump of ruinous flesh. "It was… it was at the parade in eighty-six. You said my name… we shook…"

Gunther searched through his memory. "Sergeant…Mahommed? No. Officer Hamid? I am sorry to see you in this state."

"Ha… ha. You don't know the half of it. There's nothing more I can say. Commander, a request before I die?"

Gunther furrowed his brows. "What do you need, Hamid?"

"Bozza, the woman next to me. She too is under Geas. Please give her a clean death. Not like me. She didn't see the war. She's not built like we are." Farez's voice was stronger now, louder, kept up only by adrenaline. "The other girl… Cantwell, she survived. She's in the second room. The monster, it spared her, please…"

His voice grew faint.

"Peace be with you, Farez."

"I am sorry."

"I am too, Sergeant Hamid," Gunther intoned grimly. "More than you know."

He left Gwen alone, then returned momentarily with Stacey. The girl remained groggy and out of her mind, unaware that she had escaped death more than once. Gunther could smell the Blue that lingered on her breath, that acrid scent which permeated her body and ate into her flesh. It was too late for the girl, he grunted. Those who awakened late seldom received the necessary talent or training to be competent. The Tower would be hard pressed to dedicate the resources required to restore her to normalcy. Not even Agnes had the means to fight off the lingering effects of such a deeply set addiction. He wondered if the girl could be used as a lesson in mercy for Gwen but decided against it. His sibling was not ready. She had another lesson to learn first.

"Gwen." Gunther turned to his sister-in-craft. He saw her body seize, a deer caught before a Fireball. She must have realised what he was about to ask.

"Gunther." Gwen's breath quickened, he could feel her heart pounding against her breast. "Gunther, I can't. That's a man, Gunther! That's a human being!"

"Finish him."

"Gunther, he is defenceless! I don't even know why you're torturing him; there are spells for interrogation, for truth…"

"They were going to sell you, Gwen. Use you for spare parts! Do you understand what that means? At best, you would be strapped to a ritual table and have your brain, your heart and your liver extracted. At worst…"

"Oh… Oh…" She was hyperventilating now.

"Finish it, sister!"

He placed a hand on her shoulder; his voice grew sonorous. "Do it now."

Gwen choked and sobbed, her hands trembling. At Gunther's behest, she allowed the spell to manifest in her mind. She was uttering the words before she knew it, wondering if this was what she wanted. The man was a mess of charred and boiled flesh. It was mercy.

"Lighting Bolt!"

A flash of plasma enveloped Farez. The man lay still.

"I am afraid I won't be able to keep that promise, Sergeant Hamid. I have a use for your companion," Gunther replied regretfully to the corpse. "I hope you make better choices in your next life."

A beam of light struck Farez. His corpse blazed for a few bright seconds before turning to ash. Another glance from Gunther and his fallen limbs cremated as well. Two rings and an amulet dropped to the floor.

Gunther retrieved them before turning to Bozza.

"Please." She sobbed uncontrollably. "I can't tell you anything."

Gunther regarded Gwen's face, now numb with shock. The girl likely had always thought death clean, not obscene.

"Finish what you have begun."

"No, Gunther, I can't do it again."

"You must. It is your duty. Bozza was dead the moment you chose to walk into her den. Do you understand that?"

Gwen stared at Gunther, conflict etched all over her face.

"This is also a part of the Credo, the one you so thoughtlessly flaunted before Master. You said that you would harry the foxes, frighten the wolves and slaughter the tigers that barred your way. You wanted to fear no vengeance. Here is where you do it, Gwen! Open your eyes!"

He watched the girl's laboured breathing, observing her struggle against hysteria.

"You do, don't you?" The question was rhetorical.

Her reaction validated his suspicion that Gwen was different. He had told Alesia just that when she'd asked what he thought of their little sister-in-craft. The girl was improbably thoughtful. As far as he knew, Gwen had had a torturous upbringing under a malevolent mother, an apathetic father, and the threat of a talented brother. She had never lived in a tier one city. Frontier folk like her lived under the constant assumption that life was scant and temporal.

The way Gwen reacted to her surroundings, the training and killing—it was like she had grown up in a walled garden, a place without violence or bloodshed.

That naivety was suicide. She would have to learn fast.

"Do it," Gunther commanded, dropping another sliver of mana into Radiant Command.

Crack!

Another lightning bolt. Bozza screamed.

"Again."

Crack!

Another. Bozza was stronger than she looked.

Fool! He grunted. The girl was resisting, pulling her punches. She was now both stupid and cruel. He had only empowered his words with suggestions. Perhaps he should enforce the command? No. That would be beside the point. "Where's your mercy, Gwen? Do you find joy in her suffering?"

He could see the girl trying her best to rationalise her resistance. "The dead, Gunther! Those bodies—don't they pluck out your eyes?! I can't. We can't do this. We can't wash our hands with excuses! The blood of our victims will dye the emerald sea incarnadine! Blood will have blood! To murder a human being… The dead will have their day!"

Words. Powerful words. Gunther felt his immovable soul shaken and stirred. Gwen had a way with words. Master liked that about her. Words had power. But without conviction, the girl’s sentiments were sophistry, the cawing of a mewling girl playing at philosophy.

Unlike his Master, Gunther had little love for the girl. She was talented, but she was also naive, stupid, suicidal. A Mage of Gwen's potential was a terrible temptation for the wolves. Only violence would keep her safe. Kindness? Compassion? She would drown in it.

He would give her one more chance.

"These people had designs upon you, Gwen, whether you will or no. The mere fact that you appeared in their lives sealed their fate. Either you were bound and sold like chattel, and they burned — or you survived, grew stronger for your troubles, and they burned. They were dead the moment you walked in. Did you think this was going to end amicably? That they were going to be imprisoned?"

He watched the battle unfold over her tortured face.

Finally, she met his eyes.

"Do it!"

"Lightning Blast!"

There was no need for his Radiant Command; the choice was hers. He watched her pour wave after wave of mana into the channelled spell.

There was very little of Bozza left when the plasma had cleared. Another blast of cremating flames from him cleared any signs that Bozza had ever existed, save for a single Storage Ring.

"Good work." Gunther pressed Gwen's wilting body against his chest, feeling the beat of her heart against his own. "You must always remember this feeling. What must you do?"

"Finish what I have begun."

"Repeat it."

"Finish what I have begun.”

“Good girl.”

Gunther retrieved Bozza's ring. “Now, let's go and see our Master. Somebody must pay for what has happened here."

"What of the bodies, Gunther?" Gwen asked. "There… there are so many of them."

"Hmmph." Gunther closed his eyes for a moment. Gwen felt a sudden rise in the temperature. The walls around them combusted into flames. Suddenly, the whole building was on fire. Her brother's flame was not the fire of the mortal realm, but destruction wrung from the Elemental Planes, the very stuff stolen from the gods themselves. Gunther's was a cleansing blaze that would wipe all sin from Gwen's blighted land.

She watched the world burn.

When she had realised what Caliban had done, her first thought was to lock herself up in a deep dark cave and never emerge back into the world of men. Perhaps she would leave the city, travel into the Wildlands? She could live amongst the savage races of the stone-formed Goblins and the malignant Orcs.

Then, when she had come closer to the atrium, she had felt the telepathic link between her and Caliban re-establish. Oh, what visions flooded her mind! It was as if she was Caliban itself, striking her victims with unadulterated joy, boring through their screaming chests and emerging with mouthfuls of warm flesh! She felt an orgiastic jolt of vitality feed into her, replenishing what Caliban had taken. She felt satiated— but it was not like the satiation offered by a hearty meal. It was the satisfaction of something ancient, something dark, something that was devouring men a millennia before Mages had discovered the first mote of mana; a gibbering bestial joy!

Caliban had fed on others, but Gwen fed on her Familiar. Hungry! Caliban had cried out, and now she, who had once been content with mortal food, now desired the hearts of men.

No! Gwen scolded herself. No! She couldn’t lose herself to this thing. She would not let Caliban override her ego, assume her animus. Heel, she had cried out. Caliban! HEEL!

She hadn't resisted the Phantasmal Killer when it struck her mind. She welcomed the darkness; a respite from the hunger brought by wayward Caliban. She shunted the slithering Void beast into its planar cage. The abyssal worm was hers and hers alone—she gave it purpose and existence and she would not lose control of it ever again.

Then she was out like a light, and when her sanity returned, she was murdering her first human being face-to-face.

"Do it now!" he told her.

Gunther pried open her eyes and Gwen was made to see the truth hidden in the winding dark. Attached to her wrist, her hand had felt like a stranger's, an alien appendage distended from her body.

"They were dead the moment you appeared in their lives. Did you think this was going to end amicably?"

Gwen knew she was wrong, but she had hoped. She was going to defeat the evil men, but she wasn't going be there for the aftermath. That had been her naivety. She had thought that she was going to save the girl and that was the end of it. Was it meant to be more complicated than that?

But Gunther was right. There came a time when an individual must take account of her own choices. Assume her own stories.

She raised a hand toward the whimpering slaver.

The old Gwen is dead. Long live Gwen, murderer, her hands smeared in the snail-sheen fat of slaughter; for all the perfumes of Arabia will never sweeten her fingers again.

Chapter forty-six

Scar Tissue

For the fifth time, Agnes had to intervene, preventing Henry and Mark from saying something that neither of them could take back. At first, Surya had aided her, but after Mark had accused his granddaughter of being a Void-tainted calamity, the old Enchanter became firmly entrenched with team Kilroy.

Had there always been this much vitriol hidden beneath it all? Agnes wondered if, after all these years, she had known her friends at all. In her mind, nothing could change the fact that they were companions, comrades, mutual survivors.

With Surya, she had kept in contact often, meeting for luncheons now and then. Henry was too busy managing the controlled chaos of the Tower, but he had made an effort. Mark ran his own Agency two doors down, sharing a working relationship with Agnes, who fed him information and the latest news from her contacts and clients.

When Henry had called them all to meet at Mark’s den, Agnes had had no idea that the friction between him and Mark had escalated to such a boiling point. That had been clear as pure mana when she had walked into the loft; walking between them was akin to pushing past a mana shield.

Mark sat at his table, brooding. Henry sat on a chair made by Sufina, scowling. Surya sat in another corner, a young assistant behind him, grumbling.

How is the terrace still standing? Agnes wondered. If this had been her bordello, the place would have collapsed.

The heart of the problem was Gwen. Agnes understood that, but that was simplifying a complicated matter, like blaming a bushfire on a single lightning strike.

Gwen was merely the spark. The fuel of regret and undisclosed desires had been falling for years, piling and piling until it was bone-dry and knee-deep. From what Agnes recalled, the old boys had kept their problems to themselves, typical of military men. They had never engaged in a back-burning of their pent-up grievances, and now the Wall of Fire was ten metres tall.

Agnes felt that she should shoulder some of the blame—she had provided the quest, after all, but how could she have known? According to Henry, it should have been a comedy of errors, giving his whelp a taste of the real world. Gwen was supposed to return with a scraped knee, maybe upset, likely sullen, moaning about the disparity between NoMs and Mages.

As it turned out, Mark had been fermenting a great mea culpa to prove Henry wrong once and for all.

Her fault was that she had left all the intelligence to Mark. After all, he was the Diviner of the bunch, one of the best scryers in the city. Mark had told her the usual—ruffians, the homeless, a few desperate souls who would try to have a go at Gwen, that Stacey was up to her usual troubles, flirting with the Blue on her return trip home. It was supposed to be educational, eye-opening, didactic. Gwen was to gain a broader perspective, question if she could stomach the ugliness of it all; understand the circumstances of those without her advantage. Henry even had a speech prepared; his favourite subject—the responsibilities of those who are great and the limitations of its exercise.

Then, of course, reality blew open the door with a Fireball.

According to a seething Henry, who was burning up his vitality like a screeching kettle, Gwen had run headfirst into Mage stock harvesters. A den of slavers, and not just any slavers either. It was a branch which belonged to rogue Mages, a shadowy collective of invested parties run by Outlanders and covertly supported by the Houses, the military and prominent industrialists. Usually, the Tower turned a blind eye, stamping their feet only when necessary. Henry's Faction knew that as long as NoM ghettos existed, these sorts of things were unavoidable. But did that excuse Mark’s actions?

So they bickered. The mightiest Magister in Sydney, a decorated Diviner Magus and an old Enchanter, bickering like old men with dementia at an asylum, ranting about the past.

“Shut up! ALL OF YOU!” she shouted at them. “Where is Gwen now?”

“Gunther is teleporting back as we speak,” Henry replied, his tone decisively glacial.

“Then we wait,” Agnes remarked with exasperation. “Tell her the whole story. You should learn to see past your noses, for fuck's sake.”

Henry and Surya grunted and grumbled, glaring at one another with unfriendly expressions. It was only Mark whose eyes gave Agnes the shivers.

But for now, they waited.

A teleportation circle blazed and died in the basement of the terrace. Gunther brushed the silvery motes from Gwen's hair and clothes. In his other arm, Stacey was still undressed and incoherent, so the Radiant Mage found a guest room, wrapped her in a blanket, then glamoured her to sleep.

Her brother-in-craft returned to her with a towel, then likewise wrapped it around her shoulders as they made the torturous journey up the narrow stairs.

Before she had reached the top, she felt the pressure of projected mana in the air. It was only by retreating against Gunther that she could proceed.

“Gwen!” Surya’s voice called out. “My cucu perempuan! What have they done to you?”

Gwen rushed from Gunther’s arms to fall into her grandfather’s embrace. "Opa!"

She wanted to bury her head in his chest, but her opa was too short and bony. Instead, the man awkwardly embraced her, giving the impression that she was the one providing comfort. The others watched, some smiling, others expressionless.

“I brought a friend.” Surya pointed to a girl behind him.

Gwen confusedly looked past Surya, before seeing a familiar visage behind them. That well-tanned skin, that tall, lithe figure, that shoulder length hair which had finally grown out.

“Debora!” Gwen couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Gwen.” Debora smiled nervously at her friend. The girl looked nervous. She was in front of rare and eminent presences, even if they sounded like bickering children at this moment.

“How?”

“I was interning with a famous Transmuter who happened to be your grandfather. When this whole thing happened…” Debora held Gwen's hand. “I volunteered to come as soon as I heard.”

“Oh. Oh! Debbie!”

Gwen left her grandfather’s gangly canoodle for Debora. The two girls embraced. Their similar builds and height allowed Gwen to bury her face and feel the envelopment of something soft and familiar. It was what she needed; not the embrace of a patriarch nor a mentor, but someone on her level. In return, Debora likewise held Gwen close to her, the two girls sharing a moment of empathy.

They were interrupted by a displeasing snort. “Perhaps we should proceed with this show trial?” Mark demanded sardonically.

The girls separated. Sufina summoned a bench, then joined them. She likewise gave Gwen a tight, albeit wooden hug, then offered her a mug of golden mead. Despite been flanked by two allies, Gwen continued to shiver uncontrollably.

When finally she looked up to meet Mark’s bespectacled, myopic eyes, her blood boiled. I trusted this man! But he had sent her out on a suicide mission! Was he not her Master’s and Grandfather’s friend and ally? Opa had said that this man had saved his life innumerable times! Why had he done this?

The anger was empowering. Gwen straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, then sat defiantly forward.

“Why did you send me there?” she invoked imperially, her suddenly severe tone of voice raising a few brows. “You told me nothing. I was told to pick up Stacey but there was no intelligence. Nay, I should say, you misled me on purpose!”

The transformation from mewling girl to stoic prosecutor seemed to catch them all by surprise. Gunther raised a brow.

“You were sent to be tested, Gwen,” Mark replied without emotion. “And so you were.”

“That’s a crock of roo shit!” Surya protested loudly.

“Mark, enough with your pedantry!” Henry likewise interjected.

“You accuse me of a crime whose origins lie in your blindness. We’re in this because of your hubris!” Mark fired back!

“How dare you! Who do you think you are?” Henry scoffed.

“I know that I am not one of the Ten, but so what?" Mark retorted. "Are you going to exile me? Put me in Isolation? Strip me of rank and membership?”

“Shut up, both of you!” Agnes once again had to step in. She adjusted a hair that fell out of place. “Gwen, I am sure you’re as confused about this as anyone could be, so I am going to speak. The rest of you shut up until I finish, or I swear…”

Gunther moved behind Henry. Mark shot him an unfriendly glance but kept silent. Surya nodded to Agnes from his seat. Henry sat without movement or expression, conserving his limited energy.

This scene looked familiar, Gwen suddenly realised, trying to think of an analogy from her old world. The three wise men? No, more akin to the three monkeys—eyes, mouth and ears— arrogance, ignorance and hubris.

Agnes took a deep breath, organising her thoughts. She walked around the room, eyes scanning for an old memento to jog her mind. A lumen-pic lying amongst the bric-a-brac caught her eye. Removing it from the wall, she presented it to Gwen, pointing to each of the individuals within the sepia image.

There was a stern but handsome-looking middle-aged man with a tailored moustache. “This is Henry, your Master.”

Then there was a young man with a face like a skull wearing a dark expression, “This is Mark.”

There was an old man with her opa's face. “This is Surya. He looks old because he is ugly.”

“Hey!”

“Shut it!”

Surya grumbled.

Next was a young woman with an intrusive cleavage, a heart-shaped face and light eyes. “This is yours truly.”

Strangely, Agnes did not point to the last woman but instead to a girl who was in the background. She was cut off, but Gwen could see her bright and innocent face behind Henry.

"This is Jane Chandler, lovely lass." Agnes paused. "She is Mark's sister."

The room said nothing.

Agnes then finally pointed to the last woman—a sullen-looking girl with dark hair and bright eyes. She had a small but well-proportioned frame, a compact torso with long limbs. Despite her demure, downcast gaze, she was uncommonly pretty. Gwen knew girls like that; their neediness drove men's protective instincts wild with possessiveness.

“And finally, this is the source of all our troubles—Elizabeth Winsted Sobel.”

The room held its breath. Gwen was sure someone was going to disrupt the peace, though both Henry and Mark held their tongue.

“She is… or I should say 'was' a Void mage like you, Gwen."

There was a sucking-in of breath. Debora gasped, staring at Gwen with her eyes wide open. She squeezed Debbie's hand, promising to explain later. She found it ironic that Debora, her once-rival, would be the first of her friends to know the truth.

Agnes paused awkwardly, looking towards Henry. The Master of the Tower waved a hand casually, allowing her to continue.

“So, before we go any further, I want to make this very clear,” Agnes resumed her disclosure. “The origin which has sparked your incident, Gwen, is no fault of yours. You are the innocent party in this, regardless of these old men's personal opinions, understand?”

Gwen did not understand, at least not yet, but she nodded.

Mark snorted sarcastically, drawing glares from the others.

Right.” Agnes nodded. “So here it goes…

“The five of us were some of the first Mages sent into that hellhole known as the Brisbane Line. We didn’t have the know-how of urban combat or wilderness survival back then, so the attrition rate was high. To give you a bit of a history lesson, the Coral Sea War started in the fifties, by the time the seventies rolled around, we were on conscription by lottery. You know what that is, right?”

The girls affirmed that they did. Mandatory Military Service for Mages evolved from those early days of conscription.

“Good. There was five of us. Three of us were Australian locals, Henry came from a tier one city, although he had been in the country for a half a decade, Elizabeth was originally from London. Not only that, she was only with us because of Henry…"

The situation had deteriorated faster than the weather changed in the jungle. The orders that came through were to hold the Line at all costs. Unfortunately, the Militia had already conceded the northern half of Queensland, losing hundreds of Mages with every kilometre pushed back. The new front was their wall, behind which was Brisbane city. There were no more lines of retreat.

First came the Rippers and the Goannas, mere fodder with teeth and claw, testing the barriers and wasting the Mages' mana. Then came the siege breakers, spear points of heavily armoured Saurians, cunning and fearless in their savagery. When the Mages were at breaking point, the wyverns came from the skies, breathing acid.

What started as a Purge for the reclamation of lost land quickly become a rout. Humanity had stirred the hornet's nest.

