Chapter Text
Episode 1 - The Third Path
Stories often begin with a problem. Quite a large one, at that.
This is not necessarily a problem with stories themselves, but I wonder if we are unnecessarily burdening the fictional characters we create with things that they are expected to solve that we, the writers, would be powerless to.
It seems a little cruel.
- King Ezran of Katolis, On Life and Death, 18 RZ
Chapter 1
The study of the High Mage of Katolis had changed remarkably in the twenty-two years since its ownership had shifted. Granted, ninety-nine percent of that change had occurred when the new High Mage had decided to move in three years after it was allowed to him, but it had changed, and that was the important part.
There were now a lot fewer dead animals.
Callum zipped between tables crowded with runic circles and small, sparkling mechanisms, drawing lines in the air with an agile yet somewhat distracted finger. He missed a mark, cursed, and went back to the start.
Callum finally finished the particular incantation he was working on and returned to a specific runic circle inscribed in the floor. Stroking his beard (an action which he thought made him look dignified and, to the chagrin of all, actually did), the High Mage looked over the various chalk scribbles and glowing actions that painted the surface, and smiled.
Now for the fun part.
Standing in the middle of the circle, Callum raised his hands to shoulder-height, then dropped them into a complex series of squiggles and lines that traced silvery afterimages in the air as he chanted in Ancient Draconic, sending out words of power that made the air feel charged, as if it were excited to see the spectacle that was about to play out.
Callum somehow split his unsleeved arms into four, slashing downwards in the four cardinal directions. Illusion magic was technically incorporeal, but Lujanne had taught him that those rules deserved to be bent. Light spewed forth from the rents in space, pulling the runes Callum had already drawn towards them like spools of rope.
Callum’s grin deepened as he brought his hands together in a thunderous clap , combining the four rents into one, contained in his hands, and then brought to his chest, where a shining silver amulet awaited. Callum steeled himself, and thrust the enchantment into the amulet.
A blinding flash of light rang throughout the chamber, and Callum fell back with a yelp. Sitting up, he winced as he smelled slightly burned cloth and felt mildly burned skin, but when he grabbed ahold of the amulet, it was cool to the touch.
“So, it worked?”
Callum snapped out of reverie and flipped into a standing guard position, and King Ezran, in turn, stopped leaning on the stairwell. Callum relaxed.
“I hope so.” Callum focused, then grew incredibly still. Ezran looked on confused, before a massive wind shook the chamber, threatening to blow his crown off. Callum’s image wavered and resolved into Callum finishing off the Aspiro spell, aided by the air intakes he’d installed when he’d moved in.
“And that means?” Ezran took his hands off his head.
“It means that I can disguise my image long enough to get another spell out. Means enemy spellcasters can’t see what I’m doing if I’m setting up something big.”
Ezran walked downwards, shoes softly tapping on the smooth mechanical stone steps. “Callum, the Dark Insurgency was defeated fifteen years ago. Shouldn’t you now be looking more at spells that help people - as opposed to spells that help you kill people?”
“The Insurgency is still at large, Ez - and the spells that help people, that ward off disease, that bring good rains and warm weather? They’ve been perfected already. That’s how elves farm - they don’t use - “
“Yes, yes, they don’t use the tools, equipment and strategies that we do because they can wiggle their fingers and make everything right for them. I know, Callum. That’s the entire reason this has worked for so long.
Now, Callum - Callum?” Ezran snapped his fingers in front of Callum’s eyes. Callum snapped out of a minor daze. “Yes?”
“Callum, we need to talk. You’re going to be present for the Moonshadow delegation - in fact, as a Moon mage, you’re going to be a large part of the negotiations. I’m just asking you to - “
Clink clink clink.
The two men whirled around to see a small boy, dark blue horns peeking out behind his scruffy brown hair, in the middle of lifting a small magical mechanism, a metal cube with numerous slots and gears, from a low table. He had knocked over a set of small wooden balls that clumped together as they rolled around on the floor.
