Aren meditated, his magic running free for what felt like the first time in forever. He cast a detection ward over the widest area he could, his attention expanding to a bird’s-eye view, while his mind felt refreshed as his spells sharpened his focus. It felt as if a fog had finally lifted. Watching for any signs of the assassins, he analyzed his latest choices.

  Specifically, his newest friend. Now that he had accepted Crina as one, it was permanent, he could not change that. He wondered if it had been hasty, but as far as he was concerned, the young woman impressed him.

  He always prioritized his personal strength and the outside threats to humanity, and the same could, to large degree, be said of his other friends. On the other hand, Crina, despite being powerless herself, did what she could with the position granted to her to improve the world as much as possible.

  Still, this decision brought him precariously closer to having a stake in the political climate between the two countries, whose feuding dated back centuries. He was certain that even if he got rid of every monster in them, the two nations would still be at each other’s throats. Maybe he could build a golemic wall to stop either country from taking offensive action against the other. No, that idea wouldn’t work.

  Aren thought about the Ayru and their reverence for the Prophet-King’s visions. Whatever their origin, those visions were responsible for the Ayru stance toward magic and, by extension, Vo’Teol.

  Still, such visions were a recurring element in other religions. Their sources varied, from drug-induced episodes to communal rituals and other practices that had not been studied thoroughly enough to identify their true causes. It was an area of study he had largely ignored, but perhaps it was time to turn some of his attention toward it.

  He remembered from his first conversation with Marie that the first Prophet-King had been chosen after the apocalypse that scattered humanity across the continent. Opening his eyes, he turned toward Marie, who was also meditating, though hers was likely religious in nature.

  “Can I take a bit of your time?” Aren asked, keeping his voice low.

  Marie opened her eyes and regarded him for a moment. “We should have a conversation.”

  Her gaze flicked to the curtain separating the front of the sled from the small rear compartment that held a bed. Crina was asleep there, still recovering from the shock of the previous day’s events, and it was the middle of the night. At first, the young woman had resisted sleep, discussing plans for their next steps, but eventually, she relaxed and drifted off, her head resting on Aren’s shoulder.

  “Make one of those privacy bubbles,” she said, already scowling. “I don’t want to wake the Luminous One if I get heated.”

  Aren looked at her and did as she instructed. A faint, invisible veil of mana surrounded them and the small table between them.

  “Honestly, I just meant to ask one question about geography, but there’s something else I need to discuss as well.”

  “I will hear you out first,” Marie said.

  Aren nodded. “I think we should set down some ground rules that we can operate on. Our… cultural differences may have led to more misunderstanding than was optimal.”

  Marie shifted her position, her arm resting on her upright knee as she stared at him from a low tilt. “You call what you did during the festival a cultural misunderstanding?”

  “I… yes, I knew it would anger you, but I didn’t do it out of any ill intention.” Aren felt her patience thinning with each word. “Crina’s cage may be gilded, as you said, but it is still a cage. Within it lies the final threat to humanity, an apocalyptic beast. I simply thought she deserved a day off to herself, especially with the scum sending assassins after her. In my homeland, we value personal freedom.”

  “It must be nice to be you,” Marie said, her tone snide. “Not having to worry about the consequences of your actions. Only doing what you think is right, ramifications be damned. You just magic all the consequences away, don’t you?”

  “I take my responsibilities seriously,” Aren responded, then took a long breath. “I guess it simply comes down to what we value most.”

  Marie looked at him for what felt like an eternity. “Before we continue, I should thank you, for what you did today and for saving the Luminous One. I also mean the first time you saved her. I never did say this.”

  Aren’s eyes widened in surprise, he did not expect this. “Ehm… you are welcome?”

  “Now then, you wanted rules, fine,” she stood up slowly, deliberately.

  “I meant we should discuss them,” Aren said quickly, but she ignored him.

  “ONE: You will never do anything that could endanger the Luminous One again. No sneaking her out. No taking her to shady alleyways. No random magic items given to her without my permission. You will not plan anything without first informing me.”

  Her voice was loud enough that, if not for his privacy screen, it would wake up not only the Luminous One but the whole camp.