Henry could sense his section collapsing through Sufina's root tendrils. He was a plant Magus, a rare and powerful magician in this forested battlefield, but even he had his limits.

Agnes was already exhausted, having churned out Fireball after Fireball, reducing a whole chunk of the swarm to cinders. Mark was still giving out commands via Telepathy and Shared Mind, trying to bolster the men's courage with buffs and relaying the injured to the triage station. He hadn't slept for days; his eyes were deeply sunken in the sockets of his gaunt face.

Surya was meditating, trying to recoup his mana. He had spent it bolstering their defences with Iron Skin and Mass Resist Elements.

Then there was Elizabeth. Poor Elizabeth. She had left the shelter of London city for Henry and now she was stuck in this living Frontier hell. She was an Evoker, an Air element prodigy, but even then, she was woefully underprepared for the brutality of the trenches. Before Brisbane, she had been the sort of girl who showered twice a day and took hour-long baths; the type who like to hold conversations over tea and cupcakes. Now, his “Lillybird” was matted with blood and ichor, her once flawless skin covered with cuts and infected rashes.

Henry watched her fire off another volley, taking down a wyvern rider before it could drop its cargo of acid. Their eyes met, and he saw her unravelling sanity; a sense of unbalanced despair that hinted at the horrors churning in her mind.

"Fuck!" Agnes fell back into the trench, a barbed arrow lodged in her shoulder. "This shit better not be poisoned."

"You know it is," Surya remarked worriedly. "When did your buff run out?"

"Don't know." Agnes winced.

Surya scrummaged through his bag and produced a potion. "The last one. Better make it count."

Agnes grunted and pushed the arrow through, snapping the mid-section. She poured a bit of the potion onto the orifice in her shoulder, then chugged the rest.

"Sufina!" Henry commanded.

The dryad appeared beside them, channelling a stream of controlled positive energy into the wound.

Agnes watched her flesh mend, leaving behind a welting red scar. "Good enough," she spat between grinding teeth. "Hate how that itches so much. It’s worse than the pain."

A Message came through. The line had collapsed all over. The Militia was bringing up the last of the reserves, but it was to be a final stand. Their section was forfeit, but a retreat was suicide. They might as well make it easier for the junior Mages, knowing that every additional lizard they took down was pure profit.

Mark dispelled the Glyph; the Message no longer mattered.

"We're the only section left for in this region," he stated without any particular emotion, grinning stoically. "I guess this is where we say our last words."

"Wall of Fire!" Agnes used up the last of her mana and brought them a few more minutes.

The team regarded one another, the orange flames casting a warm glow over their exhausted faces.

"It was a pleasure working with you all," Mark began.

"You've all been more real to me than my half-dozen brother and sisters," Agnes continued.

"I rather not die," Surya said sullenly. "But I couldn't have asked for better company."

“It's been a pleasure and an honour," Henry added.

"..." Elizabeth had nothing to add. Henry moved to embrace her, feeling his lover reciprocate woodenly. This is fine. He thought of an old propaganda piece. Not everyone can drink danger as ’twere wine of life, and jest as we reel and fall.

"I'll protect you to the very end, Liz," Henry promised. "The very end."

"I need a glass of water," Agnes said.

"I’ve got better." Henry motioned to Sufina, who palmed over a wooden cup of golden mead.

"The stuff of heroes!" Agnes cheered. "Imagine if we’d had this back in the day. We could have kept going for weeks.”

Agnes drained the cup.

“Alright. Just as we were about to find out if there was a god up there. One of the Saurian Behemoths broke through the Wall of Fire. That thing couldn't give two shits about my spell; it came over the wall with a mouth full of Mages still screaming and shouting. Then it swung its head and we were covered in bloody pieces of our old mates."

"As you can imagine, that was pretty terrifying. I mean, fuck, dying is dying— but being eaten alive? Getting turned into lizard shit? That's a piss poor way to go. Anyway, just as we were wondering if we could go for a suicide attack, Lizzy finally lost her marbles. She started screaming about how she didn’t want to be eaten alive, how we should kill her first and spare her the trouble.”

At the mention of Elizabeth, Mark’s softening face once again became rigid.

“We weren’t going to kill her of course, the rest of us were going to fight to the last man. Hell, even if I’d wanted to, Henry would have stopped me. She then grabbed Henry and started screaming hysterically. ‘Kill me! Kill me, please! For fuck’s sake don’t let me be eaten!’ I still remember it as clear as yesterday.”

The group grew silent once more. Agnes was a good actress. That desperate plea was as authentic as if they had listened to Elizabeth’s hysteria in person.

“Then Henry went down, just like that. None of us knew what was going on at the time. We had thought it was a poison dart. Sufina started going nuts, saying that something was draining her life. Then the Behemoth stamped out the flames and bam, the Swarm was upon us. That was it, fucked to the bitter end.”

"Of course, we're all here now, so no spoilers," Agnes continued when Gwen audibly gasped. "Especially not for you, Gwen. You can probably guess what happened next. Liz must have awoken to her Void element because when she channelled everything she had into a suicidal Air Vortex, she instead popped open a black hole into the Quasi-elemental Plane of the Void."

A what?! Gwen wanted to call Agnes out there and then. No amount of magic could create the gravitational pull of a collapsing star! But then she realised that this was not a black hole in the scientific sense, but an unstable portal into the vacuum of the Void Plane.

"Everything got sucked up in there. Trees, grass, rocks, Rippers. Have you ever seen a lizard the size of a house sucked into a hole the size of a coffee table? Messy, very, very messy. The Saurians were going nuts! They just kept coming at it and it just kept sucking. The whole while though, Sufina was feeding her life force into Henry and Liz was drinking him up like a milkshake!"

"That horrid woman," Sufina recalled some rather unpleasant memories.

Henry shook his head.

"Anyway, we lived." Agnes reached for another drink.

“That’s a light way to put it,” Surya blurted out. "We were this close to drifting into the vacuum of another world, Agnes. You make it sound like we ate some bad kebabs. Come on, you gotta dramatise it a little more.”

“Shut up, Surya,” Agnes snarled. “So we were expecting to join the Saurians and that’s when Surya confessed to me. He told me that he wanted to die between my breasts.”

Surya choked trying to swallow his cup of water.

There were some chuckles. Agnes continued her story.

“Then, as quick as it had started, it was all over, we had cleared out half the swarm in our section and the rest were making a run for it. Bam! Mission accomplished. A whole Battalion's work, done in ten minutes by one black hole.”

Of course, Liz was burned out, as was Henry. None of us was sure what had happened, so we carried them back to the line. It wasn't until months after the fact that we found out the Saurians worshipped the sun god, so when a black hole that drank all light ate half their shock troops… you get the idea.”

"When we finally got back to base and healed up, Liz told us that she had awoken to something. Some form of Negative Energy. She wanted us to keep it a secret because we hadn’t seen anything like it before. She didn't want to get taken in and dissected, probed, cut up."

"If we had reported her, it would have been the end of it," Mark said suddenly.

"Yeah well, hindsight's twenty-twenty, hey?" Agnes retorted. "Lizzy was still our mate back then. She was a little moody and not very brave, but she was as good a sheila as any in a tight spot. At any rate, if a mate of yours didn't want somebody probing her gut, who were we to refuse? She’d just saved all our arses!”

"We were expecting to lose Brisbane, and now suddenly, we were the victors. All because of Commander Kilroy. No one had seen what happened and Henry concocted some bull about us killing a high priest. I mean, we had a few thousand Saurian bodies around us, not to mention there was a mostly chewed-up behemoth right in front of our trench! When they picked through the bodies, there were at least half a dozen Saurian priests.”

"We got promoted, we got bonuses, our families got relocated to safer zones. We were drunk on our success. No one knew how we did it, only that we did it and we saved the day. Things were simpler back then—no Towers, no supremacists, no Grey Factions, no Shadow Guilds, none of this Spectre bullshit. People were trying to survive, NoMs and Mages. They started trotting us out for propaganda. We didn't complain; we were like celebrities."

"Big mistake." Surya sighed.

"No shit." Mark spat cynically. "They separated us. We had to go to different zones and support the troops. That was the beginning of the end."

"Henry tried to stay with Elizabeth as often as he could, but he was being groomed to be a bigwig. Liz was the darling of the bunch. She was well-spoken, from a good family in a tier one city; a real poster girl, you know? Y'all think I look good? You haven't seen a real doll until you've seen Liz in that dress uniform. I heard they cut her hem two inches higher, and recruitment was up ten percent. Man, she was a knockout."

Henry smiled nostalgically. Mark's face grew darker.

"Anyway, they sent her out to F.O.B.s to rally the troops and all that. Mark transferred to the intelligence division. Henry stayed on at H.Q. I wanted to retire, so I had no part in all that glam."

"What was Opa doing?" Gwen asked curiously.

There was an awkward silence.

"I was drunk," Surya said at last. "We lost a lot of friends."

Agnes nodded understandingly. "I was with him for a while…"

Surya turned beet red. "I confessed to your grandmother later."

Agnes coughed.

"Anyway, while on Propaganda duty, the base came under attack. Not Saurians this time, but Mermen. Apparently, they didn't believe in the Saurian's story about some angry sun god. Go figure, right? Then stuff happened."

"Stuff happened?" Gwen looked at them confusedly. Why the vague detail now?

"Yep, stuff, because no one knows. Elizabeth Winsted Sobel was the only person to return from that base—a single woman out of five hundred Mages and two thousand-odd NoMs."

"Not no one," Mark interjected suddenly. "Somebody knew, but Marshall Kilroy covered it up."

“And just how do you know?" Gwen demanded. Mark had been away in the intelligence division. Had he been stalking Elizabeth?

"I know, " Mark spat between clenched teeth, "because my sister was on that base when it all happened."

Spak!

There was a crack. A hairline fracture appeared in Mark's gold-rimmed spectacles.

Opposite Mark, Henry brooded. His throat bobbed once or twice, but he ultimately elected to say nothing.

When Mark next spoke, his voice held the enmity of a Blade Barrier. "Assuming Master Kilroy doesn't silence me in the next ten minutes, let me tell you the monstrous truth hidden from the world!"

Chapter forty-seven

Skeletons

Mark reached into the deep-set drawer of his mahogany table and produced something wrapped in a dark aubergine cloth. He placed it carefully upon the table, smoothing its edges. With great care, he began to unfold the fabric, revealing a dark crystal globe which contained a swirling, grey mist.

Gunther was the first to react. He was up in an instant and a shimmer of radiance surrounded Henry and Gwen with a wave of his hand.

"Master Chandler, Necromancy is an offence punishable with life imprisonment." Gunther's warning was tinged with uncharacteristic malice, betraying his usual stoicism.

"Mark, are you insane?" Surya swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Why do you have a Death Orb? And more importantly, who do you have in there?"

Agnes nervously snuck a glance towards Henry.

The Geneva Convention had strictly forbidden Necromancy after the Undead crisis of WWI. Any Mage caught in possession of Necromantic charms faced severe punishment with extreme prejudice. The minimum for the practice of Death Magic was exile, while the maximum sentence was execution.

Even Gwen knew of the dangers of Necromancy, for one of the first lessons taught in high school was the history of the Undead crisis which lost the human race almost half of its population, begun the great exodus from central Europe, and lead to the establishment of the Frontier Cities. Now, in front of Gwen, was an actual relic from that era. A Death Orb, an artefact used to pluck individual souls from the aether and entrap them for the pleasure and perusal of the Necromancer.

In the next few seconds, Gwen could see her Master consider his options. As Lord of the Tower, he was well within his rights to silence Mark right that instant. The moment Mark had shown the orb, it was the beginning of the end.

But Mark also knew Henry would listen—it was in the Tower Master's character to do so. The others likewise awaited Henry's decision patiently. The question that burned upon their minds, however, was what Mark hoped to accomplish with the orb.

"Not going to silence me, then?" Mark asked sardonically in that steady voice of his, testing Henry.

Henry closed his eyes as if in meditation.

"You may regret this yet." Mark smirked. "But before we begin, there are those of us here who have yet to know the truth. Agnes? Perhaps you can enlighten the subject of our little debacle, our very own Acolyte of the Void, as to how exactly her predecessor faired?”

"Henry?" Agnes asked carefully. Henry was their friend, of course, but he was still the Master of the Tower, the highest authority in the land. If the Tower was going to censor them or act on Henry's behalf, there was little they could do.

Who was Agnes but a retired Evoker and a Madam in a bordello, and Mark, a Diviner with scant favours to call? They were no match for Henry. Hell, if things got ugly, they were no match for Gunther, who could be done with them in less than a minute, leaving behind no evidence of a struggle.

Henry opened his eyes and, to their surprise, he was tranquil—there was no upset in his eyes, nor any particular sadness.

“What’s to come, will come,” Henry said slowly. “To even resort to Necromancy…” He turned to Mark. “Perhaps it is indeed time to raise skeletons from their shallow graves. Allow me to take over the tale for a while, Agnes.”

Her Master turned to Gwen. “Child, I am about to reveal something that is very precious to me. It is not a pleasant tale. There are no happy endings. And so, I ask for your understanding.”

“Of course, Master,” Gwen replied politely, watching the weathered lines on his face.

They waited for Henry to gather his thoughts.

“Officially, the Massacre at Noosa Heads has but one survivor. The Hero of the Brisbane Line, Elizabeth W. Sobel. She was recovered by a taskforce sent to investigate the incident.”

“I led that taskforce. A group of translocation specialists and I reached the area by nightfall. The base had been destroyed in its entirety. There was a semi-spherical inlet which had formed, now filled with the sea. Everything was gone, washed away—no buildings, no Mage, no NoMs and no Mermen remained. There wasn’t even anything underwater. Just smooth bedrock, sand and whatever the ocean washed in. Further out to sea, we found a dead Kraken, most of it was missing; by then it had already been the victim of a feeding frenzy.”

“We found Elizabeth the same evening, wounded but holding steady, hiding in a cavern. Sufina administered healing and we returned with her to the city, thinking ourselves lucky that she survived. God knows I was.”

"As I was the Marshall, I put myself in charge of investigation. It was a hot mess. Five hundred Mages dead, over four hundred were cadets, most from influential families who had thought the school safe. Mothers and fathers wanted justice and I had to give them something. At that stage, all I could do was ask Lizzy.”

"According to Elizabeth, they had been attacked by a Kraken which broke through the shielding of the base. She had been with Jane, Mark's sister, having tea at the mess when the building had folded in on itself, trapping the officers inside. Elizabeth protected Jane but had to use most of her vitality to Void shield the two of them through the falling concrete slabs.”

"When they finally dug themselves out, the battle was in full force. The Kraken was tearing the place apart, penetrating the base's defences by ripping out the embedded Glyphs from the buildings themselves. There was chaos everywhere, Mermen were killing the students and the teachers couldn't hold them back. I wasn't there, so Elizabeth couldn’t use her powers without draining her life. She eventually made it to the crystal storage depot. Using her powers to slip through the gates, she tainted the crystals with motes of Void. Elizabeth told Jane to flee, but the Kraken was upon them. The behemoth blew through the walls of the bunker and Elizabeth had to make a call or die a needless death. With no other choice, she detonated the containers, and the resulting explosion took out everything in the vicinity. She made a Void Shield with the last of her strength but was unable to cover Jane. When she woke up, everything was gone, and she was adrift on a newly formed beach, with the tide coming in.”

"That's the story we all heard," Surya informed Gwen. "At that time, there was no reason to doubt her. This was the Elizabeth we had known for years—she’d never lied to us or cheated us before and we didn't see why we should start suspecting her now."

"Ha!" Mark chortled.

"So, back to the trial," Henry continued. "The families of the victims demanded a scapegoat, someone to blame, so the brass suggested Elizabeth. I was so angry, furious. How did that even make sense? I knew, we knew, that Elizabeth had Void magic, but they didn’t! They were purely using her to cover their intelligence failure.”

“Then there was a rumour which started, a rather truthful one, that suggested that the destruction at the cove matched the very same one that Elizabeth and the group had made during the Brisbane Line incident. People started to join the dots, and some members of the brass were baying for her blood, saying that she was somehow responsible. They wanted me—me! —to prosecute her. I felt helpless, even as the Marshall.”

“But then, we had a lucky break. The Mermen withdrew! They retreated like the Saurians! There was such a thing as seizing the moment, so I did the only thing I could. Elizabeth and I went to the British Mageocracy. We showed them how her power worked and what she could do. We even agreed to limited testing and experimentation. They were impressed, extremely impressed, excited at the potential game changer it represented. Suddenly, all the voices calling for her to go on trial silenced. She was now a priceless asset. I pleaded her case. The tribunal reviewed the evidence and found it in Elizabeth’s favour.

"Then our troubles began,” Henry announced with a slight shake of his head. "We had no idea what using Void magic continually did to Elizabeth, only that we went on many missions, racked up victory after victory, drunk on our success."

"What was Mark doing this whole time?" Gwen interjected suspiciously.

"I was away," Mark's voice trembled, full of anticipation. "I was here and there, but insignificant in any way. Pray, continue.”

Her Master continued. “Elizabeth and I married a month later. We had always planned to get married after the propaganda tour, and we were now in it for the long haul. Agnes was the bridesmaid and Surya was my best man. Mark was indisposed. It was a small, private ceremony, very romantic. We needed each other, both in love and in craft. The others came to call us the dynamic duo."

Gwen performed a double-take, choking on her water. Debora eased her breathing by patting Gwen's back.

Sufina produced another cup of mead for Henry, who drank it, then closed his eyes for a long while to recuperate his strength. The room was silent bar Mark’s incessant tapping of his feet.

After a while, Henry opened his eyes and began to speak once more. “We performed whatever missions the council set for us, travelled all around the world at the behest of this party and that government, serving Her Majesty and the Commonwealth however we could.

“When the war took a lull in the mid-seventies, we applied for a conditional discharge. Humanities’ lands were being reclaimed all over the world, and as Magister and Magus with a long service record, we had the option of staying anywhere we liked, as long as it was away from tier one cities.

“We wanted somewhere away from it all, so we choose Eger, a Hungarian township an hour’s flight from Budapest. No one knew us there and we barely spoke the language. It was perfect. I bought a vineyard outside of town, hired a dozen NoMs as servants, and we set ourselves up as minor aristocracy from the Commonwealth. Elizabeth seemed to like the country air; really took to it. In fact, her constitution had always been weak after Brisbane, but she appeared to get better…”

Henry caressed the brittle flowers in the vase. The once vibrant bouquet crumbled into dry flakes of brown-grey dust. He sighed, searched for a dustpan, then patiently swept the remains away.

He placed his suitcase by the open kitchen and walked through the long hallway toward the bedrooms. The region had once belonged to the long-gone Ottoman Empire, and the architecture of the vineyard had retained its Baroque influence. The hallway was a crisscrossing network of light and shadow, alternatively lit in bright sunlight and stark silhouette.

Outside, he could see the NoMs tending to the grapes, row upon rows of stakes pregnant with green vines, drawing as far as the eye could see until it bent across the horizon. As a hobby, Henry had tried his hand at winemaking in the months since they’d arrived. Unfortunately, his talent lay only in finding and drinking the most exceptional vintage stowed in the cellar.

It was a slice of paradise, a place of their own. Henry knew the bliss was ephemeral, but the respite of the moment was difficult to let go.

How long had they fought the beasts that came from the Wildlands? Two decades? He felt as though he hadn’t stopped since stepping out of his academy.

His feet stopped before reaching the double doors of the master bedroom. Watching the emerald vista outside, he recalled another sun-tossed steppe. He thought of Sydney. Where was Agnes? How was Surya? Was Mark still mourning his sister? What were they doing? Had they carved out a home of their own, taking their respite from the war?

He entered a Tuscan bedroom with a vaulted, double storey ceiling, in the midst of which sat a four-poster bed. It was double-king-sized, and he had custom ordered from the local carpenter. Gingerly, he pulled over the bed tray and placed the bought breakfast by the oversized bed.