The room was frozen for a second.
The boy and the mage leapt into a frenzy of action, the boy disappearing through a door and the mage eagerly following, yelling “JUST YOU WAIT ‘TIL I CATCH YOU, BOY!”
Ezran casually sauntered out of the room. He was confident he could use his knowledge of the caverns under Katolis to severely outpace them.
Wherever they were going.
Chapter 2
Two streaks of colour and pure swiftness slashed across the corridors, the first dark blue and the second red and gold. The effect was to leave the onlooker in awe at the grace, speed and beauty of those who turned the chase into a wondrous art form.
The effect was also rather spoiled by the fact that the first streak was giggling incessantly, while the second was issuing a long string of admonishments.
Callum paused to draw breath at an intersection as he saw that the child had unwisely turned down a long, straight corridor, which he could observe at his leisure. That last “WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER THINK OF THIS” had been a tad too loud.
Aaand he was gone. Just like that, the boy had ducked into a previously unseen corridor. Callum scowled and began running again.
The pair flowed through endless twists and turns in the rock beneath Katolis Castle, with the small boy - laughing and clutching the small cube with one hand - occasionally running up and bouncing off the walls. The mage’s eyes narrowed, and he slashed a rune in the air behind him, sending a small shockwave back through the caverns. A roaring sound filled the corridors, and a wave of air supported the mage, increasing his speed as he rode it down the twisting pathways.
Light.
The boy had opened a concealed door in the side of the corridor and disappeared through it. Dismissing the wave of air, Callum darted through the door, spotting the boy disappearing up the stairs towards the castle’s battlements, eschewing the actual steps in favour of jumping up the walls.
Callum took a deep breath as he raced towards the bottom of the stairs. “ Manus pluma volantis! dammit Manus Pluma Volantis! ” The second time, the enchantment caught, and wings shot out from Callum’s arms.
Callum’s wings rose and then slashed down as he neared the bottom of the steps, and the mage arrowed up the stairwell and through the narrow doorway set at the top, feathers clipping the sides. Callum hovered in the air above the castle wall for a brief second, before crashing down on top of the boy in a tumble of wings, laughter and chaos.
They stopped at the feet of King Ezran, who had just emerged from a trapdoor in the floor.
Ezran leaned on a battlement and watched, considerably amused, as Callum - still on the floor - yanked the cube from the disappointed hands of the child and placed it within his robes, mage-wings now gone.
“Now, if your mother were on a diplomatic mission,” he said, booping the boy on the nose, “I would know, because I would be stuck with you. But, she is not, so you are being a very naughty boy by defying her wishes,” boop , “shunning your lessons,” boop , “and stealing my stuff .” Boop . The boy dissolved into paroxysms of laughter, horns clacking on the ground as he squirmed around, trying to displace Callum’s grip.
“You’re right he is.” The three hurriedly realigned their heads at the sound, Ezran and Callum with the same relieved smile and the boy’s grin quickly draining to an expression somewhere between sheepish and deeply afraid.
A Moonshadow Elf stood upon the wall, tapping her foot.
Callum lifted the mussy-haired boy onto his feet as Rayla approached and took him by the arm, causing him some evident discomfort. “Oskar, you have caused your father enough wasted time for one day. And you’ve missed the first half of Geography, you know what that means.”
Oskar groaned - he did know what that meant. Extra lessons after dinner. For some reason, consequences only seemed important to him after he’d done the thing.
“You know, I actually found that quite enjoyable,” Callum whispered to Ezran, earning him a sharp “Dinnae encourage him!” and a stern finger-pointing. Rayla took Oskar under one arm and leapt off the wall, running and leaping off over the rooftops of Katolis Castle.
“That child lives a very high-speed existence,” Ezran observed.
“It’s only fair - he subjects his parents to one.”
“True.”