  “TWO: You will not disrespect me and my home. You will not trample upon our ways while you are part of this procession.”

  “I…” she did not let him finish.

  “THREE: You will limit your use of magic to the protection of the Luminous One. Otherwise, you will ask for specific permission from me.”

  “...”

  “FOUR: YOU WILL NOT HURT THE LUMINOUS ONE WITH YOUR PRETENSE AT FRIENDSHIP TO MANIPULATE HER IN SOME…”

  She did not finish. Aren had risen and stepped directly into her space, not fast, not sudden, yet enough to make her hesitate to speak further.

  His dark, raven eyes were cold, though specks of their original violet sparked with barely contained emotion.

  When he spoke, each word was whispered, yet echoed crystal-clear within the veil. “I do not pretend at friendship.”

  “If you want me to believe…” Marie said.

  “I don’t care what you believe,” Aren cut her off. “I would never pretend to be someone’s friend for my own gain.”

  She clearly did not believe him, but he sat back down, done with that discussion. “I will adapt to those rules. We need to work together anyway, we still can’t be sure about the full scope of the threat yet.”

  Marie sat down. “You better will, otherwise our deal is off.”

  “I have my own rule,” Aren added. “You will not place a geas on anyone in Mar’tei’s party or threaten anyone with one.”

  “As long as you cooperate properly, I won’t have a need to,” she said.

  Aren huffed. “Can I at least use magic for personal research in private? It’s my duty as an archmage. Outside cities, of course.”

  “As long as no one knows of it and it won’t affect anyone,” she nearly spat the concession out.

  “What about the training golems and Mar’tei’s magic?” he asked.

  “…The first one helps the soldiers grow, so I will allow it,” Marie said. “I don’t know how Mar’tei can be seriously useful to the protection of the Luminous One.”

  “Once she goes through the two processes we were planning, I believe she will be able to use fifth-circle elemental spells within a week. Other types will take longer,” Aren explained.

  “So she will have the type of firepower comparable to the fifth-stage of life enforcement. That could be a tide changer in case both of us are busy and assassins attack in force,” Marie reasoned out.

  “Considering her elemental sorcery, I would say they will be a little more powerful than you expect,” Aren provided.

  Marie looked at him with suspicion but nodded. “Then do it, but no air cushion or other insane, wasteful things. I was tolerant until now, but no more.”

  “Alright.” Aren accepted. He had already promised some of those things to Crina on the first day of the festival, and he would keep to that. Donnavan had also given him some advice on how he should integrate.

  “Now what was it you wanted to ask? Geographic question you said?” Marie shifted the topic.

  “Right. Do you know exactly where the land of Mesungwe is located? I know it’s somewhere in the south, but still within your borders,” Aren asked.

  “I do. While no ruins from that time survived, our scholars are certain the country spanned the once-lush valleys surrounding the Sun’s River,” she replied.

  Aren reached for his storage artifact but hesitated. “Is this brooch fine?”

  “That’s your spatial storage key. I know what it is, that’s fine. Just don’t bring out anything like one of those flying devices you mages love, or any of those mana pylons, unless absolutely necessary,” she said.

  He nodded and pulled out a detailed map of their continent, “Could you point exactly where? I wish to research this so-called Herald of Darkness, I have a spell perfect for this.”

  “Is that going to do anything to affect the beast in its prison?” Marie asked.

  “No. I would not dare such a thing. Anyone meddling with a monster like that is a damned fool, a psychopath, or someone with a death wish,” Aren said, his voice rising with ferocity. “Do you know of the research I presented in my Archmage dissertation?”

  “The details reached us, but they were sparse. From what we gathered, it was about rediscovering lost magic. There was also something about an apocalyptic vision, but since the Prophet-King received nothing of the sort, it’s most likely false,” Marie said with a faint smile. “We’ll probably learn more after the Rain Season, but you can inform me now if you wish.”