Elizabeth slept buried in a mass of pillows and soft white sheets. Her complexion was bloodless, her blue veins aristocratic against her pale, flawless skin. The NoMs had taken to calling her “The Countess”, which made him laugh. She slept carelessly, a wayward sheet covering her scandalous figure, her petite breasts forming only the slightest of suggestive mounds. Henry savoured the moment, admiring, for here in one bed lay his whole world.

“Up, up, sleeping beauty.”

He waved a hand over the bed tray. Coffee and sweet cakes materialised from the Storage Ring. “I bought Presszókávé and Flódni.” He lured her to consciousness with the heavenly scented breakfast.

Elizabeth slowly stirred, twirling the sheets around and curling her slender legs behind her. “Morning.”

“Noon, you mean.” Henry smiled gently.

Elizabeth stretched; the white sheets slid from her torso. Henry looked nervously around the room. The French windows were slightly ajar; the playful wind lifted the curtains carelessly.

“You look beautiful,” Henry remarked. “How do you feel today?”

She beamed at him, her baby blue eyes refracting the warm glow of noon light. “Energised. I would love to go into town later.”

“Shall I join you?”

“If you wish. Have you finished all your work?”

“It’s never-ending,” Henry returned a little bitterly. “The negotiations for the Tower are taking some time.”

“I’ll be a while. Lots of shopping to do. I haven’t even explored the old market in full yet. Join me later, then?”

“Sure.”

They ate the desserts he had bought. Henry wasn’t a fan, but his Lillybird was very much in possession of a sweet tooth. She could pack away the madártej, the dobostorta, and a whole serving of gesztenyepüré in a single sitting. He sometimes wondered why she never seemed to grow fat, though he’d thought it wiser to avoid that question lest he risked her wrath.

After breakfast, he watched Elizabeth dress in a chiffon tulip dress that reached her knees, accessorised with sandals and a broad-brimmed hat, the very picture of grace.

“Kívánok,” the servants greeted her. She asked for the driver; it would be twenty minutes to get to the market from the vineyard and she didn't want to fly.

Henry made for the study, a spacious converted bedroom that looked over the vineyard’s south, settling comfortably into his work. Endless paperwork and negotiations. Research. Treaties. Correspondences. Repetition.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. It was good. The work was quiet, and Elizabeth was snug in her white sheets morning after morning. Henry loved waking with his head resting in her lap, tying him to this land, lulled by everything around. His only wish was that perhaps, this would go on, day after day—their very own slice of paradise.

“I should have known something wasn’t right.” Henry sighed deeply. “But I was blinded by the impossible happiness we had shared.

"Even when the dead plants turned into small animals, birds and the like, I choose to ignore it. Lizzy confessed, of course; she always did. Sometimes crying, sometimes depressed, sometimes angry and in denial. It broke my heart. I should have done something, gotten her help maybe, but I couldn’t disturb the life we had there. She was so happy, always sleeping until noon, rarely going out. Even then, it was just for shopping and desserts. I convinced myself this was what she needed.

“Then one day, one of the NoM servants brought his dog, saying that something had attacked it, fearing that it was a Magical Beast which had somehow snuck through the Barrier Shields. That happened pretty often in the old days; the Magi-tech was fairly new. I knew what had happened the moment I saw it. It was a big dog, one of the hunting hounds they used to clear out the rabbits and foxes, but now it was just a husk, skin wearing bones. It was drained of life.”

“I asked him where Elizabeth had gone, and he told me she’d gone to town. I had a terrible premonition. Whenever she had an episode, she would be fatigued, tired, delirious, even. She would be in no condition to travel to town after leaking enough void mana to drain a hound of this size. I had to find her before she injured herself.

“So I abused one of the privileges I enjoyed as an Administrator of the new Tower and used a Teleport to get to town. I asked around the market. It wasn’t too difficult to track someone like Elizabeth. How many pale-skinned girls in white dresses could there be in an old Ottoman market? I followed her dessert crumb trail and, true to her word, she was leaving behind a whole chain of impressed pâtisserie and bakers.

“Ultimately, I tracked her to the Varios-a-varos Alatt, the town under the town, a network of tunnels used by the old church to store wine…”

Chapter forty-eight

A Slice of Paradise

Henry patted down the pocket of the gate guard in a friendly manner. Feeling the shape of the crystal he had inserted there, the soldier saluted smartly and resumed his patrol, certainly not seeing a high-ranking Mage entering a restricted area.

The descent into the cellar led to a sloping set of stone stairs carved from volcanic rhyolite, the old bedrock of the city, and it led into the uncertain darkness.

“Sufina,” Henry called, and the Dryad materialised beside him.

“Liz is down here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Henry always refrained from summoning Sufina while Elizabeth was present. Though they were both dear to him, the two of them shared an antagonistic relationship. Sufina loathed supplying Elizabeth with her vitality, performing her duty only to protect and please Henry. Elizabeth did not like the way the Dryad acted possessively over her husband.

“What do you think she’s doing here?”

“Looking for vintage wine, I hope,” Henry replied. “Let’s go.”

The cellar was extensive, spreading from the Rácz Gate to the Hatvan Gate, spanning over four kilometres. Towards the crossroad section lay the most impressive part of its medieval architecture—a seven-by-seven bisect of pillars. As a result, the chess table shadows cast by the lights made the intersection impossible to navigate by sight.

Sufina tracked the surroundings carefully, possessing a natural talent for finding signs of human passage. “Here, this way.”

They arrived at a flooded section. A knee-deep layer of water permeated the ancient stonework.

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“Water Walk!” Henry stepped over the stale water as though it were flat ground. He made it to the other side, then brought over Sufina with her Faery Lights. The signs of human passage were now visible; there were splotches of water here and there. Further in, he found a pair of abandoned sandals, too caked with dirt and mud to be useful. They belonged to his wife. He was close.

The duo proceeded down an unexcavated corridor for half a kilometre, finally arriving at a junction.

“Which way?”

Sufina tasted the atmosphere for the scent of sweat and human odour. Elizabeth was fond of sweet and fruity perfumes. "She's—"

“Aaaeeeeeaegh!” A cry resonated through the tunnels; a female voice, hysterical with pain and panic.

“That way,” Sufina stated worriedly.

Henry was moving before she had even finished. “Long Stride!” the Magister intoned, suddenly moving like a man shot from a ballista.

Sufina followed, extending her legs to match Henry’s supernatural speed.

They arrived at a chamber well lit by low candles, hundreds of them forming a cathedral. It looked to be an old shrine—the ceiling was arched, the chamber's sides carved from the volcanic rock.

His wife was there, but she was not alone. It was apparent by now that Elizabeth was not seeking out lost caskets of Hungarian Merlot.

“Lizzy.” Henry sucked in his breath, swallowing nervously, his hands trembling as he spoke. “What… what are you doing?”

Elizabeth was arm-deep inside the poor lass, her elbow protruding from a cavity just below her chest. She had a maniacal look in her eye, the very same look that Henry had seen on her face in the heat of battle—her pupils were dilated, pushing apart the baby blue of her iris. Her expression was euphoric, as though she was in the midst of a pleasant midsummer dream.

A pool of gore had collected underneath her, staining her white dress a deep carmine. The tulip edge had been tainted garnet, turning the chiffon into bloody gauze.

The woman, a stranger, looked at Henry with pleading eyes.

Elizabeth tilted her head, her pupils retracting as they focused on her husband. Coyly, she put on the expression of a naughty little girl caught taking extra candy from the jar. With agonising slowness, she withdrew her hand, sliding it from the gasping girl as if drawing a sword from a bloody sheath.

“Sufina!”

The dryad shot towards Elizabeth and caught the girl, injecting a jolt of positive energy. The girl gasped, her eyes glazed over with a moment of hope, then laid still. Sufina looked up angrily at Elizabeth before turning to Henry, shaking her head slightly.

“Elizabeth, answer me. What are you doing here? Why this?”

Elizabeth looked as though she wanted to think of an excuse but ultimately couldn’t summon the mental effort to do so. “I was hungry,” she confessed quietly, her voice wet with desire in the darkness. “The desserts weren’t enough, Henry. You should have brought extra servings.”

“You’re not yourself,” Henry carefully moved toward her. “Who's the girl?”

Elizabeth didn’t answer him. Instead, she lifted her dress and wiped her arm with the hem. It did nothing, for the blood was well congealed, set deep into the creases of her elbow, her fingers, the space between her nails. “Do you hate me now? Henry?”

“How can I?” Henry said earnestly. “You need help.”

“Do I?” Elizabeth lifted her arms above her head elegantly, spinning on her back foot and moving towards Henry like a red-rimmed flower. There was something dangerously sensual about her.

“We’ll get you help.” Henry caught Elizabeth as she spun into his arms.

“Only if you kiss me,” she said, her lips parting.

Henry held his wife and felt his heart bleed all over. His mind was blank. For once in his life, he had no idea what to do. He had thought her getting better, healing, moving away from war. She was happy at the vineyard, wasn’t she? Didn’t they have a slice of paradise there? Wasn’t that enough?

He leaned in to kiss her. What could he do? He would have to get her help. Perhaps an asylum? No. Mayhap his old contacts at the Lyceum in Greece could help her. They had the world’s best healers there, surely somebody would know.

“Henry! No!”

Sufina’s cry jolted him from the lulling kiss. Henry felt a sharp pain entering his chest, easily bypassing his ribs and cutting into his lungs. Instantly, his body grew cold, all warmth stifled by the hand that now grasped his heart. He coughed, arterial blood sprayed from his lips, speckling Elizabeth’s white face with crimson blossoms.

Sufina transformed into her battle form. Her smooth wooden skin turned cruel with barbs and thorns, her face growing grotesque with a feral madness. Tendrils of ironwood formed into deadly arrows.

Elizabeth spun, still holding Henry, a rag doll shield propped against Sufina’s retaliation. Immediately, the tendrils turned to soft vines, wrapping around Henry’s arms and legs, pulling him away from Elizabeth.

There was a sound of flesh tearing.

Sufina poured her life force into her Master, though the Magister's world had already grown dark.

“Master…” Gwen felt her heart jolt when Henry stopped his story to take yet another sip of Sufina’s mead.

“I am not Undead, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Henry spoke with a tone of understated mirth. “I survived, thanks to Sufina.”

Gwen shifted her attention to Sufina, her bark-like skin alternatively dark olive with light pine highlights, her face an exquisite art sculpture.

“Are you tired, Henry?” Sufina enquired worriedly.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. There’s a little more of the tale to go.”

The Magister continued. “When I came to, I had no idea what to do. Was Elizabeth glamoured? Had she been taken over by some treacherous spirit? How could my wife, the woman I loved, turn into such a monster? As I made my way through that cellar, I found more… evidence of her work. She had been taking people down there, mostly young Mages, sometimes NoMs. Mostly women, a few young men.”

“I had to find Elizabeth quickly. God knows what she was up to, what she could be doing in that state of mind. I called in help. There were only three other people in the world who knew the truth in its entirety, who cared enough about Elizabeth to want to help me save her.”

Henry surveyed the gathering around him.

Mark shot him a half-smile from behind the still shimmering Death’s Orb.

Agnes took on an expression of melancholy.

Surya crossed his arms and stared into the middle distance.

Gwen and Debora held one another's hands, their chests rising and falling arrhythmically.

“It took a few days to gather them. Thankfully, Elizabeth hadn’t gotten far. I pursued her each time she tried to rest, wearing her out, hoping she would come to her senses. The old party and I tracked her across half of Hungary to Gyula, near the Romanian Border. Her killings went unabated the entire time, and she was beginning to earn a name for herself—'The Bloody Countess'. Here was the old country; the peasantry was still superstitious. We were lucky that they had thought her a Nosferatu, a vampyre; for the alternative would have made things much more complicated.”

“We followed her bloody crumbs. She was becoming insatiable. There was only one death in the first town we reached. By the tenth, it was by scores of five or six, sometimes grotesquely arranged in some horrid ritual. We trudged on, Mark using a combination of Divination and Scry to try to locate where she could be, where she was headed.”

“Finally, we found her by the Gyulai vár, the abandoned castle…”

“Arrghk!”

Mark staggered against the wall, one hand placed over his left eye. A trickle of blood appeared between his fingers.

“Mark!” Agnes touched his convulsing shoulders.

The Diviner raised his free hand, indicating that he was alright. “She knows we’re here. I’ve lost my Arcane Eye.”

“Sufina,” Henry motioned, “tend to Mark. Where is she now?”

“North tower,” Mark replied, allowing Sufina to mend his bleeding eye, restoring some vision to an otherwise swollen mess. The psychic feedback from the sudden dispel had shocked his optic senses, rupturing a few blood vessels. There was likely permanent damage. “She’s weak. I think we’ve harassed her enough. Made her use up too much vitality.”

“Let's not waste any time then,” Henry stated coldly. “Surya, do it.”

Surya produced several accessories the size of fingernails, each imbued with a diamond the size of a quail egg. Upon closer inspection, the crystalline forms were not mineral diamonds but scintillating mana cores of some celestial creature cut and carved in brilliant facets. Surya felt the weight of the Creature Cores in his hand, their mass betraying their form. These were the Heart of Archons, each priceless on its own, carved and inscribed to shield against all types of negative energy. In the old days, Henry had them made to ward against Elizabeth’s careless AoEs.

Surya affixed the accessories to their chests, then uttered the activation keywords. In the next instant, their bodies began shedding a dull glow.

“Think we’ll corner her this time?” Agnes asked carefully.

“There shouldn't be a single human soul around here for kilometres,” Mark replied for Henry. “Not after we told them the vampire was holed up in the castle. She’s exhausted and has nothing to drain from. Now’s the time.”

Agnes again attempted to read their friend and leader's expression but saw nothing but fatigue and misery.

“Buff up.” Henry commanded.

“Mass Flight!”

“Iron Skin!”

“True Seeing.”

“Sufina, get started.”

A mass of vines sprouted from the Dyrad, spreading out as crawling tendrils up the walls of the castle and toward the north tower. They watched as she encased the exterior in less than a minute.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Henry?” Agnes asked, her own eyes heavy with the accumulated stress of an oppressive conscience.

Surya’s face was a mask of raw emotions with nothing to hide. Mark’s wore his usual calm and collected poker face.

In contrast, Henry’s stoic apathy sent shivers down her spine. She knew just how much he had loved his Lillybird, how much he had sacrificed for her. His sterling career, his fortune, a decade of his life, the prime of a Mage’s prowess, all given to the woman he loved so that she could feel happy and without want.

But the events of the last few months had dashed his dream to pieces. The crew had seen so much carnage while in pursuit of the Bloody Countess. There was no coming back from that.

Elizabeth was mad, that was without question, but Agnes couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was the magic taking over and how much of it was herself. Henry's wife had been a slim, shy girl with brilliant eyes and a face made for portraits. She wore white dresses and liked to show off her slender, white legs. Lizzy had been a sister, a friend, a comrade. If Agnes felt such heart-wrenching guilt for what was inevitably to come, then what malevolent storms must be churning within Henry’s heart?

“Telepathic Bond!” Agnes’s internal rumination was cut off by the sudden intrusion of thoughts from others, silenced at once by the activation of the shared spell. She whipped around to see Mark watching them with that poker face of his. The Divination staple was an essential battlefield boon but also served as a potential source of annoyance as it unwittingly shared strong emotions. The moment their minds had connected, Agnes had distinctly felt Henry’s doubt, distress and misery. Her face flushed. Mark should have also sensed it but the man's man was as cold as ice.

“You should have warned me,” she said, displeased, turning away from him.

“Sorry, I am a little tense,” Mark replied.

Their thoughts now connected, the group moved out.

Henry took the stairs, Sufina’s barbed vines sealing every passage as they went. Surya and Agnes took the outside. Surya made his way up the tower with Spider Climb, marking the window. Agnes encircled the same tower from a safe distance.

Mark remained below, safely managing the flow of thoughts and information, feeding them the location and action of Elizabeth with Clairvoyance.

Henry entered the tower, making his progress known via mental commands. The other two were in position. Surya paused just outside the window of the tower, perched against the stonework of the old Ottoman fort. Agnes hovered on the other side, her body charged with motes of fire, ready to do her worst.

To Henry’s surprise, the ancient door, an iron-banded wooden relic, was unlocked. He pushed it open, his eyes adjusting to the silhouettes of light and shadow within.

There was a woman in a torn, ivory dress lying against a bleak and rusty facade. The smell of iron was heavy in the air. Henry had found his wife—the fabled Bloody Countess.

Elizabeth’s slim legs extended from beneath her soiled dress, bare but for dark stains of clotting blood that ran between her once white thighs. A trail of blood pooled underneath her like dark sangria. Her face had always been frail and pale but now it was ghostly, ethereal.

As though a marionette with slack strings, she forced her head up. Underneath her dark locks were her eyes, the hue of baby blue untouched even by the state of her physical trauma.

“You came.” Elizabeth affected a warm smile on her cold lips. “I tried to save him, you know. Or perhaps it was a she. I know you prefer girls.”

Henry's mind reeled, a wave of emotions washing over the Telepathic Bond. He staggered back against the door, physically repulsed by the realisation of what he had just witnessed, by Elizabeth's revelation. Within his mind, he heard cries of shock and dismay echo from his companions.

In the next moment, Surya leapt from the crumbling brickwork of the tower’s window into the room. Agnes likewise entered by the south-facing opening.

“Elizabeth.”

“Oh, God. Lizzy.”

Despite their concern, Henry noted his friends kept their distance. The unbidden metaphor sent ice-cold tendrils of realisation throughout his body. His friends were right—they might feel for Elizabeth as her old companions, but their instincts as veterans of a hundred battles told them that she was a monster.

“How long?” he asked with trembling lips.

“A month? Two? One trimester? I am not sure anymore,” Elizabeth said weakly. “It made me feel so hungry. I just wanted to eat. I was just so hungry all the time.”

She coughed. Sakura specs bloomed on her white dress.“I could die for a Kürtőskalács right now,” she joked dryly.

No one laughed.

“I don’t suppose you could get Sufina to give me a hand?” Her breath was shallow, weaker. Elizabeth looked toward Henry demurely, dropping her heart-shaped face before turning her eyes up and towards him.

Henry felt his chest tighten, almost allowing his lips to move before the thoughtless act became interjected by cries of “no!” and “careful now”.

Elizabeth was his wolfsbane.

He was glad he had his companions with him.

“No?” Elizabeth asked weakly.

Henry shook his head.

They stood in silence, watching the blood seep, watching her pale skin begin to turn grey.

Surya turned away.

Agnes wept quietly.

Henry stood, stoic as a statue.

“The vineyard… it was nice.”

“It was our piece of paradise.”

“…”

“I am sorry.”

Elizabeth’s head fell to one side, a parting smirk upon her lips.

There was a sudden shudder in the air.

A dark portal opened. A black hole. Lizzy's signature spell, the beginning of the end.

His companions dived for the windows. Surya's shoulder slammed into Henry, throwing him from the opening before taking flight into the air. Agnes let herself drop from the south-facing opening, stopping only metres before the churning waters of the moat.

Mark watched from below. The top of the tower became instantly consumed by a dark mass, a sphere that drank in all light. It lasted only a second. When it was over, there was nothing left but exposed, ancient Ottoman stones that predated the Christian reclamation of the city.

“That is the long and short of it.” Henry breathed out as though a great burden had shed from his shoulders. “Which brings us to you, Mark.”

The group turned to look at him. It was time for him to provide the answers to his grand charade.

“Why did you endanger Gwen? Was it for your sister? Did you suspect that Elizabeth was involved in her death?” Henry demanded. "But you know all this; our minds had been linked."

Mark’s expression was unreadable.

“You think that’s the whole story?” Mark replied with a voice full of bitterness. “You think your Elizabeth went mad in Eger?”

The Diviner's face took on an expression of triumphant madness. He placed a hand on the Death’s Orb, watching Henry wince as he said his next words.

“Then let me show you, the monstrous light of truth!”

Chapter forty-nine

He Who Hunts Monsters

Mark’s voice trembled as he spoke, fully aware of the incarceration that awaited him, carefully enunciating every precious syllable.