The two stood in silence for a moment, due to a mixture of enjoying the view and not knowing what to say. The silence was technically not broken by Rayla, but it might as well have been as she leapt up over the inner lip of the wall, flipped, and landed without a sound.
“Slipped him in through the window - the teacher barely noticed.”
“Any chance he’ll get out again?”
“I locked the fireplace,” Rayla said with a… smile? She was getting somehow smaller -
Blue sky .
Ezran jolted back to the real world. Callum and Rayla were staring, Callum beginning to ask if -
Great wings .
It always took a little while to jumpstart the connection. Rayla was telling Callum not to get closer, good advice because he flailed around a lot when he -
Dragon. Azymondias, Prince of the Dragons, to be precise.
An Empath bond was meant to vanish around the age of ten, but Azymondias was twenty-two, and the ancient Sky magic, the bond usually forged between a mother and their child, had shown no signs of slowing. Perhaps that was because Ezran was human.
Ezran, Azymondias said - or, to be more precise, projected his thoughts. I apologise for the interruption, but I need to use your maps. New evidence has come to light on the Sun Forge, and I wish to visualise the changes in trade routes that will result from that.
Ezran asked, Where are you? and Azymondias breathed in. Ezran could feel breath entering his chest too, but the odours he smelled were from Zym’s sensitive nose - and he had gotten better at figuring out what they meant.
Could you have picked a better time to call than, oh, say ten seconds before your arrival?
Zym’s eyes picked out Katolis Castle on the horizon, and Zym replied, I… should have.
Talk later?
Not much later .
Zym ended the link, and Ezran snapped back to the real world. Ez made the educated guess that he had been meld-walking, because Rayla was holding him upside-down off the battlements over a cart of hay.
Ezran got out the words “I can explain - “ before a dragon hit the wall and Rayla lost her grip, sending him falling into the cart. Ezran spat out hay and glared up at the curious dragon looking down. He was close enough for direct contact now - no mind-melding required.
This is all your fault.
Chapter 3
Ezran was still picking hay out of his clothes when he got to the small garden which the High Mage and the Head Operative of the Diplomatic Corps had been cultivating since before the time of the Dark Insurgency. Flicking one of the small yellow irritants out from between his fingers, he jumped the gap between the floors and his feet impacted the soft dirt of the garden.
It was not a large garden, but then, being too large would have robbed it of its primary purpose. It was mostly grass, with a few carefully-sculpted rocks placed in the positions they had to be, and a pond around the outside. Trees surrounded the outside, but none made their way onto the grassy island in the centre of the castle, an island that Azymondias, Callum and Rayla were now staring at appraisingly.
This was Katolis’ trade map of Xadia, and it needed reworking.
“So, Zym,” Ezran began, finding another piece of hay in his sleeve, “the Sun Forge?”
It’s almost fully cleansed, after twenty-two years of work. Zym’s head, roughly the size of Ezran’s torso, snaked down from his perch and tapped the small model of Lux Aurea on its tip. Zym’s mind extended out to Callum and Rayla, and Ezran faintly felt their minds through the connection. Sunfire Elves are going to wish to move back to the city now that their main source of power and the focus of their worship is going to be restored in a few weeks.
The three gaped at the dragon. Rayla was the first to speak, as Callum matter-of-factly shifted a few stone pieces.
“The Elves said that such a cleansing process would take centuries! How have they been deceived for this long? Or - “
High Mage Floreion says that they had originally believed they were cleansing the Sun Forge as a whole, and were charting their progress by how much it had lightened - but they have recently realised they were drawing Dark Magic from the centre , and so now only a miniscule layer remains on top. It still looks much the same, but within, it is restored.
Ezran took a piece of paper out from his pocket, scribbled the message on it, and gave it to a servant. “See that this gets to the Crow Lord, or failing that, the Crow Master. I want this message in every town, village and hamlet in Katolis, as well as in the hands of Aanya, Fareeda, Ahling and… the new King, before the week is out.” The servant nodded and left, and Ezran returned to the task on hand - the immensely interesting task, he was sure, of rearranging the stone pieces representing immigrants, trade routes and armies to suit the current situation.