  “...That may have been the worst way to coerce someone for another country’s vital information, but fine, I’ll make you work for it,” Aren said with a bright smile. “So you see, my first idea was to look into the wild magic…”

  Marie’s smile fell as he launched into his lengthy explanation, and upon noticing it, he stopped. Crina had advised him to stop doing this. He coughed and restarted, this time properly explaining the topic. Something in Marie’s eyes shifted, and she even asked filling questions.

  “The ground beneath is alive?” Marie asked when he got to that part.

  “Technically, I believe it’s in the leylines,” Aren corrected. “Although that may not be the full picture. While our world is full of mana that comes out of them, we have been unable to figure out where the leylines get their mana from. Anything that comes into contact with the highly dense energy either evaporates or is rejected, and most spells get frayed instantly.

  “My spell uses only the surface connection with the leyline and needs multiple filters and safeties to not consume me the same way the first archmages were.”

  “So you read the memories stored within that mana?” she asked.

  “Basically, that’s the gist of it for now,” Aren admitted. “It will take time to properly research what can be done beyond that. Most likely longer than my lifetime.”

  “You are going to use it to research the Herald of Darkness,” she surmised, then stayed silent.

  “You are not going to ask why?” he asked.

  “I don’t need to,” she said. “You wish to prepare for the meeting with it.”

  “That’s true,” Aren said. He wished to know what he was heading into, and also what Crina would have to deal with.

  “I won’t stop you then,” she said, returning to her meditation pose. “If you discover what the Year of Darkness is, tell me. I may be able to convince the other exemplars that we require additional aid.”

  That sounded reasonable. He nodded and returned to his own meditation. With mana running through him, he began forming the formulas that would let him do what he planned.

  The next week and a half passed under a cover of tense calmness. They visited two cities and were on their way to the third, and their visits were warmly welcomed, yet their abrupt departures left confusion in their wake. Setting camp outside the cities caused further stir, despite the official story of the assassins’ attack.

  Aren spent a lot of his time testing different methods to implement time variables into his past viewing. He tried to use it without them, but the amount of pure information the spell fed him, when he tried to filter through two thousand years of memories all at once, overpowered his mind, and he was forced to drop the spell nearly instantly.

  If he could scour the location, maybe he could discover a resonance spot. The apocalyptic beast used magic and whatever its spells were, they must have left echoes in the local mana. Still, that was a large distance away, and he could not leave Crina alone for so long.

  “This is not working,” Crina said to him.

  He raised his eyes to his new friend and saw her gray eyes, sharp and rattled, flicking with a mixture of exasperation and uncertainty.

  He had been spending a large amount of time at her tent, partly to escape the stares of the whole camp. Crina asked Marie to explain to everyone that they were friends and that Aren was staying by her side to protect her, but it was met with silent skepticism. Not knowing his true might, it sounded like an excuse to most people.

  “What do you mean?” Aren asked.

  “The stays in the cities are too short,” Crina stated. “I’m unable to do anything. In the last city, all I managed was to get a half-hearted promise from the temple’s head priest to send more priests to the nearby villages.”

  “True, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to get a grasp of the true nature of any city in just a few hours,” Aren agreed. “Maybe we could send someone with the advance guard who can investigate for you?”

  Then, after thinking and trying to remember a name for a moment, he added, “Couldn’t the Governor Bar’s daughter do it? Rati goes with the advance guard already to secure the site.”

  “Her current task is more important,” the exemplar who was in silent meditation until now jumped in. “And the Luminous One has already asked Protector Rati about it.”

  Aren raised an eyebrow, unaware of that. Well, it was not as if he needed to know everything. Seeing Marie elect to return to her meditation, he turned his attention back to Crina. He knew that holy warriors needed to internalize their faith deeply to grow in power, and it was likely the exemplar did not want to be surprised ever again.

  “I’m guessing it did not go well?” Aren asked.

  “She is… focused,” Crina chose her words carefully. “She said the economy is doing well and criminality is low. She mentioned that monster attacks are on the rise, but with the Rain Season approaching, that is bound to happen. Still, the governor said he would look into it.”

  Then her lips twitched. “Yet she completely ignored the latest outbreaks of scalepox in the nearby villages.”

  “It’s a mild disease,” Aren analyzed, “from her point of view. She probably thinks it will go away on its own.”