“You see, while Henry was away trying to save his precious Lillybird, I too was beside myself with grief. To me, there was nothing more important to me than my sister. We were orphans—I was her brother, her mentor and her guardian. She was the reason I served with all of you in the first place.”

“When we had succeeded in saving the Brisbane Line, I had her enrol in the Officer Cadet’s Program. It was supposed to be safe, the kids there were all from notable families, talented. They were supposed to go on milk runs, be coddled through the two years of mandatory service. Jane could then join me in the Intelligence Division. I could look after her. The war would end, we could settle anywhere we liked in the Frontier.”

“Then Noosa Heads happened and all my dreams crumbled to dust.”

He looked at his companions coldly. “It’s a common story. I know, there were thousands like us during that time. Mages and NoMs, grieving together. Why the drama? What makes my sister’s death so special? I’ll tell you what. I knew something stank the moment it happened because I knew about Elizabeth!”

Mark tapped his head. “Telepathic Bond. Shared Thoughts. Mass Message. Once you tap into someone’s head long enough, a little bit of them rubs off on you. As soon as I heard the news, I suspected her. There was a madness in that woman. None of you believed me of course—not sweet, innocent Elizabeth! Not with her baby blue eyes! Or was it out of deference for Henry? We owe him so much—our positions, our wealth, our influence, all thanks to him, right? We couldn’t turn against that! There was no biting the hand!”

His voice rose an octave; Mark was breathing heavily now, his excitement dispelling the cool and collected man they had known.

The others listened wordlessly. Gwen and Debra held one another’s hand. So many skeletons raised from the dead. So many monsters were churning under dark and tranquil waters. She almost wanted to say that this was enough. No more. Elizabeth’s depravity. The loss of her Master’s child. Mark’s sister; what would lie at the tunnel’s bitter end? She thought of that old aphorism—“he who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster, for if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”

Mark continued, spittle flying every which way; his blood was up.“Oh, I knew. I knew there was something underneath that sweet face. There was hunger there! I felt it! Inhuman, primal, terrifying. It wasn’t anything that could be satisfied by nature! She was born a maneater, but now she would be an eater of men! Ha!”

“Mark,” Agnes shouted at him, her face full of upset and dismay. “Enough!”

“Enough?!” Mark howled at her. An arcane Glyph opened underneath him. “I’ll have enough when I have satisfaction!”

Gunther moved between Mark and the group. Mark didn’t care; he continued his compound casting, weaving spell after spell into the Necromantic relic.

“Astral Projection! Greater Image!”

There was a pause as his face grew pale. The Negative Energy flooding into his body through the Death’s Orb was consuming his life force. “Commune with Dead!”

A vision began to materialise in the space between them in the form of a girl.

“Jesus, Jane.” Agnes covered her mouth. “Mark, what have you done?! Oh, Mark, that’s your sister.”

Gunther’s jaw clenched with fury and barely constrained anger, his brows knitted. This old “mate” of his Master had gone rabid. It was time to put him down.

“Mr Chandler,” he intoned with absolute authority, “for exercising forbidden Necromantic practices and entrapping the soul of a fellow Mage, you are hereby excommunicated from the Tower and marked for Stasis. You will cease your magic at once and come with me peacefully.”

The Paladin raised a hand. Give him a second and Mark Chandler would be bereft of his limbs, awakening to a world of exquisite agony. The dabbler of Necromancy would enter a stasis cell and never again see the face of men until the day of his natural death.

“Stand down, Gunther,” Henry commanded. The Radiant Mage regarded his master for a moment before stepping aside. “Let’s see what Mark has to say for himself… and for Elizabeth.”

The dark sprite had now coalesced into a solid figure. Jane's audience could see her speak, though her voice came across a half-second later, disjointed and hollow.

“Mark, where am I? It hurts! It hurts so much! Return me, return…”

“Jane,” Mark began. “Jane, we don’t have much time. Tell them how you died.”

“Died… I died…” Jane mouthed, her face indistinct. Suddenly she cried out, a guttural, banshee’s screech that went on and on, sending slivers of ice down their spines. It was not a cry that existed in the material plane, for no particles of air sifted nor moved. It was a sound that resonated within their souls, filling them with malice and dread.

“Murdered! I was murdered!”

“Show me,” Mark commanded in an eldritch voice tainted by the foulness of deathly hallows. He placed a finger in the space between his eyes.

The Third-Eye; the seat of a Diviner’s astral vision.

“Enter and show me. Show them.”

Jane had been admiring Elizabeth’s tailored dress uniform when a sudden tremor shook the building, lurching the dining table sideways and sending the tea and cupcakes scattering all over.

Outside, a siren blared. The speaker system in the mess hall also began to screech and scream. WeeeeeeEEEEEeeeeEEEEEE.

A long continuous wail meant the base was under imminent attack.

Jane’s eyes widened in horror. She looked towards Elizabeth, whose own lovely face affected a slight furrow of her exquisite brows.

“Not a drill, it seems,” she observed worriedly, though not forgetting to finish her tea. “You ever been in combat before, Jane?”

“No, never.” Jane swallowed. Caught by surprise, the novice had dropped her cup, shattering the bone china amongst a smattering of shortcakes. Like her brother, Jane was a Diviner, a caster with little to no offensive or defensive capabilities. “Lizzy! What do I do?”

The Acolyte saw the sea rise from the window. Something was moving from the shallows onto the shore, towards the base. A gargantuan tentacle rose into the air, then another and another. A tidal wave of white water washed over the compound. As the water drained, the dark silhouette under the water transformed into an armoured Kraken that towered over their four-storey HQ.

“Stay here.” Elizabeth’s voice rang out as she made for the exterior. “This is the only concrete building in the compound. If there’s anything that’s going to withstand that thing’s physical attacks, it’s the HQ. Don’t leave unless you have to.”

“Alright,” Jane answered doubtfully, both wishing to stay within the compound as well as enjoy Elizabeth’s protection. There were others there as well, but how could they compare to Elizabeth Sobel, hero of the Brisbane Line? Her most ardent desire would have been for Elizabeth to remain in the mess hall, accompanying her. Of course, that was wishful thinking, for her mentor had gone in the next minute.

From the safety of the HQ building, Jane watched with growing horror and apprehension as more creatures made landfall. Mermen were cascading off the Kraken’s back, spilling from some strange interior chamber. There were all kinds, some in the classic humanoid shape of men with webbed feet and arms, while others were fish-like or crustacean.

Presently, she was on the third floor, secure, at least for now. Was Elizabeth right? Should she stay? The Kraken loomed too close for comfort, so much that Jane could hear the sound of fighting. The Diviner had never fought before except in sparring duels at the academy. She had never even seen a monster above tier II since her field exercise. Her brother had told her that this place was safe, that it was just a two-year milk run.

The more she considered her options, the more her paranoia conflagrated. She wasn’t trained for this, or perhaps she was? She didn’t even know. The very thought of facing one of those half-fish, half-man beasts made her puke.

Crink-Crack!

Without warning, the ceiling began to crumble, the floor-to-ceiling windows vibrated for a split second, then blew out. A giant tentacle swooshed past the now shattered windows, peppering Jane with a shower of glass, sending her crashing onto the floor. She frantically struggled to stand but dug her hands into the fragments that were now all over the carpet. Agonising pain burned across both her palms, her hands and fingers. She cried out for help: for Mark, for Elizabeth, for anyone.

In her panic, she came to realise she was no longer alone. A fish-man was moving towards her! It was shouting something in a guttural tongue, sending out a spray of mucus that smelled strongly of the sea.

“Jet Blast!” A watery missile materialised from thin air and struck the creature, pushing it back through the window. One Evocation spell was all Jane could manage, her mind straining with the stress of an unschooled Sigil. Any more and she would be retching all over the floor, incapacitating herself.

Another creature appeared from the window, having scaled the walls on its suctioned feet.

“No! No! No!” Jane uttered bewilderingly, waving her hands to muster another spell. Motes of water mana churned but no phenomena manifested. She felt a wave of dizziness overwhelm her, sending her to her knees. The half-lobster merman bowled her over and pushed her onto the floor, pinning her arms. The thing likely wanted to capture her for some nefarious purpose.

“Mark!” Jane cried out. “Lizzy! Somebody!”

Her answer came in the form of a bolt of darkness cutting across the room. When it had struck, most of the Merman was gone. Only stumpy claws holding Jane onto the floor remained.

“Elizabeth! You came! Thank God!” Jane rolled onto her elbows, doing her best not to puke from the smell of desiccating prawn. “What was that spell? It was magnificent!”

Elizabeth didn’t answer. Instead, she stumbled towards Jane and ran into her bodily. Jane could see that Elizabeth's face was deathly pale, that she was bleeding from her right arm.

“Lizzy! You’re injured! I… I'll find a medic.”

“Get out of here!” Elizabeth took Jane’s arm and pulled her toward the window. She resisted, but even in her frail state, Elizabeth had overpowered her.

They leapt.

Jane screamed.

They jumped from the fourth storey just as another tentacle struck the side of the building, sending out a spiderweb of fissures across crumbling concrete.

“Feather Fall!” The two of them slowed their descent, but still, they landed heavily. Elizabeth’s rushed invocation couldn't cover both of them. With a heavy thud, they stuck the pavement below, and down Elizabeth went.

“Liz! Are you okay? Oh my God.”

Elizabeth’s dress uniform had come with unfortunately tall heels. She had landed awkwardly, and her ankle was twisted in a disturbing direction. Jane watched as she grunted, her face turning even paler than before. Her fingers dug into Jane's arm with enough force to draw blood.

“Someone! Help!” Jane shrieked into the chaos. Cadets and officers were running like headless chickens all over the place. Some were trying to flee, others tried to fight.

Thankfully, a blonde-haired youth ran up and helped Elizabeth to her feet, hopping on her good leg. From above came the sound of something whooshing through the air, crashing into the building and the wall behind them.

They looked up to see a purple-pink tentacle slither away, leaving behind a mess of human flesh, crushed into smithereens against the concrete HQ.

Jane screamed. She screamed and screamed; frozen to the spot.

Elizabeth swore. Jane glanced up and saw a silhouette loom over them. The writhing mass of the Kraken was now upon them.

“It’s seen us!” Elizabeth shouted and tried to move. Even with the cadet’s help, she couldn’t move fast enough. The Air Evoker cursed. She commanded the cadet to turn her around. Jane helped, bracing Elizabeth’s other arm.

“Blade Barrier!” Elizabeth threw up a hand.

The tier VI Evocation hacked into their assailant.

Thump!

A massive tentacle landed not far from them, sliced clean off its now oozing stump. There was a sound of thunder as the creature raged. The ground shook violently.

“Well fudge, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s twice as pissed now.” Elizabeth remarked despairingly, her comely face pale, drained, deathly.

Without warning, the blonde cadet dropped Elizabeth. He ducked under her arm, allowing her to fall, then ran for it.

Elizabeth fell awkwardly onto the floor and crumpled into a heap, screaming as her broken ankle hammered the tarmac.

Behind them, the cadet scampered past a fence, fleeing toward the uncertain shelter of the woods.

“Fuck! You ingrate asshole!” Elizabeth shrieked at him.

Jane shook, her whole body buzzing with fright and hysteria. She saw Elizabeth turn to her. Something dark gripped her heart, something full of yellow venom and selfish purpose.

“Jane,” Elizabeth began. “Don’t—“

Jane ran. She ran and ran and ran.

Behind her, Elizabeth was saying something indistinct, but Jane could no longer hear it.

“I am sorry, I am sorry, Liz. I am sorry. Please make it. Please survive.”

She ran. She fell, she got up, she staggered on.

She didn’t even feel the pain from her palms anymore. She just wanted to get away from the sea, from the monster, from the mermen, from Elizabeth.

Don’t look back! she told herself. You mustn’t look back.

Sickening sounds of destruction resounded from behind—wails of pain and horror, both human and mermen.

An explosion rocked the base. Something had set off the mana crystals in the depot.

Jane hastened her pace but the shockwave was too quick. It caught her in the next few seconds, sending her tumbling through the air, thrashing her flailing limbs against the asphalt.

When she reorientated herself from the tumbling, she realised she was facing the wrong way. She was facing the ocean. She was looking back.

Her face blanched, the blood drained from every inch of her skin. Her eyes began to bulge, then bleed.

Jane began to whimper and cry.

“Oh, Liz. Oh, Lizzy, save me. Save me,” she moaned incoherently. “I don’t want to die. I want to see Mark.”

A miracle imposed itself atop the girl's gibbering figure.

A solar eclipse.

A dark sun, a shadow of a shadow consuming all light, drinking up the world.

Tendrils of darkness, tipped with lamprey's lips, reached out from its centre, seemingly ignoring the distance and space.

Jane watched in horror as one of them seemed to find her instantaneously.

She felt the cold dark invade her skin, digging into her body, lifting her from the ground. The tendril effortlessly sliced through her non-existent mana Shield, through her uniform, slicing into her torso and legs, bleeding her.

“Arrrgh. Ah, ah. N-No, no, no!” Jane was mewling like a babe, her face a grotesque mask of pain and agony.

The gathering watched agog as the vision continued to manifest.

A dark sun bloomed in Jane’s vision, draining all light, all life.

The Merfolk, the NoMs, the Mages, all were caught in its embrace. It took in everything—friends, enemies, trees, grass, bits of concrete, even water from the sea. With each thing it consumed, it seemed to grow larger, bigger, more powerful. Dark miasma poured from its centre, forming long shadowy tendrils. Darker then black, they extended through the air, picking through the flotsam and jetsam for nourishing sweetmeats.

Jane cried out in horror. She rose into the air, weaker and weaker, higher and higher. When she had floated close enough to the centre of the dark sun, they saw.

They all saw.

Two women were silhouetted side by side; a ghastly parallel of the two women having tea only an hour earlier. There were no cakes and ices this time. Jane's body was a bloody mess, while a tenebrous miasma scattered from Elizabeth's body like fog rolling off a cold mountain.

They saw Jane’s unfocused dark eyes meet with Elizabeth’s irises of baby blue, whose innocence betrayed no particular emotion. Elizabeth’s thin white legs extended from the churning shadows swirling across her body. Obsidian black and starkly white, a goddess of deified death.

"Lizzy,.." Jane moaned, crying and sobbing, blood and tears pouring from her bulging eyes in equal measure. "Lizzy it hurts. It hurts so bad."

Elizabeth gazed upon Jane without an iota of sympathy. “Silly girl. You needn’t have died. You had nothing I wanted. You were useless.”

“Please, spare me.”

“You should have stayed a moment longer. I was telling you to run, you know, playing the big sister.”

“Please, please, Lizzy!”

They watched Elizabeth force a hand under Jane’s ribs, piercing her chest in one swift, practiced motion. “Now look at what you made me do.”

The vision ended.

Mark tore himself away from the orb, falling to the floor, gasping for breath. When he raised his face again, he looked older, far older, as though he had aged a decade.

“Do you understand now?!” he uttered between clenched teeth. “This was your precious wife! I spent twenty years trying to uncover the truth. A decade to track down an orb and another decade to learn to use it! Did you know what I had to give, to trade, to find my sister’s soul?”

Henry’s pallor was paler than it had ever been. His wife. His poor Elizabeth. She hadn’t turned into a monster. She had been a monster from the beginning. All it took was a single crisis, then the undertow had taken her.

Gwen recovered from the overload of emotion and information. There was so much there, so many answers, but still she felt that Mark had left an important question unanswered.

“Well, do you have your satisfaction now, Mark?” she tried to keep her voice level and measured. “That still doesn’t explain why you sent me into that hellhole to suffer. What could you gain from that? More satisfaction? Was it to see my Master suffer humiliation? Is it because I am a Void Mage that you wanted me defiled and betrayed?”

Mark laughed; a burst of insane, hysterical laughter. “We always save the best for last, no?” he said to Gwen, grinning maniacally. He turned to Henry. “Your wife is still alive and kicking.”

Henry suddenly stood, his face a mask of anger and fury. Surya did likewise, his expression full of indignation for his friend. Agnes simply held a hand to her mouth in shock horror. It was madness, complete madness. Mark was consumed by it, by holding onto that secret and letting it fester in his chest; it fed on him, digesting the man they had once known.

“You think me mad, don’t you?” Mark demanded, his eyes glowing with excitement. He stopped talking suddenly and gloatingly gazed at Henry. “Whose soul did you think I attempt to raise at first?! Ha! It was Elizabeth! The woman I hated more than anything in the world! Why raise my sister, subject her to such soul rendering agony, when I could have truth and satisfaction in one fell swoop?! But do you know what happened? You know what happened when I tried?

“She wasn’t there! Her Astral Soul had never untethered from her body! I may be a fledging Necromancer but even I know that you can’t raise the soul of a being who hasn’t died!”

“Master.” Gunther stepped between Mark and Henry, cutting him off abruptly. “Perhaps it is best to end it right here and now. What good would more secrets serve? What’s done is done. We need to look to the future. This Necromancer was as good as dead the moment he trapped a human soul within that orb. Gwen too should be free of his insanity."

As if sensing the end was nigh, Mark suddenly began to speak with great haste; a torrent of words poured from his mouth. His eyes were wild, his face contorted with the ecstasy of the reveal. All these years, all these years and now he had finally proven to Henry that he was wrong, that Elizabeth was responsible, that she was a monster and they were all fools! There was just one more step. One more step!

“I always knew, I just knew that Elizabeth had been up to something, but I could never figure it out. Let me remind all of you of that final climax, what did she say? You had nothing I wanted. What had she wanted? What could she have wanted?”

Mark pointed to Gwen with an accusing finger. Her heart leapt to her throat in an instant.

“There’s your answer! At first, I couldn’t prove it. I couldn’t prove what Elizabeth wanted. Then you, Henry, sent me your apprentice! How fortuitous! How foolish! I couldn’t believe it when you told me that she was a Void mage! Is it poetic justice? I couldn’t believe my luck. Were you trying to repeat the past? You can’t repeat the past, old friend! You can’t! All you sent me was proof! I couldn’t prove my theory, but with Gwen, with another Void Mage, I could! Your apprentice had killed a dozen Mages. I have… I have their dossiers here. See! Look!”

He pounced on the papers—pictures, files, records scattered all over.

“Put her in the chamber, Henry! Put her in and you’ll know why Elizabeth is still alive! Ha! You were all wrong! My poor Jane, if you hadn’t covered it up, Henry! If…”

Then Mark was suddenly silent. Without even incanting a spell, Gunther had reached across between them with his long arm, caught him by the hair, then slammed his head against the heavy oaken table. Mark’s body fell to the floor wetly like a slack of sack potatoes.

“Master.” Gunther knelt. “I take full responsibility."

Henry’s eyes rose from Mark’s body. He nodded gently and patted his shoulder. His Apprentice was right; this farce had gone on long enough.

“Magus Mark Chandler is to be placed under indefinite quarantine,” the Magister spoke, gaining a measure of strength with every uttered word. “What say you?”

Gwen and Debra had nothing to say; their opinions counted for nothing.

Surya inclined his head imperceptibly.

Agnes looked away, unable to find the words.

“Good. Gunther, if you please.”

“Levitation!”

Gunther hoisted his human cargo with one hand.

“I am returning to the Tower, Master.” He bowed. “I’ll send a clean-up crew within the hour.”

Henry nodded toward his eldest Apprentice before turning to his youngest one. “Gwen…” he began.

Gwen felt her heart lurch. At this rate, she was sure to develop an early arrhythmia.

“It's time we discussed your future.”

Chapter fifty

Cruel to be Kind

“We can talk in the grot,” Henry intoned kindly before giving Gwen’s hand a reassuring, fatherly pat. “There is much to discuss.”

The remaining members of the conference glanced at the empty desk, grimly reminding the party that they were now missing Mark and Gunther.

Unexpectedly, Henry turned to Debora. Gwen's classmate grew instantly rigid the moment the Magister's attention lingered, gripping Gwen’s arm a little tighter. It was an understandable reaction; for who wouldn’t be stunned by the full attention of Henry Kilroy, Head of the Ten, Master of the Sydney Tower? He was a legend, a rumour, a personage she had only seen in the newspapers, and now he was addressing her directly.