Rayla actually did find the task interesting - it was like a game of erasha, except there were no opponents and all you had to do to win was move the pieces to where they should be. It was tricky to predict the movements of thousands of people and millions of tons of stuff based on news, but she and Callum had gotten substantially better at it over the years.
Ezran mostly just watched them do their thing, Rayla noted as she flicked out her left sword, reaching over and neatly sending a Population piece into her hand with a practised flip of her wrist. He was King, but his was the mind of a justice - someone who chose arbiters, judged cases, decided laws to make Katolis a better place. He left other things to the experts - religious policy was High Cleric Opeli’s domain, General Amaya oversaw half of the military, and his brother and sister-in-law? The economists. Rayla had seen that word in an old, musty book that Callum had been intent on reading because “it might contain some reference to a spell” (it hadn’t) and had made a point of overusing it regularly. It sounded very important.
Are you sure that Evenere’s elven population is just going to… pack up and go home? Azymondias queried as he looked at some pieces Callum was reshuffling.
“We should expect some movement, even if Evenere’s elves are some of the best-received in the Human Kingdoms. Besides, this is barely a few hundred people,” Callum said, wiggling the piece, “out of tens of thousands.” Callum chucked the pieces across the island, and they came to a stop, aided by the air, close to Lux Aurea.
“Is that everyone?”
“By my estimates, it’s probable that this number of elves are going to move back.”
“How probable?” Rayla asked with a small smile as she gathered up the displaced Human Population pieces.
“At least five,” Callum said. Rayla’s grin widened, but Zym’s next words iced over her face.
What are you doing with the Human pieces?
Rayla stopped and sighed. “When the elves come back, they’re going to displace humans - there isn’t enough space for everyone, and elves will be more… wanted. So the humans will go - well, we don’t know. We’ll try to make space for them here.”
Confusion and anger radiated from Zym, tempered by bitterness from Ezran. Ez had understood this part of migration for some time.
How can they do that? The humans did nothing wrong, and these elves are going to take them from their homes? Their livelihoods?!
“They’re not doing it on purpose, Zym.” Callum crossed his arms as Rayla put the Human pieces into a Transit box. “It’s just, when these elves move back, some people are going to want elves to work for them more than humans. And the elves that don’t? They’re siding with the enemy. They might even crack under the pressure. So, some of the human farmhands will be out of a job. They’ll have to move.”
But… but you’re not enemies, dammit! We’ve been trying to make this clear for twenty years. Why hasn’t it worked? Zym stamped his perch, cracking the stone slightly. Beforehand, the castle stonemasons had restored the dais upon which Zym looked upon the garden every time he cracked it. Now, they settled for every time it collapsed.
Rayla shrugged. “Honestly, Zym, we don’t know. It took Ezran years to bring Katolis to the point where elves weren’t regularly killed for the number of fingers they had - and that was with the aid of your magic.” Rayla placed the Transit box, utilitarian with spindly legs that allowed it to straddle most major landmarks, over the Breach. “Displacement is something we’re going to have to live with for a while.”
Zym lapsed into a long period of silence as Callum and Rayla cleaned up the board, snapping Population pieces together until the two hundred or so that had been moved could be picked up and moved as a single piece. Ezran shifted slightly in his position, then stiffened, his eyes widening. Rayla looked over, concerned - Ez waved it off, but he sank not back to normalcy but into a haunted expression, hunched over with arms crossed. Eventually, he nodded, and Zym’s silence ended. With a few reserved words of goodwill for Callum and Rayla, the dragon - giant to the humans but still small for his kind - spread his wings and, with an ozone-smelling crack , vanished into the sky. Ezran watched, with a distant look in his eyes, then left the garden.