  “If untreated in children for more than a week, it can leave permanent deformities that cripple joints. Even younger priests in their divine training can heal a village in an afternoon.” Crina pouted.

  “I’m not defending ignoring it,” Aren quickly amended, then poked his forehead with two fingers as he thought. “We don’t want to stay in the cities longer than we need to, so we need someone to investigate. That someone has to be attentive, down-to-earth, and know which issues are relevant to everyday life in the Sands. Preferably, they should be able to defend themselves in case assassins try something.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Do we have such a convenient person?” Crina asked, her shoulders falling low.

  “What about Lan?” Aren pointed out. “He’s weirdly attentive. His brother could keep him in check.”

  “He is?” Crina tilted her head. She hadn’t spent much time around the warrior in question.

  “He is. He noticed a recent issue I had after a rather short conversation. He doesn’t have the social grace to know when to stay silent, though,” Aren sighed. “Still, in this case, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Issue?” Crina asked curiously.

  Aren stayed silent for a second. He couldn’t find a reason to hide it from Crina, telling any of his other friends was out of the question, given the complications it would cause.

  “You remember when I told you about my two childhood friends?” Aren started.

  “Leilara and Thomas,” Crina nodded.

  “Yes. Well, when I became an Archmage, I wanted to confess to Leila,” Aren admitted. Even now, though much time had passed, his throat still felt tight at his failure.

  Crina covered her mouth, clearly surprised, but her eyes glinted with curiosity.

  He continued quickly, “Well, long story short, she’s actually in love with someone else, a friend we made while adventuring, and I never confessed. Then, in my surprised state, I flew in a random direction and crashed next to the city where we met, after being ambushed by monsters.”

  “I’m sorry,” her hand fell. “Do you wish to talk about this?”

  “No,” he said a bit too sharply, remembering his discussion with Bar’tik on the topic. Then, realizing that sounded harsh, he coughed and corrected himself, “Not now, at least. Maybe if you get me tipsy.”

  Crina’s eyes widened. “I have not tried alcohol yet. Is it good?”

  He remembered that Crina had been sick until recently. “Sometimes, but at your average inn, not really. Sometimes, though, it’s the only way to handle difficulties you can do nothing about. Good for celebrations too.”

  “I see,” she looked excited at the prospect. “Still, it would be irresponsible to drink when assassins can attack at any time.”

  “I can cast a detoxify spell faster than I can blink,” Aren smiled. The spell had proven useful in his adventuring days, also for dealing with poisonous monsters.

  “Don’t immoralise the Luminous One,” the exemplar said sternly before returning to her meditation.

  Crina chuckled. “Maybe when things are calmer, then.”

  Aren nodded, not wanting to raise the point that things getting calmer was unlikely. “Returning to the topic, Lan?”

  “I worry about sending two three-stage warriors alone into the cities. What if they get ambushed? They clearly have strong fighters on their side,” Crina said, her voice drenched with the latent fear she still held since the attack on the plaza.

  “They are competent warriors,” Aren said matter of factly. The two of them and Bar’tik have been training nonstop since they left. Mar’tei too was buried in his books at the moment.

  “I know, but maybe mister Louis could go with them?” Crina proposed. “You get along with him. Could you ask him? I don’t want it to seem like an order from Marie. He can’t disobey either of us due to the geas. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want him to be forced into it.”

  Aren grimaced. He had not talked with the older warrior yet since leaving Balthen. “I will try.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled gratefully. “Please ask all of them if they are willing. Maybe don’t mention that it was my idea. I don’t want them to separate from the main force into possible danger thinking they are doing holy duty when it’s just my selfish wish.”

  Aren nodded. It made some sense to him. “I will apply my meager diplomatic skills.”

  Then he stood up, stretching his legs. He was feeling great with his mana running freely, but his body could still get stiff from meditating and not really sleeping. “I have a training session with Donnavan soon. They have been getting harsher lately.”

  “They are doing you well. You don’t look pale anymore,” Crina said encouragingly.

  “I’m not sure my definition of pale is the same as people who grew up in the desert,” he said with a weak laugh.