“Debora, was it?”

“Yes, sir!” Debora answered. She left Gwen's arm and stood ramrod straight, unsure if to bow or salute. “Debora Jones, first… soon to be second-year at Blackwattle Academy, sir.”

“No need to be so nervous, Debora.” Henry likewise patted her on the shoulder. The Earthen Mage appeared as though Gwen had struck her with another discharge of static.

I know that look well. Gwen observed. Debora was starstruck, as she had been, to be interacting with a Magister, one of the most powerful Mages in the nation.

“You have been party to some rather unsavoury secrets, Debora, including Gwen’s relationship with me,” Henry began, causing a cold sweat to break out over Gwen’s brow. “As a result, I fear I have no choice but…”

“Master!” Gwen interjected nervously.

They had just seen Mark hauled off like a side of beef. Perhaps her master’s blood was still up, feeling protective and paranoid from all that he had just witnessed?

“I am sorry, sir, but… please, please spare Debora. Mayhap a Geas spell or a compulsion? Or a tracking ring? She is innocent. I mean, Opa carelessly brought her! If anything, he should take responsibility!”

Surya appeared wounded, his face a mask of sorrow.

Henry performed a double-take before he began to chuckle. Surya joined him a moment later, their jovial mood upsetting the tension that had overtaken the conversation.

“Gwen, I was going to say that I have no choice but to trust her in this matter, trust in her judgement, her ability to keep a secret.”

“Ah. Of course, Master.” Gwen felt instant relief wash over her. She flushed a bright red. Beside her, the blood returned to Debora's face.

“Can we trust you? Debora Jones?” Henry’s tone took on a more serious slant.

The question was rhetorical, of course. What would a girl whose father and mother were middle-class Transmuters do against a request made by the highest power in the land? Refusing was out of the question, as were any glib or uncertain answers. Not abiding by the agreement was likewise suicide. The Tower was the highest authority on matters of the magic, overriding even the Frontier Government, including its Senate. Who could Debora turn to if she wanted to reveal the truth to the world? She would evaporate, disappear, cease to exist overnight, just like Mark Chandler.

Debora nodded furiously. “Yes, sir! You can trust me, sir!” she added another “sir” just in case. One could never have too many sirs when addressing someone like Henry.

“Very good. You may go with Surya. Rest assured, you and Gwen will see each other soon enough.”

Debora moved away from Gwen reluctantly, taking a position behind her Instructor, Surya.

“I’ll see you back at the ranch, Gwen.” Surya waved at his granddaughter.

“See you later, Opa.”

The remaining three watched them depart, their eyes following the bony old man and the tall, athletic girl as they disappeared.

Henry turned to the last remaining member of their erstwhile companionship. “Agnes, I am sorry you had to experience all that.”

“I am sorry too, Henry,” Agnes repined. With the incarceration of Mark came the death of their three-decade-long fellowship. Now, she could no longer speak with Surya or Henry, knowing that by their will and intent, Mark was rotting away in a cell somewhere for the rest of his natural life. “May I go now?” She framed her question with caution and aversion, indicating her desired distance.

Henry’s expression grew sullen. His sympathy died in his throat. “You may go, Agnes.”

“Goodbye, old friend.” The Evoker left.

Only Gwen and Sufina now remained. The dryad flitted about here and there without a care, examining curios that Mark had left behind.

“Shall we?” Henry made an effort to stand. Gwen moved beside him and slipped her arm under her Master's shoulder, aiding his movement. Her Master's arm felt far frailer than her grandfather's. Where Surya was all cord and cable, Henry's was more akin to a dried-out branch.

She wasn't sure if he required her help, but the effort seemed to please Sufina. The two of them proceeded arm in arm down the narrow stairs towards the Teleportation chamber in the basement.

They stopped by Alesia’s apartment first. Gwen had been soiled by her misadventure, her dress torn here and there, her nails matted with dried blood. If they teleported into the Tower like that, tongues would be wagging, and lascivious rumours would travel the circumference of Oceania before they reached the levitation lifts.

Henry took a catnap while Gwen quickly showered and changed. Alesia was away with Yue, training her new apprentice in the art of ruin and destruction. Wishing haste, Gwen took the first item on the pile—a Merlot spaghetti-strap dress. Washing the dust and blood from her hair, she rolled her fringe to one side and was back to her usual regal self.

Once outside, Henry commented that Gwen had made good use of Alesia's rather monotonous choice of wardrobe, then teased at Alesia's spending of her stipend on perishable items of clothing, despite the existence of flame-attuned uniforms.

The two then returned to the secret chamber below, where the Teleportation Circle flared silver and white, distorting space and distance.

Without Alesia’s presence, the guards were far friendlier. A few of them greeted Gwen and introduced themselves, keenly interested in the tall and lovely girl who seemed to have the Magister’s eye.

Prior, she had frequented the Tower to see the Magister during her three months of training. Now, she was considered more or less a standard feature of the Tower Master's itinerary. Though the guards had no clue how she was associated with the Magister, they could see from the manner of her filial intimacy that the two were close. Was she a relative? Perhaps the daughter of a well-connected acquaintance, or maybe something of a companion? It didn’t matter to the guards, themselves Apprentices and Mages in training under various Factions. They were polite to her and she was amicable to them. If she could curry favour with them in exchange for services rendered, it worked for the betterment of all.

The guards made small talk with Gwen as the levitation platform thrummed, complimenting her with words of admiration. They introduced themselves as Williams and McKinsey, offering her their services with bright, hopeful eyes. Henry nodded at the two young men as he and Gwen alighted from the platform.

The grot remained timeless and unchanged—a mossy clearing with dappled sunlight, alternating between the seasons as Sufina’s moods shifted. The moment they reentered the pocket space, Henry's back stood straighter, his head held higher. By the time they had made the walk to the central chamber, he was back to his spritely old self, an ageing professor looking smart in his tweed jacket and cashmere vest.

They found a place under Sufina’s heart tree, where a slight cross-breeze brought summer smells. Sufina wrapped her arms around Gwen, affecting a sound of shivering leaves as the dryad took in her scent.

“You still have the Serpent’s life force on you,” Sufina noted with great pleasure. “It’s vibrant and rich. I love it. I wonder how long it will last?”

A set of garden furniture grew around them as Sufina played the maid, returning to them with a stack of manna bread, two crystal glasses and a decanter of her famous golden mead.

Henry waited until Gwen had settled into the elfin garden chair with its elegant curves and leafy woodwork. She crossed her long legs comfortably, tucking an ankle behind a soft, mossy chair leg. He raised a glass and she met him halfway with a clink. She took a quick sip and felt the revitalising energy of the mead suffuse her weary mind.

They made more small talk, some Spellcraft theory here and there, a few anecdotes about Surya's scandalous sculptures, easing into the weight of their conversation.

“Gwen, how do you feel right now?” Henry finally began, starting with a simple question to test the waters.

It was a loaded question, and she felt the need for measured answers. After all, she had just witnessed a man dragged away to be incarcerated for the entirety of his natural lifespan. The stories of the last few hours had informed her of her Master’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. Henry, despite his experiences, was a sentimentalist, an idealist and a romantic.

As a leader, he was a man of the middle path, dreaming of an improbable balance between power and accountability. As a companion, he was trusting and honourable, collected and composed. As a teacher, he was experienced beyond measure, an able instructor who produced two peerless proteges.

Finally, as an arbitrator, Henry was relentless, capable of putting aside his emotions, even for the woman he loved more than anything in the world. If Henry had a flaw, it would be his preference for patience even in matters of urgency.

So how should she approach their talk? Her master's silence had given her time to ponder her options. According to the sordid chronicle of Elizabeth, Gwen possessed an element that would inevitably invade and corrupt the mind of the user. To Gwen, however, the revelation merely pointed to the fact that the war itself might have unhinged Elizabeth. Depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder were common symptoms which plagued the war-weary of her world.

It was shocking for her to know that, in this world where death in the service of survival was commonplace, there was no such thing as mental clinicians. There was no Pavlov, Skinner, Jung and Maslow to explain the inner world to the traumatised survivors of horrors both natural and supernatural. Even if there were, they'd be sanctioned Mind-Mages, offering no balms for the inflamed brain, favouring the brutality of mind-wipes.

She was out of time.

"Guilty," she replied, ending the silence between them. "I could feel my victim's cries knock against my heart when Caliban's mind rejoined my own. I even felt empathy for Bozza and Farez, the slavers, even though Gunther was trying to teach me the dangers of careless mercy and naivety."

The frankness surprised Henry, but other than a gradual raising of the brow, her master's eyes betrayed nothing.

"I see." Henry mulled over her words. "How do you feel about Mark? His accusation?"

Another loaded question, Gwen thought. "Angry, indignant." She stressed her vowels. "I don't wish to offend, Master, but I am not Elizabeth."

"No, you are not."

To her surprise, her Master smirked. "You told me once, Gwen, that the abuse of greatness is when remorse is disjointed from power. Do you feel remorse, Gwen?"

She considered it. She couldn't be the perfect sociopathic combat Mage or a perfect inquisitorial agent like Gunther. She couldn't even be a ruthless, doubtless battering ram like Alesia.

"I do, Master," She confessed, laying it out there with a sense of come what may. "I find no pleasure in harming others. I find scant desire in taking the lives of my enemies."

Henry tapped the table thoughtfully. "What of your Credo, Gwen? Had you not wanted the power to punish those who would wrong you? To harry the foxes, frighten the wolves and slaughter the tigers?”

"Perhaps not so much the slaughtering, Master."

Henry chuckled. The girl was more mature than he'd anticipated. "A pacifist then? A rare bird in these dark and winding woods, Gwen. A dangerous choice."

"The woods are dark and deep, Master, but I have to walk my Path, even if it's a road not taken."

"The road less taken can easily lead you astray, Gwen, perhaps to a precipice. Do you know what lies at the end of that Path?"

"I don't know, Master, but I have to try. To accept that I would be a killer… that's impossible for me."

She shook her head, her voice trembling. Perhaps she was revealing too much of herself? What if her Master saw her pacifism as a dire weakness? What if he chose to abandon her?

Was the loathing of murder a weakness? Was it not Gandhi who had said that there was not a single cause he would kill for, and yet overturned four centuries of colonisation? Was it not Socrates, whose wisdom built the modern republic, who said that men ought not to do evil, no matter what the suffering? Perhaps that was too excessive; this was not a world where men could negotiate with the forces that threatened them. But surely, against one's fellow man, as a shared condition of survival, there were grounds for men to show mercy and compassion to kin and kind.

"Do you want to be a pacifist, Gwen? How do you hope to survive without harming your enemies?"

There was an edge of criticism to her master’s voice now. Her time was up. Like filching nectar from a honeycomb of stored wisdom, she recalled the grand conclusions reached by the men who were responsible for splitting the atom, for engineering the end of human civilisation on earth. The context was a little off, but it would have to do.

"I do not wish to be merely a pacifist, Master," Gwen spoke carefully, her voice measured and vibrant. "I am saying that I wish to be a Militant Pacifist. I am willing to fight for my pacifism. For the only way to end violence is for our enemies to refuse violence themselves."

The oxymoronic logos caught Henry off-guard. He stared at her with an expression of bemusement before the words slowly digested. "You want to be so powerful that your enemies quake and shudder at the very thought of war?"

Gwen smiled coyly. "Is that not how the Mermen and the Saurian conflict ended, Master? Peaceful co-existence for the next three decades?"

Henry suddenly snorted, slapping his knees. "You're right!"He laughed, a burst of rip-roaring laughter uncharacteristically stretching his usually stern face.

"The path of Militant Pacifism! Ha! What a mind you must possess!"

He tapped the table excitedly. "No killing then?" he questioned.

"No unnecessary killing, Master.”

“What would you call your Path, then?”

"Humanism, Master, the Path of the Humane."

Henry mulled overt Gwen's rather unusual Credo. "What if you find yourself again in the same circumstance, Gwen? About to be violated or harmed. Would you again show careless mercy?"

Gwen was ready; she wasn't about to dismiss the hard lesson from Gunther. "We must be cruel to be kind, Master," she answered with the words of wiser men.

"How wonderfully complex that answer is!” Henry allowed his mind to have the slow luxury of abstracting her logic. "What of noblesse oblige? For the NoMs, I mean."

"I cannot begrudge those whose most distant horizons are tomorrow. Not when so many of their problems can be resolved by bread, water and shelter,” Gwen answered smartly. “They will have their part to play, as do we. If possible, I would like to build a world where NoMs are just as important, no different from Mages.”

"I see. A noble goal."

They then spoke of her experiences in the slums, of the condition of NoMs, what she had seen. Ultimately, the conversation arrived at its predestined topic.

"How you do feel about Caliban then?" her master asked suddenly.

Gwen swallowed a little nervously. "I am… afraid of it, Master."

Henry nodded sagely. "I see. I see. Do you mind bringing out your familiars? Ariel first, if you could."

Gwen incanted the spell for Conjuring her familiar. Ariel appeared on the table in its passive form. Henry reached out and tickled the creature's fur, sending out sparks of static.

"Eeee! Eeee!" Ariel rubbed its snout on his hand. It made a begging motion with its paws, first towards Gwen, then towards Henry.

"Are you afraid of Ariel?" Henry asked, producing an HDM crystal, watching the marten stuffing itself, its cheeks puffed with mana.

"No," Gwen admitted.

"Why?" Henry asked softly.

Gwen considered Henry's question. The obvious answer was that Ariel wasn't a thousand-young horror, but that was sophistry. "I am not sure," she mumbled."Perhaps it is because Ariel listens and I feel in control.”

"Does Caliban not listen?"

Gwen shook her head. Caliban did listen to her; even in the heat of battle it had done so. It was her fault that Caliban had leaked out. She was the weak one, not Caliban.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's the Void magic, Master. Caliban induces in me an unyielding hunger. I feel it enticing me, demanding that I satiate it, yet the more I fed it, the hungrier I become."

"A question of temptation, then." Henry nodded. "A test my wife failed horribly. What are your thoughts, then? Would you cease using Void magic entirely?"

The honest answer was self-evident, but Gwen struggled to find the right words.

"Caliban is essential if you wish to embark upon the path you have chosen," Henry added. He could feel Gwen's dismay, taste her hesitation. The girl was too obsessed with the right answers. For all her wisdom, she didn't know that in life, correct answers were scarce indeed.

"Bring out Caliban, Gwen."

"Caliban…" Gwen winced as the vitality drained from her, drinking the blood from her pink cheeks.

The serpent appeared from the nether space of the void, landing with a thump on the mossy floor. Instantly, the vibrant moss wilted and died, leaving behind a patch of brown and black. It reared its head, scanning the room and sniffing the air.

"Hiss! Hiss!" it uttered, slithering toward Gwen joyously.

Her body stiffened with revulsion. Seemingly sensing her hesitation, Caliban stopped apprehensively, looking wounded by its master's rejection.

"Caliban, over here." Henry produced an HDM crystal and waved the sparkling stone before it.

The creature wanted to leap towards it immediately but hesitated when no consent came from Gwen.

"It's fine, Gwen."

Caliban slithered onto the table, leaving behind a trail of wilting, desolated wood.

To Gwen's astonishment, Henry placed his hands upon Caliban's smooth exterior. There was a sizzle as his flesh made contact; acrid black smoke rose into the air. Gwen almost called out, but Henry's hard, grey eyes met her own.

"Calm your emotions, control your fear. Don’t let your weakness bleed into Caliban.”

Gwen exhaled deeply. The sizzling ceased. Caliban's presence no longer ate into the living wood. Her Master was right. How could he not be? He was a Magister level Conjurer. He was right; the weakness was Gwen's.

"Good. Do you fear it still?"

Gwen considered the sleek and dark creature before her; its carapace had split to reveal a lamprey's mouth, now busily slurping at the crystal. "Less so," she confessed, her heart wincing as Sufina’s positive energy slowly healed Henry's fingers. Caliban looked at Sufina with great interest, flicking its tongue. Sufina winked at the creature.

"There is always a temptation in possessing great power, Gwen. The more potent the source, the more it tempts you to use it. Do you believe Sufina powerful?"

Gwen nodded.

"Do you know how powerful she is?"

Gwen did not.

Henry smiled sagely. "Allow me a quick demonstration. Sufina, if you please."

The gathering turned to observe their Dryad maid. Ariel cocked its furry snout, Caliban hissed, Gwen swallowed another gulp of mead.

Suddenly, Sufina's face turned cruel. Her smooth skin erupted in thorns and barbs, her body elongating into a nightmarish shambler covered with malevolent vines that writhed and churned, baying for violence.

A terrifying sight. Ariel and Caliban both began to bark and hiss, moving in front of Gwen to defend her against this uncertain foe.

"Force of Nature!" Henry invoked.

Suddenly, the Dyrad was everywhere. She expanded massively, almost filling up the entire chamber. Her form was no longer even that of a terrifying hag but something inhuman. She became a shambling behemoth where she stood, the mist of deep swamps and dark forests cascaded from innumerable fishhook barbs grown from numberless vines. From a tenebrous mass, two glowing eyes stared out, her gaze as pitiless as the blistering sun.

Gwen felt her face and lips grow as pale as ivory, her feet frozen, her arms arresting to either side.

Ariel cowered and whimpered, suddenly turning over on its belly, trying to play dead. Caliban shrunk its profile closer to the floor, coiling to strike. Unlike Ariel, it had known no existence before its summoning. It felt no terror, knew no fear. As long as Gwen was alive, it could exist again.

"Sufina, enough."

Sufina shrunk, now once against a shy maiden, albeit brushing off dangerous, razor-sharp thorns from her leafy dress. She gave them a reassuring smile, her sparkling gemstone eyes twinkling.

"Are you afraid of Sufina?"

Gwen nodded, then shook her head.

"A valiant defence, Caliban," Henry complemented the serpent, throwing it another crystal. Ariel rolled over guiltily and begged at Gwen's feet with both paws upon her knees. Gwen patted its fur, feeling its remorse through their Empathic Link.

Caliban raised its head smugly, rearing its head and wagging its tail. Gwen reached out gingerly; the serpent coiled around her leg, finding purchase on her calves before crawling into her lap. Its cold touch was ticklish, like ice dabbed against one’s skin. It rubbed its cheeks on her hand, the opening around its forehead carapace, leaving a snail-trail of grey fluid across her fingers.

"It is a good Path you have chosen, Gwen, but you cannot walk it alone. You will need allies. Ariel and Caliban of course, but also others who would support you. You will need friends, family, advisors and associates. It is not your spells that you need to fear but the isolation brought by its abuse."

"The Spell of the hand," Gwen pondered aloud, "against the Spell of the heart. I will try, Master."

For a second she wondered if Henry would interject with “Do. Or do not. There is no try.” but the old Master merely nodded affirmatively.

"Gwen," her Master's next words took on quiet solemnity, "please accept my apologies for what happened with Mark."

Gwen awoke from her inner dialogue with a start. "Master, you shouldn't have to!" she interjected. Sure, it was poor judgement on Henry's part, but who could have known Mark's madness?

"Oh, but I must." Henry's voice possessed a painful note. "I am afraid I sent you to him with selfish designs."

"Master?"

"You see Gwen, until Mark had told me the truth, I hadn't truly understood why I was so eager to take you on, why I felt such a desire to shape your Path."

"Sir…"

"Let me finish." He waved a hand in front of her. "You see, Mark was right. I did want to repeat the past. A part of me always wondered what would have happened if I had stopped Elizabeth. If I had recognised her weakness, her suffering. I guess when I saw you Awaken to the Void in that chamber, I saw it as my redemption, to resolve a past I hadn't truly understood."

He took a deep breath. "Can you forgive an old man for doing such a selfish thing?"