Chapter 4
Mage Artorc, Moonshadow Elf, former Wardkeeper and delegate from the Silvergrove, strode with his delegation through the double doors as they swung open and directly towards King Ezran as he sat attentively on the edge of his throne, his High Mage at his side. He realised, perhaps for the first time, that although much about the Human Kingdoms had changed since he had begun his diplomatic duties, the same could not be said for the throne rooms - especially that of Katolis. He felt the strange notion that even the candles were the same he’d first seen twenty years ago on his first mission, although that was, of course, impossible.
He smiled at the notion. Impossible . Twenty years ago, many things were impossible.
The King sat forward in his simple grey tunic, seemingly seeing through Artorc with his piercing blue eyes - troubling for a moon mage more than most, someone who could see through you. Some even said that he could read minds. “Greetings, Artorc of the Silvergrove. Nostra cogitamenta sunt apertae .” A Draconic formality - the young King knew those well.
“Greetings, King Ezran,” Artorc said. “May I say, I am puzzled to see your High Mage in attendance. I had thought - “
“That discussions of Moonshadow immigration to the Human Kingdoms might not be of interest to the human Guardian of the Moon Nexus?” The Mage eyed Artorc icily as he said the words.
“A defunct position. The Nexus is freely used now - as these negotiations will set in stone.”
“Have you forgotten how I came to have this title? Believe me, I would rather not be - “
“Enough.” Ezran dropped his voice to a whisper, somehow gaining more power from the lowering in volume than he ever could have garnered from increasing it. “I would ask the both of you to remain civil in this peaceful discussion, as our nations would wish. Letting hatred define international relations is one of the worst mistakes a statesman can make, and I will not allow it to become mine.” His eyes swept the room like an incorporeal scythe, sending Callum, Artorc and the various other delegates from the Silvergrove into quietude. “Now, we will speak on the matter of the Druids. High Mage, what preparations have been made for their return?”
Callum stepped forth - Artorc’s trained eye could discern the irregularities in breath and heartbeat that belied someone controlling their temper. Then, Callum’s face and body shifted, becoming nigh unreadable, although still recognisably human. Artorc smelled Moon magic.
They may have had their differences, but the Mage had to respect the other’s talent, a respect bolstered when Callum sprinkled dust over the floor, producing a holographic image of the Nexus. It was most likely opal dust - Artorc could see the light from underneath as it burned.
“The houses and libraries have been restored to their rightful condition. I estimate them, along with the surrounding moonberry and freas fields, to be able to support a settlement of at least fifty, which I believe far exceeds your initial party. The large supply of freas slugs, you will be pleased to note, is undisturbed. Finally, the portal to Arvmundis is nearing the point where it can be activated on demand. Warn whoever oversees the final placements that there are elvish remains in Arvmundis.”
“Elvish remains? In a place beyond death?”
“When the portal was closed, some were… trapped on the other side. Possibly, the severing of the portal somehow fundamentally tampered with the magic, or there was some supernatural force that killed the elves. Your Druids could probably find out more - Lujanne and I never stayed for more than a few minutes, for fear of the portal collapsing again. Personally, I believe they died of mundane starvation - their positions indicate that.”
“Impossible,” Artorc said, crossing his arms and scowling. “Arvmundis does not allow for that - it is a world beyond death.” Unfortunately, the High Mage seemed to be perhaps more adamant.
“When I was in Arvmundis, I felt no invigoration, no burst of power. I felt hungry in Arvmundis, I felt tired in Arvmundis, I felt no different in Arvmundis. I never was convinced that Arvmundis was a world beyond death, as you say, and Lujanne agreed with me.”
A ripple of barely-concealed outrage ripped through the Moonshadow delegation, and a young elf by the name of Orasava stepped forth from the group. “Don’t you dare include Lujanne in your transgressions!” Ezran bowed his head, seemingly in deep concentration, but he was unimportant at this moment. What was important was the Moon mage disrespecting centuries of tradition and ancestral lore standing in front of them, who seemed to shift again, letting the illusion of calmness go and revealing an emotion that Artorc had seen only rarely.