  She waved him off with a smile as he left the tent. Stepping beyond the canvas, eyes turned toward him, their attention as uncomfortable as the setting sun bathing him in heat. At least he was, little by little, growing used to both.

  Following the sounds of battle, he wandered a short distance from the center of the camp to the training area. The warriors were training in united favor, sparring against each other or his golems. He had been asked to increase the number of malleable training partners, and he provided four more, after which he was out of materials for this type.

  On instinct, he summoned a barrier, the holy relic of a forgotten god he now kept on his arm at all times vibrated, and a powerful strike crashed against the swiftly erected defense. He needed to study the weird behaviour of the item, but for now, he was satisfied with the fluid response it provided.

  “That was sloppier than usual, Donnavan,” Aren said, turning to the officer and freezing on the spot.

  The older warrior’s skin was covered in bright scarlet blemishes following his veins and arteries. His eyes were black, and there were spots of dried dark ichor under his nose. Despite the state he was in, he held his sword with practiced grace, not showing any strain in his posture.

  “Did you try to break through to the sixth stage?” Aren recognized the issue immediately.

  Donnavan nodded, “It’s of no matter, let’s get on with your training.”

  Aren knew the warrior must be hurting all over, still he did not mention it. Instead, he offered his magic, “While I’m no healer, I can help you cleanse and recover some of the stalled life energy.”

  “Truly?” Donnavan raised an eyebrow. “Not many priests are capable of that. I know it requires more finesse than raw power.”

  “I have traveled with life practitioners for years,” Aren shrugged and touched the man’s shoulder.

  He quickly cast a combination of spells to detect the clumps of crystallized life energy that the man had lost control over. When his mana entered the warrior’s body, Donnavan flinched, but he did not try to move away.

  Most of the crystals were centralized in the liver, as it was the most difficult organ to modify. He carefully moved along the man’s channels, using his sympathetic sorcery to separate them into smaller chunks and a vitalic spell to revert them to their natural state.

  Over time, the process would have happened naturally. Then he took it a step further and separated the energy that was no longer at the same wavelength as Donnavan’s natural pool and pulled it out of the body. He let the rest return to its natural flow.

  The change was instantaneous, as the man’s veins returned to normal, with only light swelling remaining in place of the horrible blemishes. His eyes also returned to their normal color as Donnavan breathed out an involuntary sigh of relief.

  “That’s… I barely lost any of the foundation I built,” the man said, flexing his muscles with barely contained surprise.

  “You are welcome. Your body should be back to normal before nightfall,” Aren said, knowing well the natural recovery of fifth-stage warriors.

  “Thank you. This will allow me to try again sooner,” Donnavan said with a thankful nod.

  “Crina needs you at your best,” Aren said, then, with a thought, he accessed his storage sub-space. Searching through it, he found an old book and pulled it out, handing it to the man. Dozens of tags jutted out from its pages.

  “‘Morphological and Functional Transformation of Organs Under Life-Force Integration… Systematic Documentation of Adaptive Modifications from Baseline to Life-Force-Driven Physiology,’?” the man recited the words, brow furrowed, clearly perplexed.

  “A life-practitioner surgeon in our country wrote it,” Aren said. “It details how sixth-stage chi users transform their organs, making life energy the baseline of their physiology. Many of my notes are included, attempting to simplify the topic. It might give you ideas for your own transition.”

  “My family has refined its own methods for generations,” the man said stoically. “Yet I would be a fool to refuse help, especially in our current situation.”

  Aren inclined his head in agreement, then started his warm-up routine wordlessly. By this point, Donnavan mostly watched him. He stuck to the plan he was given, and by now he felt better than he ever had. Crina was also right that his skin tanned a little, but beyond that it also made his skin tougher while his muscles grew and thickened.

  In thanks for his help, Donnavan increased the ferocity of his surprise attacks, or rather, responded to his increased proficiency with the holy relic. He could have easily blocked them with spells now that he was outside the city, but he practiced with the tool to ensure he was ready to respond when he needed to depend on it.