Gwen placed a slender hand on top of Henry's own, feeling his paper-like skin. "I forgive you, Master," Gwen said earnestly. She had been angry at first, of course, beyond indignant, but her anger had been anaesthetised by Mark’s maniacal face, his spittle-charged gloating, his slumped body as Gunther took him away like a leg of lamb. He who hunts monsters should beware; the old aphorism offered a good lesson. “I will not fall to the hunger like Elizabeth. Master, you have my word.”

Henry nodded appreciatively, seemingly having reached another conclusion. "Would you like to know what Mark meant? What he was accusing you of?"

Gwen felt her throat constrict slightly; she had an inkling of what Mark suspected. Did she want to know? She did. She preferred to be armed with knowledge than flee from its burden.

Chapter fifty-one

Fortune's Fool

“You are certain?” Henry asked again. “If my suspicions are correct, then there is no turning back from this, Gwen. There will be no shield of ignorance left to protect you from the full force of temptation. Caliban's supernatural hunger would hardly compare to what allure this knowledge could hold.”

'I won't turn from knowledge, Master."

Henry drained the last of his mead. “Then let us proceed to the Greater Cognisance Chamber.”

The same guards were on the platform as when they had left, enviously appraising Gwen’s luck to be visiting the chamber with a mentor the magnitude of the one of the Ten. Toward her “seniors”, Gwen acted both coy and friendly, the three of them sharing pleasant banter while Henry kept himself occupied by meditating.

“They like you,” Henry noted when they stepped into the privacy of the chamber. “You could do well here if you choose to return after your studies. The Tower always needs young blood. Oceania is a volatile region.”

“I’ll consider it, Master.” Gwen smiled anxiously. She would worry about her future after her moment of truth.

With a thrum, the chamber activated. Gwen stepped into the centre as the Glyphs completed their arcane circuits. Below her sandals, her Astral Soul projected outwards, the entire floor becoming a mirror plane splitting the material world above and the Astral world below.

Henry proceeded in a perimeter around Gwen, muttering to himself as he did so. “Try to activate the Sigils as I call them out, Gwen.”

“Yes, Master.” Her heart pounded. What was Mark so interested in and what had he uncovered regarding Elizabeth Sobel?

Her illusory Astral Body was alluring as usual—a delicate art sculpture of the female form with long and elegant limbs, radiating motes of light and darkness that alternatively expanded, then consumed one another.

“Evocation.” Gwen channelled mana through her conduits. The Sigil of Evocation blazed before her, brighter than she recalled.

“Your proficiency has yet again improved, Gwen. Making good progress towards tier IV.”

“That’s…” Gwen felt a dark premonition begin to rise from the back of her mind. “That’s impossible, Master. I was only Tier III two months ago! The training times are exponential! I couldn’t be tier IV even with relentless training for the next twelve months!”

“I see,” Henry replied with no particular emotion, not even a hint of question or curiosity. “Let us proceed.”

“Conjuration.” Gwen switched to the other Schools of Magic by using well-practised minor incantations. Not far from her blazing Evocation Sigil, her Conjuration flashed a bright silver.

To her disappointment and relief, it was the same as when she had last been tested. It had grown a little, but the difference was nothing like the sudden spurt of the Evocation Sigil.

“Abjuration.” The light of the Conjuration Sigil faded. With meticulous care, Gwen constructed the Abjuration Sigil used for the activation of the Shield Spell. She was well-trained, but even so, it would take at least a second for her to manifest.

Then, instantly and without warning, the Sigil for Abjuration formed. It glowed warmly beside the others, a gunmetal Sigil of protection.

Gwen regarded the arcane symbol before her with disbelief. No. The spectacle couldn’t be real. It couldn't possibly be real. Was there a problem with the chamber? Was the illusion showing her falsehoods rather than a resonance?

“Master,” her voice trembled, from fear, horror, or excitement she could not know.

“A poorly awakened Abjurer too, I see,” Henry again commented without any particular emotion. “Pay it no heed. Continue.”

Her back grew sodden with sweat, soaking her cardigan. “Yes, Master.”

“Divination.” Another dim glow, this time weak and ineffective.

Gwen was almost choking on her discoveries now. What did it mean? What could it infer? Was this what Mark was trying to expose? If so, she was in far more trouble than she had thought.

“You’re going to need a bit more training to start using Message spells. Attunement to Divination Towers is an art unto itself.” Henry was relentless, commenting upon each shocking surprise as though they were dishes at a degustation.

“Master,” Gwen moaned. She was almost afraid to continue. What if it was true? What if it was real? Void Magic was a Pandora’s box! It was stealing fire from the gods! How can anyone with an ability like this end well?

“Illusion,” Henry commanded.

“I… I don’t know how, Master,” Gwen breathed out a sigh of relief. It was true. Illusion had been too difficult for someone so practical and lacking in imagination.

“Fine. Transmutation.”

Gwen had to take a moment to stifle her quickened breath and allow her heart to return to a cadence that allowed for the concentration necessary to maintain cross-class Sigils.

In front of her Master, she drew the Sigil within her mind, first the minor incantations, and then—

It blazed, a deep-purple luminosity that was visible, clearly defined.

“Ah! Tier I already! How fortuitous. A useful and versatile School, Gwen.”

“Oh, Oh Master, I… I…” The moment the Sigil triggered, Gwen felt her chest constrict, her body shook, quivering with both ecstasy and distress.

“One final School, Gwen.”

One more? One more! How could she stand yet another school? It was too much! It was overwhelming. Her life was already turned upside down by her Void Magic and now it was going to gift her with even more boon and bane?

She began to hyperventilate, her guts knotting and churning as she fought the panic. Within her stomach, not even the golden mead was staying down, she wanted to hurl, but she was in the midst of a Cognisance Chamber, Lord knows what would show up in the illusion.

“Calm Emotion.”

A refreshing wave of clarity washed over her quaking mindscape, replacing her anxiety with a quiet, contemplative peace. “Thank you, Master.”

“Don't thank me yet." He smiled weakly. “Enchantment?”

She attempted the final school. Thankfully, there was nothing. There was barely a glimmer.

She exhaled.

"Now for the elements." Henry motioned for her to get on with it.

Gwen froze on the spot. "No! That's impossible!" she whimpered.

"That was an ill attempt at humour, I am afraid." Henry smirked uncharacteristically. "It warms my heart to see that even the infallible Miss Song is capable of anguish."

"Master!" Gwen flashed her hazel eyes.

Henry chuckled. "I believe we have proved Mark's pet theory, no?"

"I am fortune's fool," Gwen weakly reflected upon her new gifts as the Cognisance illusion faded.

"Aye, Fortuna is indeed a strange and fickle mistress," Henry concurred.

"What now? Master?" Gwen enquired carefully.

"I saw those dossiers which Mark threw out when Gunther took him in." Henry shook his head. "I believe he was scrying on you the entire time you were trapped and Caliban was active."

Gwen felt a shiver run down her spine. He was watching her being captured, tied, packaged, readied for shipment. He was watching Caliban butcher those poor prisoners.

"I daresay he had a list of the prisoners, and it adds up, I am afraid. There was an Abjurer in there, a few Evokers, two Transmuters."

Gwen felt sick, her blood abruptly cold with dread and wretchedness. Those new Schools of Magic she had gained, they were not hers. They were the talents of people who had been murdered by Caliban. She was a thief, a plunderer, a grave robber. Her knees felt giddy and weak. She had to find an open space and sit, try to orientate her bearings.

"Indeed. What now?" Henry pondered as Gwen hugged her knees, looking forlorn on the floor of the all-white chamber. So many secrets, he mused to himself. They keep piling like soft snow on the mountaintop.

But secrets and Magisters made good companions.

Henry knew not a single Magister who did not have some dire intrigues of his or her own. After all, was not his wife a mass murderer who'd mutilated almost a hundred souls? The Bloody Countess of Eger who terrorised the Hungarian countryside?

Small secrets were like gnats, always wearing one away, but big secrets? They were more like a whetting stone that kept one sharp and focused.

The life of a Mage seeking the Path was already akin to living on a blade's edge—one slip and there was only death or disgrace. Furthermore, if and when Gwen came into the power she desired, how trivial would all her other secrets be? She merely needed to hold one close to her bosom, and that was enough.

The problem was how to bring Gwen to this understanding. She had just professed to embark upon a righteous path of not murdering her enemies. Yet her rare gift demanded that she consume human lives to fuel her Path of idealistic pacificism. Such complex contradictions! What absurd reflections of reality and life!

To Gwen's surprise, her Master stood by her side, radiating a sullen melancholy. "I believe that the greatest mistake we had made was keeping Elizabeth's secret," Henry began, smoothing out his wrinkled jacket. "I don't intend to make that mistake again."

"Master?"

"I have consulted with Surya on this, and we have concluded that only when the world recognises your ability, allowing it to glitter over all faults, would you be safe."

Gwen gazed at her Master uncomprehendingly.

Henry chuckled. "Have you heard the story of the Heart of Flames, Gwen?"

She shook her head. Her family was not exactly one for sweet bedtime stories.

"The short of it is that an Arabian sultan once found the most coveted Creature Core in the world, uncovered from the nest of a long-dead ancient Red Dragon. The core was astoundingly beautiful, and when channelled, provided control of the fire elements equating that of the highest Djinn.

"As one can imagine, the sultan was afraid, terribly afraid, of others finding out about his possession, so he hid the core about his person, only producing it in times of war, as well as in the dark of the night, gazing upon it lovingly and calling it his most precious.”

"But secrets never get buried for long, and many came to covet the sultan's greatest prize. First, the sultan became the target of larceny and theft, but when that failed, his foes turned to his family. His sons, daughters, his wives; one by one, enemies from within and without took them.”

“Still, the sultan refused to give up the core. Ultimately, it was only upon his deathbed, still holding that stone, that he realised his sultanate was at its end. He had no more heirs. The Core could not pass on his legacy.

"Centuries later, when the Heart of Flames eventually passed into the hands of the Britannic Mageocracy, Queen Victoria made an important and unusual decision. She did not hide the core, but instead declared it a national treasure! She split the core in half, mounting the larger portion upon her sceptre and the minor portion her crown. She called them her most precious objects, openly declaring to an adoring public that if they wished to see the stone, they merely needed to pay homage to queen and country before the royal palace during the annual celebrations."

"Did that deter the thieves? I doubt it; such is human nature. But the brilliance of that core now shone with such light that no shadow could approach it, for an entire nation acted to protect it! The Heart of Flames! The symbol of the empire! How could anyone dream of theft? Something so debased and unscrupulous! It would blemish and discredit the very heart of a nation! Do you recall our passionate, nationalistic jingo?"

Gwen shook her head.

Henry cleared his throat and began to sing. “Bring me my wand- of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my Stone! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my Heart of Fire! Who could dream of violating that? The stone was sacrosanct!”

Henry eased over to give Gwen a reassuring pat, his hands hovered here and there, before finally resting on her cheeks. "Do you understand, child?"

Gwen nodded. She understood. She finally comprehended why her notebook placed such emphasis on winning the Inter-High competition, on getting into Sydney University with the most prestigious of scholarships.

The keynote was becoming an existence that was both indispensable and unique. That would be Gwen's metaphysical double-glazed shield. As long as the powers desired the utility of her talents, as long as she could be their beacon of hope, she was safe.

Factions conflicted amongst themselves, and many would have selfish designs on a Void Mage, but that competition was leverage.

Just look at Elizabeth. What greatness could she have achieved without her madness? Even in her guilt as a mass murderer, she had been ironclad. At the end of a dark day, no uncertain threat from an insane Mage could remotely match the certainty of extinction from the Wildlands.

"But my consumption ability." Gwen felt her heart and mind racing; there was one last barrier to dispel, one last knot to untie.

"I am afraid there are no good answers to that," Henry confessed. "Yet that is precisely the point, no? You must own up to your choices, be accountable for your actions. For the abuse of Greatness…"

They said the next few words together, Master and Apprentice achieving a kind of cognitive resonance. "is when remorse is disjointed from power."

The shackles of doubt fell from Gwen's wrists, replaced by a feeling of liberation suffusing her body. Driven by impulse, she embraced Henry. The act seemed to surprise the old man, who for a moment did not know what to do with himself. Their intimacy persisted, though, Gwen digging her face into his shoulder, at which point he sensed a wet warmness upon his collar. Was it her breath? Or perhaps a few drops of his Apprentice's rare emotions?

He returned her embrace, her body young and supple. His, gnarly and knotted by time.

Meanwhile, Gwen had recovered from her impulsive moment and was now burning with embarrassment. In her old world, people would have mockingly called it a paternal complex. They would be right, of course, but was it her fault she had never had a father-figure across two lifetimes? Morye had been mostly apathetic, somewhat aloof, and positively allergic to responsibility. Meanwhile, Henry had untied the knots in her chest, untangled her worries and opened the floodgates of gratitude.

There was a welling of emotion that she had never really understood before she realised that she was in her Master's arms, finding catharsis and resolution.

They separated. The old man looked just as embarrassed as she was.

"I am thinking of announcing to the Tower that you are my Apprentice, Gwen," Henry informed her suddenly, "after the Inter-High competition."

Gwen smiled. There was no need for words.

Henry made an effort to straighten his posture, groaning at the burden of physics involved in the act. Gwen shifted on her knees to brace her venerable Master.

"I supposed now you should return to Surya and enjoy the rest of your summer break."

She blinked. Summer break? Good grief! It was still the summer holidays! She had the whole month of December before school resumed in mid-January. With all that had happened, it seemed as though a lifetime had passed since she’d left for Mark's office.

Her Master had a point. She couldn't go back to the dorms yet; no one else was home. She couldn't go back to Morye's, Helena's or stay at the Tower. There was only Surya's.

“I guess I will.”

"Good. You should look into solidifying your new Schools of Magic. I'll speak to Surya, and we'll get you some basic Transmutation and Divination spells. Keep this between the three of us. No one must know until the right time, not even your friends."

Gwen nodded again, looping her arm around Henry's waist like a faithful granddaughter. Arm-in-arm, the duo made for the levitation platform, the doors to the Cognisance Chamber closing behind them silently.

The platform descended; down and down, round and round, plunging towards the uncertain embrace of Lady Fortuna.

End of Volume 1

To be continued in Volume 2

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Glossary

The primary elements of the material plane are what astrologists propose our world is made from. It is the very stuff of existence itself, existing in perfect harmony. It is suggested that when a Mage is attuned to a certain element, it is because an excessive element is present within their body. Though exceedingly rare, there exist individuals who are born capable of tapping into all four ary elements, becoming mages capable of manipulating wood and other natural phenomena, hypothesised by eastern Spellcraft as an individual element.

Prime Energy Planes

The Positive Plane—The Plane of Positive Energy is a place of pure life force. It is where the healers draw their power to heal and mend one's broken bones. The undead are fearful of this energy and the unwary caster should be as well. Too much positive power without the ability to channel it may lead to strange mutations and cancerous tumours.

Negative Energy—Where Positive is life, Negative is death. The undead are tethered to this plane, drawing their undead lifeforce from this domain. When living creatures utilise Negative energy, they suffer Negative drain—rapidly diminishing vitality. In the old days, the Mage world saw the Negative energy as just another source of power. After WWI, Necromancy became highly controversial, gaining a dangerous reputation as a forbidden craft.

Prime Elemental Planes

Earth—Earth is one of the most useful and common elements awakening in human Mages, it is the element responsible for most of our industry, mining for mana crystals, building our cities and so on. It is said that one-fifth of Mages awaken as Earthen Mages.

Air—The Elemental Plane of Air, as the name suggests, is a place of gases and open space frequently filled with thunderstorms, blizzards, microbursts, tornadoes and all manners of interesting weather phenomena. Of the four common elemental affinities, Air is the rarest.

Fire—Fire is another common element Mages manifest. Ancient legend has it that Fire was stolen from the gods themselves. With Fire, man has created many useful tools and beaten back tides of monstrous creatures. Fire is another common element for Mages to possess and the mainstay of Combat Evokers, Transmuters and Conjurers.

Water—Assumed to be a near-infinite volume of water, this elemental plane is pivotal to the survival of modern magical cities. The plane provides human cities with its supply of fresh water. Likewise, human cities pump their wastewater back into the elemental plane. It is theorised that the oceans are directedly connected to this elemental plane. Water affinity is exceptionally common among coastal communities.

Para-Elemental Planes

Ice—Ice is the most common para-element to Awaken in Mages. It is a supremely useful element that creates drops in temperature, being a combination of Air and Water. The Plane of Ice is said to be a tumbling expanse of frigidity with islands of glacial ice. Ice provides good defensive and offensive capabilities, as well as chill and slow effects against water-based enemies.

Ooze—Ooze is a stranger element, scarce and virtually non-existent outside of isolated magical bloodlines. Ooze Mages are specialists, depending on their school, with spells that focus on entrapment, debilitation, poison and other strange and mysterious effects.

A speciality of the Ooze Conjurer is the ability to summon creatures that exist within that elemental plane—Oozes. It is theorised that some oozes are virtually indestructible except by other specialist Mages. Ooze is a combination of Water and Earth. Mud is a derivative of Ooze, though far closer to the Elemental Plane of Water than true Ooze Mages.

Magma—The Magma Mage is unique indeed; a rare combination of Fire and Earth. These Mages are typically found where there are volcanic islands or fjords. Their power combines the physical prowess of the Earth Mage with the damage potential of the Fire Mage.

Smoke—Smoke is the marriage of Air and Fire. Smoke is an element that is said to only exist in legend. Very little is known about Smoke Mages or the Para-Elemental Plane of Smoke.

Positive Quasi-Elemental Planes

Mineral—Mineral Mages take their capabilities from the form of specialised mineral or metal to which the caster is attuned. As such, the element creates distinct abilities that differ from Mage to Mage. A Mage capable of summoning volcanic stones, for instance, would generate obsidian shards which are brittle and fragile but possess dangerous offensive capabilities. Jedite Mages create powerful super-dense defensive layers. There are rumours that King Midas was a Gold Mage.

Lightning—Existing between the Air and Positive elemental planes, Lightning is the most penetrative of all elements due to its electrical nature. Lightning causes stun and paralysis, in addition to manifesting instantly and delivering payloads in a fraction of a second. Lightning Mages are preferably Evokers, Conjurers or Transmuters. The Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning is said to be a place of plasma, ozone and endless thunder.

Steam—Where the Positive and Water elemental planes meet, one gets Steam. Steam is a rarely seen element. Only a handful of Mages are on record as having tapped into a Goldilocks zone where two elements meet in harmony. There is little known about the plane and its elementalists.

Radiance—Radiance is formed from Fire and Positive energy. Often mistaken for the power of Light. In theory, it should be useless—too scattered to be used offensively, too dispersed to be used defensively. It takes a special Mage, therefore, to change something so immaterial into a powerful projection of destruction.

At a certain intensity, Radiance is capable of melting through solid steel, boiling blood, searing flesh and severing matter. Not much is known about the Elemental Plane of Radiance.

Negative Quasi-Elemental Planes

Ash—A derivative of Negative Fire that manifests corrosive ash and black flames, Ash is the most destructive element in the array of elemental planes. Ash Mages rarely live long, as the element eats away at their minds. It is said that Ash Mages exist as tortured existences whose ruinous powers wrack their bodies with unbelievable pain. If one is Negative drained by an Ash Mage, one loses one's seven emotions and six desires.

Dust—Dust is the most stable of the Negative quasi-elements, next to Salt. It doesn't have any offensive capabilities of its own but enjoys the same corrosive ability drain as Ash. The most annoying part of fighting a Dust Mage is their ability to deaden all elemental damage. Due to its abrogating nature, Dust consumes Fire, Water, Air, Lightning, even Ash. It is said to be the most stalwart Abjuration Affinity next to Mineral.

Salt—Salt is a stable Negative quasi-element with the additional ability to form into a range of crystalline shapes. It's capable of dealing extreme damage to Slimes and Oozes, as well as an assortment of creatures composed mostly of water, including humans.

The desiccation caused by the Salt Mage draws out elemental water from the bodies of their enemies. Elemental Salt is different from mortal salt, found in oceans and sometimes in rocks. It is formed where Negative energy and Water meet. Salt is the least destructive of Negative quasi-elements.