True rage .
“Perception is the only thing you can trust,” Callum responded in a low and threatening voice, “one of the pillars of Moonshadow philosophy, if you recall . Lujanne respected her perception over tradition, she fulfilled her greatest role as a Moon mage,” the voice rose almost to a shout, Callum stepping forward and stabbing a finger at the off-guard delegate, “and I will not allow you to profane her memory by - ”
The High Mage stopped, his head snapping into a new position, glancing backwards, into what appeared to Artorc to be empty air. His expression shifted, beginning wide-eyed and shocked, then lessening in tension as he shut his mouth, nodded with eyes downcast, and turned back to the delegates.
The Mage sighed, his anger now reserved, like a shadowpaw newly caged. “I ask not that you believe me on this, only that you entertain it as a possibility.”
Orasava opened her mouth, but Artorc silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Let it go.” Speaking to the King, who was now watching Artorc intently, he gave a final formality and gave his delegation the order to disperse. Each had their task with one or more minor administrators within Katolis castle, to ensure that the Moon Druids would integrate into Katolian life as smoothly as possible. Artorc himself turned on his heel and strode out of the doors. The High Mage’s explanatory work was done - hopefully Artorc would be able to speak to the King alone.
Callum put his own hand over Rayla’s as Rayla squeezed his shoulder, then spun him around for a hug. “I’m sorry. I let… me get the better of me.”
Rayla smiled. “It’s confusing, Callum - why you have to fight them on everything . Some things, I understand. Others...”
“But they needed to know! Rayla, you’ve been to Arvmundis - you know how devastating it is. Like having a rug pulled out from under your feet that’s been there all your life.”
“Quoting Lujanne, I see. Well, if you remember her so well, you’ll remember that both she and I accepted it. We were fine.” Looking over the throne room, she saw that one blank-faced delegate had not left, standing with his head slightly bowed and hands behind his back.
“It seems that someone is in need of your services,” she said, turning Callum slightly back around to see the lone weaponsmith waiting to see his adopted daughter.
Chapter 5
Ezran found Artorc standing in the Hall of the Once and Future, staring up at the picture of his father.
“I don’t blame you,” Ezran said as he stood beside the elf, a full head shorter than he was. “The pieces on that erasha board were badly placed. Nobody knew what they were doing at the beginning, and so there were casualties at the end.”
Artorc smiled wanly, eyes flicking between the flesh-and-blood King Ezran and the portrait of King Harrow, standing proudly with his High Mage. “Some of those pieces should never have been carved - but I am glad that one was.” He pointed to Harrow. “From what I’ve heard of him, the part of Harrow that was King of Katolis never really died - he just changed his eye colour.”
“I’m honoured to be thought of so highly.”
“Although you seem to have made the same mistakes.”
The blue eyes hardened. “Callum is no Dark Mage, and the Skywing Elves know him as a mage of integrity, honour and deep respect. So do the Sunfire Elves. You’re letting your past differences get in the way of collaboration - both of you.”
“He has no respect, King Ezran, not even for you.”
“That’s the point.” Ezran pointed at Harrow’s High Mage, Viren. The Ruination of Lux Aurea, the most powerful Dark Mage in the history of humanity, the rumoured leader of the Dark Insurgency, despite his death at the Storm Spire. Ezran was finding those rumours harder and harder to discount.
“Crownguard Soren told me once that, on the night of my father’s death, High Mage Viren tried to switch his soul into the body of another, sparing him and keeping Katolis safe. My father refused. Two thousand human soldiers and more than five hundred elves died at the battle of the Storm Spire because of my father’s pride, because he didn’t let others disrespect him.
That’s what I hope to avoid. That’s Callum’s job - to act as a measuring stick for my rule. To watch me, and to tell me when I’m falling. And I do the same for him.”