  The warriors watching him were giving him looks of grudging respect when he managed to block the strikes with what looked like casual effort. Both his efforts to help them grow and his own training didn’t go unnoticed, even if his new title still brought consternation to their faces.

  When he finished his training, instead of going back to his meditation at his personal tent, he went over to Lan and Wes, who were still training with Bar’tik against the golems. None of them were immune to the weight of the situation after seeing what their enemies were capable of.

  He watched for a while, and despite the battered state all of them were in, they showed clear progress in both their mastery over their respective arts and technique. He was sure that all of them were getting closer to a breakthrough.

  Bar’tik was the most interesting of the three of them to Aren. His fur, now tinged with azure energy, felt closer to prana restructuring than holy energy, yet he was sure that the transformation used the latter. Maybe he could convince the warrior to come with him and his sister to the academy so he could study it, or maybe it would be better to look for a different ancestral berserker in the future, considering the northerner was clearly not fond of him.

  “Do you need something of us, Sunbearer?” Wes asked him respectfully when he noticed Aren, despite being out of breath.

  The mage rolled his eyes at the use of the title. He couldn’t convince either of the brothers to drop it. They continued to call him that even after he explained to them why he had received it.

  “I have a favor to ask you and Lan. Nothing official,” Aren started, then amended, “although it could be dangerous.”

  “I can’t say that this put me at ease.” Lan sheathed both of his swords and walked over to him.

  “I want to ask if you would be willing to visit each city we go to with the advance guard. Crina has been having issues because of the shorter visits. If someone could investigate each city’s troubles beforehand, it would help her greatly,” Aren explained. “Don’t consider it an official duty. If anything else, it could be dangerous. The assassins may try other approaches after their latest failure.”

  “I don’t mind, but wouldn’t someone who is an expert at investigation be better at that?” Lan asked, unconcerned about the danger.

  “There really isn’t anyone else who knows the concerns of common people that I know and can ask. The advance guard can figure out the security issues, but they miss things that Crina wants to fix.”

  “I understand, Sunbearer,” Wes nodded. “I fear that you may be correct about the danger. The assassins could try to use us in the same way they used those poor souls that exploded into the red mist.”

  Lan shuddered. “I don’t want that to happen to me.”

  “I have adjusted my wards to look out for that, but they could do something new, and I lack samples to figure out what the mysterious energy they used was.” Aren was annoyed about that. Next time, he would have to preserve it.

  Still, he had to reassure the two brothers. “I plan to ask Louis to go with you. I doubt they will send their strongest after you. I will make some alert sticks for you too. If you break them, I will teleport to you as fast as possible.”

  “That’s reassuring. Thank you, Sunbearer,” Lan relaxed.

  “I will go too. Sounds exciting,” Bar’tik spoke in a guttural tone, still transformed in his bear form.

  “We won’t be looking for excitement,” Wes sighed, exasperated with the berserker.

  “I know,” he laughed, sounding like a wild beast’s roar. “Trouble will look for us. That’s the best part.”

  “Just don’t inconvenience them,” Aren shrugged.

  “Me? Never,” the ancestral warrior’s smile showed sharp teeth, clearly bored with the constant travel.

  Shaking his head, Aren bid his goodbyes and went to look for the final person he had to talk with. He had avoided Louis since they left Balthen. He did not want to tell the man everything, but that left him in an awkward situation. Maybe he could convince the older man that he and Crina were just friends. That was the truth, after all.

  The sun had just dipped beyond the horizon when he reached the man, who was wiping the sweat off his scarred body after an intense training session.

  Without a shirt, the man looked even more grizzled than usual. Long, jagged scars ran down his back, clearly from a large claw scraping the muscles there. His front bore burn marks that reminded him of acid splashes from ooze monsters. He must have often fought without any priest on hand, letting the wounds heal on their own.

  “Hello, Louis,” Aren started. He did not wince at the surprised eyes that morphed into a look of disapproval.

  “Sunbearer,” the man said courtly, despite what he thought.

  “I will be honest, I have been avoiding you lately because I didn’t think you would believe me that what you are thinking is just a misunderstanding, but I have a favor I would like to ask of you,” Aren said.