Void—As the name suggests, the Elemental Plane of Void is a place of vast, perpetual darkness where strange, forgotten things lurk in a vacuum darker than black, always hungering. It is a plane consisting of the very idea of nothingness, a place where forgotten things end up. When manifested in the material plane, Void consumes matter, then disappears. Like Steam and Smoke Mages, very little is known about Void Mages. Arguably, the most famous Void Mage in Modern History is Elizabeth Sobel.

Spellcraft and Metaworld Lexicon

Astral Body—The cognitively generated projection of one's connection to the Multiverse, visualised via indoctrinated Spellcraft. Typically manifests as a humanoid silhouette with abstract details pertaining to the user's sigils and elemental affinity. Elements are perceived to be within the astrophysical body, while sigils manifest externally. Only Mages possess astral bodies.

Physical Body—No matter how powerful a Mage may be, they are still biological creatures that need to eat, crap and sleep, subject to Eros and Thanatos, life and death. The physicality of a Mage tends to reflect the degree of their elemental affinity. Most infamously, Earthen Mages have rock-hard physiques, Air Mages are frail and flighty, while Lightning Mages have quickened metabolisms.

Anima (Animus) —Drawn from the theory of the Meister Sigmund Jung, the psyche, the anima (male psyche and common vernacular) and animus (female psyche) inference a being's subconscious self-awareness. Only sapient creatures are classified as capable of possessing anima and animus.

Mana—The gurus of Hinduism refer to this as spiritual energy or Prana. Chinese Doshi denotes this spiritual energy as Qi. Early western theology referred to this energy as Faith or Zeal. Modern Spellcraft unified the term as mana, a generic word for mystical energies of any kind. The astral body produces mana as it interacts with Glyphs and gates, channelling mana into conduits of the physical body.

Mana Pool—The maximum amount of mana which a Mage can produce. When the astral body is no longer capable of producing mana, this is referred to as OOM or Out of Mana. VMI—Volumetric Mana Index—is the official nomenclature for measuring a Mage's mana pool.

Mana Channel—Often confused with the concept of a Mana Conduit, a Mana Channel refers to metaphysical pathways by which mana produced by the astral body enters the Mage's physical body. A Mage's Mana Channels can never be damaged without injury to their astral body.

Gate and Conduit—A gate refers to nomenclature describing the effect of non-elementally attuned mana becoming suffused with the Mage's element. This elementally-attuned mana then feeds back into the physical body. The pathways through the Mage's physical body are referred to as Mana Conduits. Damage to the physical body damages one's Mana Conduits.

Essence—A metaphysical form of energy derived from a being's existence. Referred to commonly as one's soul or spirit in ancient Spellcraft, contemporary Spellcraft sees essence as a hitherto little-known form of energy, separate from mana.

Creatures possessing great magical power and ego possess higher degrees of essence. Likewise, sapient beings typically possess greater essence than their non-sapient peers of the same subtype. NoMs, in general, possess little essence. human and demi-human Mages possess immense essence, a fact profoundly valuable to the study of Necromancy. Theoretical Spellcraft proposes that essence is tied to a Mage's ability to access particular Schools of Magic.

School of Magic (Imperial Metric Schools) —Since unifying the study of magic under the IMS during the Spellcraft Revolution at the turn of the twentieth century, seven Schools of Magic exist—Evocation, Transmutation, Conjuration, Abjuration, Divination, Enchantment and Illusion.

Hybrid School of Magic—Rarely, some Mages awaken with magic in between the Sanctioned Schools of Magic, belonging to no school. Of these types of magic, Biomancy, the manipulation of Postive energy and Necromancy, the manipulation of Negative energy, reign supreme.

Awakening—The term is loosely used to describe an Acolyte coming to terms with their first School of Magic and their affinity for an element. In frontier cities, NoM civilians are filtered, with potential Mages tested for aptitude. In tier one cities, Mages naturally grow into their powers, training from an early age. A stimuli crystal may be used to induce an Awakening, circulating mana into the recipient as to jolt their astral bodies into existence.

Spellcraft—The study of magic. The Imperial Metric System (IMS) splits spells into nine Tiers.

Advanced Spellcraft Theorems—Spells whose theory and manifestation fall outside existing methodology. Most universities study advanced Spellcraft to push past the current boundaries of human knowledge of magic. Those who contribute significantly to this study are awarded the title of Meister.

Sanctioned and Unsanctioned Magic—Sanctioned magic may be purchased by Tower Mages with LDMs, HDMs and CCs. Unsanctioned magic may only be acquired through petition. If a Mage is found practising unlicensed unsanctioned magic, they are subject to severe punishments and even disbarment.

Sigil—A spiritual manifestation of one's affinity for particular forms of magic, tied to the generation of one's astral body during Awakening. Each School of Magic possesses a unique sigil under the IMS visualisation doctrine.

Glyph—Sigils exist only in one's mind. When Mages wish to manifest the concept of sigils externally, they turn to glyphs. Glyphs vary but may be thought of as symbols of power capable of channelling magical energy as though a man-made conduit existing outside the Mage's body. Magic items and enchantments such as wards rely exclusively on complex glyphs and mandalas.

Mandala—Originating from Tibetian mysticism, Mandala refers to large-scale, complex glyph arrays used to support complex Spellcraft manifestations.

Spell—A series of incantations both somatic and verbal which triggers magical phenomena when exercised with mana from a Mage's astral body.

Rite—A spell requiring time, preparation and setup. Typically includes meditation, ritual and complex external components. Rites include city-wide strategic-class spells.

Incantation—Invocations with somatic and verbal components. These are mnemonics which manifest magic through sigils. The higher the tier of magic, the more complex and convoluted the number of major and minor incantations. Senior and experienced Mages may specialise in particular spells so that they become “silent”.

Shield (Mage) —Shield refers to the mental ability of Mages to form a barrier of mana around their physical bodies. Even without training, Mages are capable of manifesting a membrane of mana projected just outside their physical body, which displaces hostile mana and foreign objects. Abjuration specialises in forming persistent shields and shields that can manifest on Mages other than the caster.

Acolyte—Neophytes and Acolytes are the colloquial names for beginner Mages. The moniker of Mage or Senior Mage is given to those with mastery over at least one School of Magic, meaning access to spells over tier IV.

Magus—A Magus is an arcanist who has gained multiple Schools of Magic through talent or laborious study. To be called a Magus in public, the Mage must undergo examination within a Tower.

Magister—Likewise, a Magister is a peer-reviewed, publically-sanctioned Magic Caster. Unlike the moniker of Magus, Magister is a title that comes with the weight of public service and responsibility of upholding the Tower's interest.

Meister—A Meister is a Magister, but not all Magisters can become a Meister. A Meister is a Mage who has contributed significant advancement to Spellcraft, and whose work benefits all of mankind. Claude Van Saint, the famous healer who pioneered modern magical medicine, is a Meister. Philo R. Farnsworth, the man responsible for proving that Illusions may exist as a form of media stored in capture crystals, is a Meister. As powerful as famous individuals like Henry Kilroy have been, his preference for keeping his studies wrapt and secret excludes him from the title of Meister.

Magi— A Mage whose power and command over Spellcraft exceed sanctioned limits, going beyond the nine tiers. A Magi rarely concerns themselves with worldly affairs. They are seen as humanity's greatest deterrence against demi-human and magical creature incursions. It is unfortunate that Magi are typically old and venerable.

Sanctioned Mage—A Mage registered under a Tower, beholden to its laws, codes of conduct, and ethics for the public practice of Spellcraft.

Rogue Mage— A Free Mage that is not registered, practices magic freely and therefore is perceived as dangerous to society.

Tier (spell) —Tier I to IX of Spellcraft. Tiers – I to III is accessible to almost all Mages. This tier is capable of combating individuals, as well as groups of Monsters. Tiers – IV to VI exists within the realm of all Maguses as well as most Senior Mages with a single School of Magic. This tier is capable of wiping out monster lairs and demi-human villages. Tier –VII to IX is open usually to Magisters for reasons of both academic access as well as state sanction. High tiers of magic can act as strategic class spells capable of wiping out cities.

Tier (Affinity) —The attunement of a Mage to their element. The higher the affinity, the higher the efficacy for damage and mana cost. As Affinity grows, damage increases by a magnitude of ten percent for every observable tier. Likewise, mana cost for spells decreases with higher affinity. Though damage increase appears to be on a linear scale, mana cost suffers from diminishing returns. As such, a spell will never be “free”.

Higher affinity likewise involves physiological and psychological changes for the Mage in question. Some examples are provided below, taken from the story-in-progress. Fire Mages are often hot-tempered and over-zealous, possessing a short fuse. Physiologically, they gain resistance to cold and heat. Air Mages become fragile and whispy, becoming airy and flighty in their mannerisms. Earthen Mages undergo the most profound physiological change, becoming taller and more robust, with enhanced musculature, increasing both strength and fortitude. Water Mages are known to be pliable and easily convinced, with personalities that like water, and are capable of fitting any vessel. Lightning Mages gain increased metabolism, becoming prideful and possessive beings. Ash Mages are known to become apathetic. Their emotions become dulled by the continued practice of Ash Magic until they waste away. Void Mages are rumoured to exhibit extreme hunger, both physiologically and in terms of their psychological demands. Ooze Mages are said to be slothful and lazy, unmotivated and uninspired. Mineral Mages become dispassionate and pragmatic, often their eyes take on the likeness of their attuned mineral element. Positive Energy Mages are ubiquitously known to be amiable, friendly and full of life and vigour, possessing a halo of likability.

Tier (Creature) —A generic classification system used in common parlance to ratify the danger level of a particular creature. Goblins usually have a tier of I. A raid of goblins may be up to IV or V, an adult dragon up to XI. A leviathan with a swarm of mermen may be up to –twenty-five to thirty, requiring the mobilisation of a Tower or Towers.

Class (Monster) —Military lexicon for the number of Mages needed to pacify a threat. Soldier Class infers a single Mage. Lieutenant Class infers the need for a Magus or two or more Mages. General Class requires a Magister. Usually, a party of Mages may subdue a Lieutenant-Class magical creature. A party of Senior Mages lead by a Magus may defeat a General-Class creature. Some creatures, such as titans (overlarge monsters) and mythics (land gods) are likewise a part of this denomination. Class systems differ from nation to nation and are not an official Tower designation.

Wildlands—Lands not occupied by human cities, separated into zones.

Green—relatively safe for NoM habitation.

Orange—unsafe for occupancy, safe for Mages to traverse.

Purple—dangerous for both Mages and NoMs, contains hostile creatures that will disrupt human habitation.

Black—extremely dangerous for human habitation. Zone includes creatures that predate on humans. Environmental factors may also play into codified zoning.

Demi-Humans—Humanoid races that share the Prime Material Plane with humans. Friendly species include Nordic and Bavarian dwarves, Celtic elves, German gnomes and hobbits from New Zealand. Hostile races include goblinoids, dragonoids, harpies, serpentfolk, merfolk, mermen (Oceanic), lizardmen, dryads and other sapient beings capable of speech. Like most magical creatures, these beings possess a core. Some demi-humans are capable of interbreeding with humans. The majority of human cities are highly xenophobic and racially homogeneous.

Magical Creatures—Creatures generated by nature where the veil between the prime material and the elemental planes are weak. Current theory infers they are elemental creatures that manifest into the Prime Material. Magical creatures possess cores, which are condensed mana that serve as the anchor of the creature's essence to the prime material, giving it life.

Cores (Creature) —From the lowest Gobs to the highest ancient dragon, all magical creatures possess cores. Upon death, the core shatters, releasing the wild energies contained within. Interesting fact—ancient creatures have highly condensed and compact cores that are virtually impervious to damage.

Spirit (s) —When a creature possesses a high level of anima, its core may contain a spirit. Spirits are potentially found in all forms of creature cores, though typically, it is exceedingly rare amongst lower order magical creatures. For spirit-Seekers, the irony lies in that billions of low-tier creatures exist with a lottery's chance of possessing a spirit. While beings with a high probability of retaining a core upon death, as well as possessing both ego and anima, are exceedingly rare, they are more often than not incredibly powerful.

Spirit (Mage) —Mages dream of augmenting their elemental powers with a spirit. A spirit may be acquired through directly killing and harvesting cores, then bending the will of the anima of the creature contained therein to the mage's service. When successfully attuned, the spirit is absorbed into the Mage's astral body, becoming a part of the Mage's ability to channel elemental powers.

The alternate method of gaining a spirit is through taming existing magical creatures and opening one's astral body to the foreign spirit. This methodology is considered highly irregular and potentially fatal for an unsuspecting Mage incapable of melding with the entity.

Familiars—Typically, the Conjure Familiar spell is responsible for bonding elemental entities to a Mage's psyche or anima. Such creatures are manifested from the psyche of the caster. When a spirit is partnered with the Mage, the anima of the spirit usually takes the form of the familiar. When a spirit is bonded with a Mage already in possession of a familiar, it usually subsumes the form of the familiar and replaces it with its own. It is not known if familiars can become spirits through gaining ego and animus.

The Frontier—Originally a term denoting cities which were cut off from logistical support after WWII, the term has grown to encompass all human territories lacking geodynamic ley lines. Some frontier cities such as Merauke, Darwin, Chittagong and Izmir are little more than human havens eking out a living in the wilderness, serving as little more than trading ports and supply stations. Prosperous frontier cities such as Sydney, Singapore, Naples and Las Vegas, have a quality of life nearing tier one cities in all but name, lacking the geography, natural resources and political power to ascend into the status of a tier one city. With exceptions akin to continental hub cities like Singapore and Istanbul, the vast majority of frontier cities have limited access to Spellcraft and Magitech.

Tier One Cities—Cities built around powerful convergences of ley lines are considered tier one cities. These cities have the near-perpetual energy to supply to their internal and external shielding stations. To apply for tier one status, a city-state must pass muster with the Commonwealth Towers, joining the network of tier one cities.

Shielding Station—A stationary mini-tower built to withstand the elements, manned by abjurers and a patrolling team of Mages. At the heart of the shielding station is a Resonance Crystal which projects a frequency harmful to all beings possessing cores that are not attuned to a Mage. A Shield Generator Tower creates the resonance, visually manifesting as a shimmering wall or barrier, and additional, smaller station refract the shielding.

Tower—A robust structure with inbuilt Enchantments. A Tower can vary in size, function and power. In most cities, the Tower functions as a way-station, a bastion and a nerve centre for all magical matter. Even the most basic Tower includes the ability to amplify the manifestation of Spellcraft of its stationed Mages, the levitation of its structural body, long-distance teleportation and displacement, and the ability to act as a mass-communication Divination array. A tier one city's ley lines usually provide power to the Tower. For frontier cities with limited geodynamic supplies of mana, a significant cargo of HDMs is required.

The Towers—The United Nation Council of Towers (UN) refers to a coalition of all Towers from around the world formed after World War II's Beast Tide. Akin to the UN in Gwen's old world, the Towers sanctify and ratify the regulation of Spellcraft, the status of city-states, and mediate the conflicts of interest between human nations.

Tower (Commonwealth) —Towers belonging to the old British Mageocracy, said to have conquered more than fifty percent of all human lands in its golden age. The Commonwealth forms a loose factional coalition through a shared ideology of social democracy, English as a primary language, and mutual defence pacts.

Tower (Independent) —Towers not beholden to any specific faction and are wholly independent (on paper). Singapore, Istanbul, Tel Aviv and Hong Kong are examples.

Tower (State Owned) —Towers that are a part of the global network of towers but are beholden to their city-states or nations. Almost all non-independent towers belong to this category.

NoMs—Non-magical human beings, also derivatively known as No-Magic. In the frontier and tier one cities, NoMs serves as a labour force. The majority of NoMs work in agriculture and manufacturing, with a small percentile working in administration and other white-collar positions. Most NoMs, whether because of indoctrination or the social climate, see the possibility of becoming a Mage or introducing a Mage to their bloodline to be a way out of a life of oppression, poverty and mediocrity.

House (Mage) —A bloodline of Mages usually with a powerful or influential progenitor. A House usually includes three or more generations of Mages. A Branch House is when a potential heir, usually a sibling, starts a new House with the same bloodline.

Elements & Elemental Magic

The Prime Material Realm

The primary elements of the material plane are what astrologists propose our world is made from. It is the very stuff of existence itself, existing in perfect harmony. It is suggested that when a Mage is attuned to a certain element, it is because an excessive element is present within their body. Though exceedingly rare, there exist individuals who are born capable of tapping into all four ary elements, becoming mages capable of manipulating wood and other natural phenomena, hypothesised by eastern Spellcraft as an individual element.

Prime Energy Planes

The Positive Plane—The Plane of Positive Energy is a place of pure life force. It is where the healers draw their power to heal and mend one's broken bones. The undead are fearful of this energy and the unwary caster should be as well. Too much positive power without the ability to channel it may lead to strange mutations and cancerous tumours.

Negative Energy—Where Positive is life, Negative is death. The undead are tethered to this plane, drawing their undead lifeforce from this domain. When living creatures utilise Negative energy, they suffer Negative drain—rapidly diminishing vitality. In the old days, the Mage world saw the Negative energy as just another source of power. After WWI, Necromancy became highly controversial, gaining a dangerous reputation as a forbidden craft.

Prime Elemental Planes

Earth—Earth is one of the most useful and common elements awakening in human Mages, it is the element responsible for most of our industry, mining for mana crystals, building our cities and so on. It is said that one-fifth of Mages awaken as Earthen Mages.

Air—The Elemental Plane of Air, as the name suggests, is a place of gases and open space frequently filled with thunderstorms, blizzards, microbursts, tornadoes and all manners of interesting weather phenomena. Of the four common elemental affinities, Air is the rarest.

Fire—Fire is another common element Mages manifest. Ancient legend has it that Fire was stolen from the gods themselves. With Fire, man has created many useful tools and beaten back tides of monstrous creatures. Fire is another common element for Mages to possess and the mainstay of Combat Evokers, Transmuters and Conjurers.

Water—Assumed to be a near-infinite volume of water, this elemental plane is pivotal to the survival of modern magical cities. The plane provides human cities with its supply of fresh water. Likewise, human cities pump their wastewater back into the elemental plane. It is theorised that the oceans are directedly connected to this elemental plane. Water affinity is exceptionally common among coastal communities.

Para-Elemental Planes

Ice—Ice is the most common para-element to Awaken in Mages. It is a supremely useful element that creates drops in temperature, being a combination of Air and Water. The Plane of Ice is said to be a tumbling expanse of frigidity with islands of glacial ice. Ice provides good defensive and offensive capabilities, as well as chill and slow effects against water-based enemies.

Ooze—Ooze is a stranger element, scarce and virtually non-existent outside of isolated magical bloodlines. Ooze Mages are specialists, depending on their school, with spells that focus on entrapment, debilitation, poison and other strange and mysterious effects.

A speciality of the Ooze Conjurer is the ability to summon creatures that exist within that elemental plane—Oozes. It is theorised that some oozes are virtually indestructible except by other specialist Mages. Ooze is a combination of Water and Earth. Mud is a derivative of Ooze, though far closer to the Elemental Plane of Water than true Ooze Mages.

Magma—The Magma Mage is unique indeed; a rare combination of Fire and Earth. These Mages are typically found where there are volcanic islands or fjords. Their power combines the physical prowess of the Earth Mage with the damage potential of the Fire Mage.

Smoke—Smoke is the marriage of Air and Fire. Smoke is an element that is said to only exist in legend. Very little is known about Smoke Mages or the Para-Elemental Plane of Smoke.

Positive Quasi-Elemental Planes

Mineral—Mineral Mages take their capabilities from the form of specialised mineral or metal to which the caster is attuned. As such, the element creates distinct abilities that differ from Mage to Mage. A Mage capable of summoning volcanic stones, for instance, would generate obsidian shards which are brittle and fragile but possess dangerous offensive capabilities. Jedite Mages create powerful super-dense defensive layers. There are rumours that King Midas was a Gold Mage.

Lightning—Existing between the Air and Positive elemental planes, Lightning is the most penetrative of all elements due to its electrical nature. Lightning causes stun and paralysis, in addition to manifesting instantly and delivering payloads in a fraction of a second. Lightning Mages are preferably Evokers, Conjurers or Transmuters. The Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning is said to be a place of plasma, ozone and endless thunder.

Steam—Where the Positive and Water elemental planes meet, one gets Steam. Steam is a rarely seen element. Only a handful of Mages are on record as having tapped into a Goldilocks zone where two elements meet in harmony. There is little known about the plane and its elementalists.

Radiance—Radiance is formed from Fire and Positive energy. Often mistaken for the power of Light. In theory, it should be useless—too scattered to be used offensively, too dispersed to be used defensively. It takes a special Mage, therefore, to change something so immaterial into a powerful projection of destruction.

At a certain intensity, Radiance is capable of melting through solid steel, boiling blood, searing flesh and severing matter. Not much is known about the Elemental Plane of Radiance.

Negative Quasi-Elemental Planes

Ash—A derivative of Negative Fire that manifests corrosive ash and black flames, Ash is the most destructive element in the array of elemental planes. Ash Mages rarely live long, as the element eats away at their minds. It is said that Ash Mages exist as tortured existences whose ruinous powers wrack their bodies with unbelievable pain. If one is Negative drained by an Ash Mage, one loses one's seven emotions and six desires.

Dust—Dust is the most stable of the Negative quasi-elements, next to Salt. It doesn't have any offensive capabilities of its own but enjoys the same corrosive ability drain as Ash. The most annoying part of fighting a Dust Mage is their ability to deaden all elemental damage. Due to its abrogating nature, Dust consumes Fire, Water, Air, Lightning, even Ash. It is said to be the most stalwart Abjuration Affinity next to Mineral.

Salt—Salt is a stable Negative quasi-element with the additional ability to form into a range of crystalline shapes. It's capable of dealing extreme damage to Slimes and Oozes, as well as an assortment of creatures composed mostly of water, including humans.

The desiccation caused by the Salt Mage draws out elemental water from the bodies of their enemies. Elemental Salt is different from mortal salt, found in oceans and sometimes in rocks. It is formed where Negative energy and Water meet. Salt is the least destructive of Negative quasi-elements.

Void—As the name suggests, the Elemental Plane of Void is a place of vast, perpetual darkness where strange, forgotten things lurk in a vacuum darker than black, always hungering. It is a plane consisting of the very idea of nothingness, a place where forgotten things end up. When manifested in the material plane, Void consumes matter, then disappears. Like Steam and Smoke Mages, very little is known about Void Mages. Arguably, the most famous Void Mage in Modern History is Elizabeth Sobel.

Spellcraft and Metaworld Lexicon

Astral Body—The cognitively generated projection of one's connection to the Multiverse, visualised via indoctrinated Spellcraft. Typically manifests as a humanoid silhouette with abstract details pertaining to the user's sigils and elemental affinity. Elements are perceived to be within the astrophysical body, while sigils manifest externally. Only Mages possess astral bodies.

Physical Body—No matter how powerful a Mage may be, they are still biological creatures that need to eat, crap and sleep, subject to Eros and Thanatos, life and death. The physicality of a Mage tends to reflect the degree of their elemental affinity. Most infamously, Earthen Mages have rock-hard physiques, Air Mages are frail and flighty, while Lightning Mages have quickened metabolisms.

Anima (Animus) —Drawn from the theory of the Meister Sigmund Jung, the psyche, the anima (male psyche and common vernacular) and animus (female psyche) inference a being's subconscious self-awareness. Only sapient creatures are classified as capable of possessing anima and animus.

Mana—The gurus of Hinduism refer to this as spiritual energy or Prana. Chinese Doshi denotes this spiritual energy as Qi. Early western theology referred to this energy as Faith or Zeal. Modern Spellcraft unified the term as mana, a generic word for mystical energies of any kind. The astral body produces mana as it interacts with Glyphs and gates, channelling mana into conduits of the physical body.

Mana Pool—The maximum amount of mana which a Mage can produce. When the astral body is no longer capable of producing mana, this is referred to as OOM or Out of Mana. VMI—Volumetric Mana Index—is the official nomenclature for measuring a Mage's mana pool.

Mana Channel—Often confused with the concept of a Mana Conduit, a Mana Channel refers to metaphysical pathways by which mana produced by the astral body enters the Mage's physical body. A Mage's Mana Channels can never be damaged without injury to their astral body.

Gate and Conduit—A gate refers to nomenclature describing the effect of non-elementally attuned mana becoming suffused with the Mage's element. This elementally-attuned mana then feeds back into the physical body. The pathways through the Mage's physical body are referred to as Mana Conduits. Damage to the physical body damages one's Mana Conduits.

Essence—A metaphysical form of energy derived from a being's existence. Referred to commonly as one's soul or spirit in ancient Spellcraft, contemporary Spellcraft sees essence as a hitherto little-known form of energy, separate from mana.

Creatures possessing great magical power and ego possess higher degrees of essence. Likewise, sapient beings typically possess greater essence than their non-sapient peers of the same subtype. NoMs, in general, possess little essence. human and demi-human Mages possess immense essence, a fact profoundly valuable to the study of Necromancy. Theoretical Spellcraft proposes that essence is tied to a Mage's ability to access particular Schools of Magic.

School of Magic (Imperial Metric Schools) —Since unifying the study of magic under the IMS during the Spellcraft Revolution at the turn of the twentieth century, seven Schools of Magic exist—Evocation, Transmutation, Conjuration, Abjuration, Divination, Enchantment and Illusion.

Hybrid School of Magic—Rarely, some Mages awaken with magic in between the Sanctioned Schools of Magic, belonging to no school. Of these types of magic, Biomancy, the manipulation of Postive energy and Necromancy, the manipulation of Negative energy, reign supreme.

Awakening—The term is loosely used to describe an Acolyte coming to terms with their first School of Magic and their affinity for an element. In frontier cities, NoM civilians are filtered, with potential Mages tested for aptitude. In tier one cities, Mages naturally grow into their powers, training from an early age. A stimuli crystal may be used to induce an Awakening, circulating mana into the recipient as to jolt their astral bodies into existence.

Spellcraft—The study of magic. The Imperial Metric System (IMS) splits spells into nine Tiers.

Advanced Spellcraft Theorems—Spells whose theory and manifestation fall outside existing methodology. Most universities study advanced Spellcraft to push past the current boundaries of human knowledge of magic. Those who contribute significantly to this study are awarded the title of Meister.

Sanctioned and Unsanctioned Magic—Sanctioned magic may be purchased by Tower Mages with LDMs, HDMs and CCs. Unsanctioned magic may only be acquired through petition. If a Mage is found practising unlicensed unsanctioned magic, they are subject to severe punishments and even disbarment.

Sigil—A spiritual manifestation of one's affinity for particular forms of magic, tied to the generation of one's astral body during Awakening. Each School of Magic possesses a unique sigil under the IMS visualisation doctrine.

Glyph—Sigils exist only in one's mind. When Mages wish to manifest the concept of sigils externally, they turn to glyphs. Glyphs vary but may be thought of as symbols of power capable of channelling magical energy as though a man-made conduit existing outside the Mage's body. Magic items and enchantments such as wards rely exclusively on complex glyphs and mandalas.

Mandala—Originating from Tibetian mysticism, Mandala refers to large-scale, complex glyph arrays used to support complex Spellcraft manifestations.

Spell—A series of incantations both somatic and verbal which triggers magical phenomena when exercised with mana from a Mage's astral body.

Rite—A spell requiring time, preparation and setup. Typically includes meditation, ritual and complex external components. Rites include city-wide strategic-class spells.

Incantation—Invocations with somatic and verbal components. These are mnemonics which manifest magic through sigils. The higher the tier of magic, the more complex and convoluted the number of major and minor incantations. Senior and experienced Mages may specialise in particular spells so that they become “silent”.

Shield (Mage) —Shield refers to the mental ability of Mages to form a barrier of mana around their physical bodies. Even without training, Mages are capable of manifesting a membrane of mana projected just outside their physical body, which displaces hostile mana and foreign objects. Abjuration specialises in forming persistent shields and shields that can manifest on Mages other than the caster.

Acolyte—Neophytes and Acolytes are the colloquial names for beginner Mages. The moniker of Mage or Senior Mage is given to those with mastery over at least one School of Magic, meaning access to spells over tier IV.

Magus—A Magus is an arcanist who has gained multiple Schools of Magic through talent or laborious study. To be called a Magus in public, the Mage must undergo examination within a Tower.

Magister—Likewise, a Magister is a peer-reviewed, publically-sanctioned Magic Caster. Unlike the moniker of Magus, Magister is a title that comes with the weight of public service and responsibility of upholding the Tower's interest.

Meister—A Meister is a Magister, but not all Magisters can become a Meister. A Meister is a Mage who has contributed significant advancement to Spellcraft, and whose work benefits all of mankind. Claude Van Saint, the famous healer who pioneered modern magical medicine, is a Meister. Philo R. Farnsworth, the man responsible for proving that Illusions may exist as a form of media stored in capture crystals, is a Meister. As powerful as famous individuals like Henry Kilroy have been, his preference for keeping his studies wrapt and secret excludes him from the title of Meister.

Magi— A Mage whose power and command over Spellcraft exceed sanctioned limits, going beyond the nine tiers. A Magi rarely concerns themselves with worldly affairs. They are seen as humanity's greatest deterrence against demi-human and magical creature incursions. It is unfortunate that Magi are typically old and venerable.

Sanctioned Mage—A Mage registered under a Tower, beholden to its laws, codes of conduct, and ethics for the public practice of Spellcraft.

Rogue Mage— A Free Mage that is not registered, practices magic freely and therefore is perceived as dangerous to society.

Tier (spell) —Tier I to IX of Spellcraft. Tiers – I to III is accessible to almost all Mages. This tier is capable of combating individuals, as well as groups of Monsters. Tiers – IV to VI exists within the realm of all Maguses as well as most Senior Mages with a single School of Magic. This tier is capable of wiping out monster lairs and demi-human villages. Tier –VII to IX is open usually to Magisters for reasons of both academic access as well as state sanction. High tiers of magic can act as strategic class spells capable of wiping out cities.

Tier (Affinity) —The attunement of a Mage to their element. The higher the affinity, the higher the efficacy for damage and mana cost. As Affinity grows, damage increases by a magnitude of ten percent for every observable tier. Likewise, mana cost for spells decreases with higher affinity. Though damage increase appears to be on a linear scale, mana cost suffers from diminishing returns. As such, a spell will never be “free”.

Higher affinity likewise involves physiological and psychological changes for the Mage in question. Some examples are provided below, taken from the story-in-progress. Fire Mages are often hot-tempered and over-zealous, possessing a short fuse. Physiologically, they gain resistance to cold and heat. Air Mages become fragile and whispy, becoming airy and flighty in their mannerisms. Earthen Mages undergo the most profound physiological change, becoming taller and more robust, with enhanced musculature, increasing both strength and fortitude. Water Mages are known to be pliable and easily convinced, with personalities that like water, and are capable of fitting any vessel. Lightning Mages gain increased metabolism, becoming prideful and possessive beings. Ash Mages are known to become apathetic. Their emotions become dulled by the continued practice of Ash Magic until they waste away. Void Mages are rumoured to exhibit extreme hunger, both physiologically and in terms of their psychological demands. Ooze Mages are said to be slothful and lazy, unmotivated and uninspired. Mineral Mages become dispassionate and pragmatic, often their eyes take on the likeness of their attuned mineral element. Positive Energy Mages are ubiquitously known to be amiable, friendly and full of life and vigour, possessing a halo of likability.

Tier (Creature) —A generic classification system used in common parlance to ratify the danger level of a particular creature. Goblins usually have a tier of I. A raid of goblins may be up to IV or V, an adult dragon up to XI. A leviathan with a swarm of mermen may be up to –twenty-five to thirty, requiring the mobilisation of a Tower or Towers.

Class (Monster) —Military lexicon for the number of Mages needed to pacify a threat. Soldier Class infers a single Mage. Lieutenant Class infers the need for a Magus or two or more Mages. General Class requires a Magister. Usually, a party of Mages may subdue a Lieutenant-Class magical creature. A party of Senior Mages lead by a Magus may defeat a General-Class creature. Some creatures, such as titans (overlarge monsters) and mythics (land gods) are likewise a part of this denomination. Class systems differ from nation to nation and are not an official Tower designation.

Wildlands—Lands not occupied by human cities, separated into zones.

Green—relatively safe for NoM habitation.

Orange—unsafe for occupancy, safe for Mages to traverse.

Purple—dangerous for both Mages and NoMs, contains hostile creatures that will disrupt human habitation.

Black—extremely dangerous for human habitation. Zone includes creatures that predate on humans. Environmental factors may also play into codified zoning.

Demi-Humans—Humanoid races that share the Prime Material Plane with humans. Friendly species include Nordic and Bavarian dwarves, Celtic elves, German gnomes and hobbits from New Zealand. Hostile races include goblinoids, dragonoids, harpies, serpentfolk, merfolk, mermen (Oceanic), lizardmen, dryads and other sapient beings capable of speech. Like most magical creatures, these beings possess a core. Some demi-humans are capable of interbreeding with humans. The majority of human cities are highly xenophobic and racially homogeneous.

Magical Creatures—Creatures generated by nature where the veil between the prime material and the elemental planes are weak. Current theory infers they are elemental creatures that manifest into the Prime Material. Magical creatures possess cores, which are condensed mana that serve as the anchor of the creature's essence to the prime material, giving it life.

Cores (Creature) —From the lowest Gobs to the highest ancient dragon, all magical creatures possess cores. Upon death, the core shatters, releasing the wild energies contained within. Interesting fact—ancient creatures have highly condensed and compact cores that are virtually impervious to damage.

Spirit (s) —When a creature possesses a high level of anima, its core may contain a spirit. Spirits are potentially found in all forms of creature cores, though typically, it is exceedingly rare amongst lower order magical creatures. For spirit-Seekers, the irony lies in that billions of low-tier creatures exist with a lottery's chance of possessing a spirit. While beings with a high probability of retaining a core upon death, as well as possessing both ego and anima, are exceedingly rare, they are more often than not incredibly powerful.

Spirit (Mage) —Mages dream of augmenting their elemental powers with a spirit. A spirit may be acquired through directly killing and harvesting cores, then bending the will of the anima of the creature contained therein to the mage's service. When successfully attuned, the spirit is absorbed into the Mage's astral body, becoming a part of the Mage's ability to channel elemental powers.

The alternate method of gaining a spirit is through taming existing magical creatures and opening one's astral body to the foreign spirit. This methodology is considered highly irregular and potentially fatal for an unsuspecting Mage incapable of melding with the entity.

Familiars—Typically, the Conjure Familiar spell is responsible for bonding elemental entities to a Mage's psyche or anima. Such creatures are manifested from the psyche of the caster. When a spirit is partnered with the Mage, the anima of the spirit usually takes the form of the familiar. When a spirit is bonded with a Mage already in possession of a familiar, it usually subsumes the form of the familiar and replaces it with its own. It is not known if familiars can become spirits through gaining ego and animus.

The Frontier—Originally a term denoting cities which were cut off from logistical support after WWII, the term has grown to encompass all human territories lacking geodynamic ley lines. Some frontier cities such as Merauke, Darwin, Chittagong and Izmir are little more than human havens eking out a living in the wilderness, serving as little more than trading ports and supply stations. Prosperous frontier cities such as Sydney, Singapore, Naples and Las Vegas, have a quality of life nearing tier one cities in all but name, lacking the geography, natural resources and political power to ascend into the status of a tier one city. With exceptions akin to continental hub cities like Singapore and Istanbul, the vast majority of frontier cities have limited access to Spellcraft and Magitech.

Tier One Cities—Cities built around powerful convergences of ley lines are considered tier one cities. These cities have the near-perpetual energy to supply to their internal and external shielding stations. To apply for tier one status, a city-state must pass muster with the Commonwealth Towers, joining the network of tier one cities.

Shielding Station—A stationary mini-tower built to withstand the elements, manned by abjurers and a patrolling team of Mages. At the heart of the shielding station is a Resonance Crystal which projects a frequency harmful to all beings possessing cores that are not attuned to a Mage. A Shield Generator Tower creates the resonance, visually manifesting as a shimmering wall or barrier, and additional, smaller station refract the shielding.

Tower—A robust structure with inbuilt Enchantments. A Tower can vary in size, function and power. In most cities, the Tower functions as a way-station, a bastion and a nerve centre for all magical matter. Even the most basic Tower includes the ability to amplify the manifestation of Spellcraft of its stationed Mages, the levitation of its structural body, long-distance teleportation and displacement, and the ability to act as a mass-communication Divination array. A tier one city's ley lines usually provide power to the Tower. For frontier cities with limited geodynamic supplies of mana, a significant cargo of HDMs is required.

The Towers—The United Nation Council of Towers (UN) refers to a coalition of all Towers from around the world formed after World War II's Beast Tide. Akin to the UN in Gwen's old world, the Towers sanctify and ratify the regulation of Spellcraft, the status of city-states, and mediate the conflicts of interest between human nations.

Tower (Commonwealth) —Towers belonging to the old British Mageocracy, said to have conquered more than fifty percent of all human lands in its golden age. The Commonwealth forms a loose factional coalition through a shared ideology of social democracy, English as a primary language, and mutual defence pacts.

Tower (Independent) —Towers not beholden to any specific faction and are wholly independent (on paper). Singapore, Istanbul, Tel Aviv and Hong Kong are examples.

Tower (State Owned) —Towers that are a part of the global network of towers but are beholden to their city-states or nations. Almost all non-independent towers belong to this category.

NoMs—Non-magical human beings, also derivatively known as No-Magic. In the frontier and tier one cities, NoMs serves as a labour force. The majority of NoMs work in agriculture and manufacturing, with a small percentile working in administration and other white-collar positions. Most NoMs, whether because of indoctrination or the social climate, see the possibility of becoming a Mage or introducing a Mage to their bloodline to be a way out of a life of oppression, poverty and mediocrity.

House (Mage) —A bloodline of Mages usually with a powerful or influential progenitor. A House usually includes three or more generations of Mages. A Branch House is when a potential heir, usually a sibling, starts a new House with the same bloodline.

Table of Contents

- 1. Some Things Begin, Something Ends
- 2. Awakening
- 3. Pass Conceded
- 4. Familia
- 5. The Longest Day
- 6. It Takes Three to Tango
- 7. A Step in the Right Direction
- 8. No News Like Bad News
- 9. A Team
- 10. A Moment of Truth
- 11. Dark Ritual
- 12. Instructions and Instructors
- 13. The Calm
- 14. A Sound of Thunder
- 15. Oedipus Wrecks
- 16. The House of Huang
- 17. A New Leaf
- 18. First Blood
- 19. The Looming Cloud
- 20. What Great Beast
- 21. The Woods have Wolves
- 22. Riding Hood
- 23. Life
- 24. The Snake, the Lady and the Maiden Fair
- 25. Candles
- 26. Follow the Red Rabbit
- 27. First Impressions
- 28. Secrets and Confessions
- 29. Full Fathom Five
- 30. A Long Way Down
- 31. Sweethearts and Sweet Meats
- 32. Two Hounds on a Hearth
- 33. Some Things Never Change
- 34. Coming Home
- 35. An Old Man’s Favours
- 36. Apples from the Tree
- 37. The Grind
- 38. Here be Monsters
- 39. Of Monsters and Gwen
- 40. A False Start
- 41. The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep
- 42. Miles to go Before She Sleeps
- 43. Sleeping Beauty
- 44. The Hungering Dark
- 45. Crossroads
- 46. Scar Tissue
- 47. Skeletons
- 48. A Slice of Paradise
- 49. He Who Hunts Monsters
- 50. Cruel to be Kind
- 51. Fortune's Fool
- Thank You
- Glossary
- Elements & Elemental Magic