  “Misunderstanding?” the man raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Crina and I are just friends. Neither of us is attracted to the other, like you think,” Aren stated, trying to convey his true thoughts.

  “Yet you call the Luminous One by her name, and she made you her Sunbearer,” he said.

  “I’m… well, things happened during the synod meeting, and this was the only way for me to remain here,” Aren explained. “We became true friends after that meeting, after talking a little about it and confirming each other’s intentions.”

  “I see,” the man stood up and put on a loose linen shirt, then he stepped closer to Aren and looked him straight into his eyes. “Then tell me this, is your courtship of Mar’tei fake?”

  Aren hesitated, then sighed. “Was it that obvious? I can’t tell you everything, but that was a misunderstanding caused by Bar’tik’s large mouth. Then we decided to use it as a disguise since it was obvious I’m too powerful to be part of their party normally.”

  Louis looked into his eyes for a long while, then chuckled. “Well, I did not expect that. I thought you were a womanizer, and the Luminous One was your next goal after you took Mar’tei to lovers’ respite. Was that also a misdirection?”

  “...” Aren stayed silent, unsure what to say. He had not expected that the combination of misdirections and lies had made the older man think of him like this. “Wait, is that what others think of me as well? Is that the reason for all the cold gazes I receive?”

  Then the older man burst out laughing, “Well unless you can straighten out the story with everyone else, nothing can be done about this. They worry for the Luminous One.”

  Aren’s mouth hung open as he wished he could erase everyone’s memory of him.

  “What was the favor you wanted to ask?” Louis prompted.

  “Could you go with Lan and Wes with the advance guard to investigate each city?” Aren then proceeded to explain the whole situation and that it would be a favor to him, as it would help his friend.

  “Will the Holy Exemplar allow this?” Louis asked, unconcerned about the danger, especially after hearing about the alert sticks.

  “She will,” Aren said. If she hadn’t, she would have stopped him when he and Crina talked it over.

  “Then I see no issue,” the older warrior nodded. “I will help out with this. It is a bright goal.”

  “I see, thank you,” Aren said. “This is a favor, so if you need something, tell me.”

  “Don’t worry. I still have to repay you for the aid you gave me and my village,” Louis said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “I will also do my best to help your reputation. At least my lads will stop, I can’t do much to help with the holy warriors.”

  After this, Aren found himself in his tent. He scanned the ground for a path through small mountains of books cluttering the entire space. Some were for his own research, but Mar’tei was in the final stage of preparing to attain a new sorcerous resonance.

  “Can I see your design?” Aren asked, looking at the stack of papers on the small table in front of her.

  Mar’tei, who was fully focused on her piece of paper, jumped up, surprised. She turned to see him, dark circles under her eyes showing that she had been cutting sleep for this. She nodded and passed him what she had been working on for the past week.

  The formation was designed to contain the mnemonic resonance she aimed to absorb and guide it into her core, accommodating it and ensuring there was no backlash from her existing elemental resonance. He could have done this for her, but it was tradition for any mage to do it themselves. It proved they were ready for this step. He would ensure there weren’t any mistakes.

  “Not bad,” he smiled, then took a quill from his storage and circled a piece of the formation in red. “Get some sleep and look this over when we are traveling tomorrow. This part could cause a synchronization issue.”

  She nodded, thankful if tired, and immediately began to scan the piece of paper, looking for any flaws she had made.

  “I was serious about the sleep,” Aren told her. “You need both a healthy body and a healthy mind to successfully complete the integration.”

  Mar’tei nodded and lowered the paper onto the stack. “I know, I know, but I’m feeling both excited and stressed. I’m closer to becoming as good a mage as my mom was, and the assassins…”

  “They are dangerous,” Aren nodded. “Still, if you tire yourself first, you will be doing their job for them.”

  She nodded meekly. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Aren smiled. “It’s a teacher’s duty. I take mine seriously.”

  Mar’tei smiled, and Aren sat down, taking out his wand and beginning a formation he had been preparing for the whole day. First, he ensured his privacy wards were secure, he would keep his promise of not letting anyone know he was conducting research here. He didn’t need his reputation worsening after what he had learned today.

  “Can I watch?” she asked.

  “Of course, although I can’t guarantee it will be just another day of watching a static plane while I grunt from information overload,” he said.

  “It’s still fascinating,” Mar’tei said, her energy returning to her voice.

  Aren nodded and began sketching the formation he had in mind, choosing to incorporate ethereal fission rates into its design. The formation was meant to convey that a single unit of time was the interval required for a condensed, raw, sympathetic resonant mana to naturally dissolve back into its inherent, natural type. To make it work, he was forced to remove some of his filters and limit himself to seven circles, eight simply were not possible. Still, if it worked he wouldn’t need many filters.

  After running a quick mental calculation to determine how many units of time equaled two thousand years, he began his spellwork. He took utmost care with each circle, crafting every formation by hand. It was entirely custom work, his mind vault offered only the slightest guidance and helped keep his hand steady.

  Finally, after finishing the seventh circle, his mana poured like a waterfall into the spell. A white plane appeared before him, then abruptly shifted to color, a riot of shapes and lights assaulted his vision as information slammed into his mind. He grit his teeth. The intensity was less than the last time he cast the spell, and he did not give up. Instead he struggled to focus the image, forcing his sympathetic sorcery to guide the flow.

  Then something twisted. The plane went white again, and suddenly a beautiful landscape emerged. A wide river of crystal-clear water wound through a city nestled in a lush valley. Orange-brick buildings rose from the ground, and small figures moved along streets conjured by magic, their paths seamlessly woven into the terrain.

  Mar’tei gasped, jumping up and pumping his fist in joy. It had finally worked. The result was rough and forced, but there was no doubt, it worked. He would smooth the way he described the passage of time later. Right now, he focused on guiding the spell to close in on the city.

  The people looked both familiar and strange. Many had features that reminded him of people of this continent, yet mixed with hair and skin colors he had never seen before. There was even a man who was entirely gray. He noted these curiosities but then began moving forward in time. Day and night passed in a blur as he watched the city for any sign of devastation. While he waited, he noticed something unusual.

  “They don’t expand,” Mar’tei commented.

  “Indeed,” Aren said. Despite skipping over a few decades, the city had stayed the same.

  “They didn’t even build walls. Were they safe from monsters?” she theorized.

  “Maybe,” Aren said. Then, suddenly, the city was gone, and he paused the image, confused.

  Instead of a lush valley, the ground was dry and cracked, the river was gone, and the sky was covered by dark clouds. Yet instead of the ruins of a city, all he saw was a wasteland. There was no rubble to suggest that a civilization had ever existed there.

  “What happened?” Mar’tei asked.

  “It’s just gone,” Aren said, reversing time and then forwarding it again, the city vanishing from one moment to the next without warning.

  He paused time just before the city disappeared and began to scan the area carefully. After what felt like forever of watching a very different but normal city’s daily life, he noticed something, an impossibly tall man dressed in black landing on the edge of the city.

  His long hair flowed uniformly, unnaturally, more like a single block of water than strands of hair. His eyes glowed with a vibrant purple light.

  The dark cloth clung to his body as if it were skin. Only a few folds betrayed its fabric. The few patches of visible skin were ghostly pale.

  Then Aren closed in on the figure’s face and froze in shock. It was perfect, sculpted, flawless. But it wasn’t the perfection that froze him. The perfect features twisted subtly, despite the frozen time, despite this being only a memory.

  The man’s gaze sharpened. Mildly interested eyes turned predatory, hungry. His mouth opened, seemingly conversationally. Inside, there were no teeth. No tongue. Only a black void.

  Yet before the ominous figure could speak, the spell flashed with a powerful blue light, and his connection to it was cut forcefully. He let out a gasp as his mana was shoved back into him, and the spell flashed white before dissolving.

  He landed on his back, gasping for air, a fear he had never felt crawling up his spine. He tried to get up, but the mana running wild inside him prevented any movement.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Mar’tei kneeling next to him, worried, but he ignored her. Only one thought ran through his mind, a single amused word he had heard just before the spell collapsed:

  ‘Peeker’