Ezran gestured to the opposite side of the hall, to a picture of a young boy, no more than twelve, with a teenager by his side dressed in a sleeveless red and grey tunic, arms bare and showing white runic markings. “We help each other to function. The King and the High Mage - both positions that require more self-control than one person can have.”
“You give up respect to further let others control your rule. That could be seen as weakness.”
“It has been.”
There was a pause. Artorc felt a little uncertain. “But?” Ezran gave a sharp exhale as he smiled.
“I’ve seen weakness. Weakness is grasping for power, destroying others in a mad scramble for safety. Giving up power to ensure your irrationality doesn’t destroy others is control. And if that,” he raised a finger to High Mage Viren, “is what good men do without control, then I’ll give up all the power in the world against it.”
Deep in what had once been Viren’s study, a High Mage, a weaponsmith and an invisible elf knelt on the stone floor, carved with sigils and magical channels. Ethari couldn’t see Rayla, but Callum guided him to her hand as he chanted, the carved runes filling with liquid light as he did so. Ethari shut his eyes as he came into contact with Rayla, his lined face first tensing, then relaxing as he smiled, holding Rayla’s hand tightly.
Callum finished chanting and rose his hands above his head. Wisps of energy began to coalesce from around the room, drawn from the moonstone pillars that Callum had replaced himself every year since he had learned the Moon arcanum. The night outside shone bright in here, and any enchantment that could be completed in the light of the Moon could be completed in the room.
Breaking another enchantment was a piece of cake. If one knew how.
The wisps filled the cracks in the stone, shifting and creating turbulence as they flowed down the narrow pathways. Runes began to light up all over the circle, and a veil opened in the centre.
The ghosting enchantment.
Callum reached towards the veil and pulled with hands dripping with light. This was probably the least sophisticated part of the enchantment, but it worked, and it was necessary. The light on his hands sizzled as it contacted the enchantment, corroding away large strips that fragmented into darkness and vanished.
Callum pulled the veil over the circle, to predetermined locations that latched onto the enchantment and held it tight. Once all six of them were set, the High Mage shook the remaining light off his right hand and slammed it down in the combined centre of the circles.
The candles blew out, and the room was plunged into darkness.
As the High Mage relit the candles around the room with Sun magic, Ethari took the opportunity to bear-hug his daughter, tears of happiness in his eyes.
“You’ve grown so much, little banther!” Ethari ended the hug and began gesticulating. “Come on, off with the hood, I want to see your horns.” A sharp intake of breath. “Wedding bands! I’ve seen your husband’s already. They’re beautifully carved. I could have done better, but...”
“Ask Callum how his stay on,” Rayla said, grinning and directing Ethari’s gaze towards the crown of Callum’s rapidly moving head, where two slightly-curved rectangles of metal, three centimetres by ten, sat nestled within his mussy hair. Ethari raised an eyebrow, tilting his head, and Callum replied, “Welded,” returning to a cross-legged position within the circle.
“Wait, welded?” Ethari sat back slightly in shock.
“Welded to his thick skull,” Rayla confirmed. Callum grinned.
“Your husband is crazy.”
“I know better than most - “ Rayla’s expression shifted - “hello, stranger.” Callum and Ethari turned to follow Rayla’s eye, meeting the embodiment of regality and gravitas standing in the doorway.
It took a lot of force-of-will and presence to convince anyone that King Ezran was being completely serious, but King Ezran had force-of-will and presence that was sitting on musty shelves in the recesses of his mind, untouched these past thirty-two years. “High Mage Callum, we need to talk at your earliest convenience. I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is a matter of high importance.”
Callum looked at the two elves. “Shall I leave you two to catch up?” At their nods, he flipped up from his seated position and walked out the door, King Ezran falling into step alongside him.
Chapter 6
“Callum, a delicate matter has been brought to Azymondias’ attention, and I personally… agree with his decision on the matter, despite its consequences.” The two walked under a starry sky, the Brightstrike clearly emblazoned along its centre.
“What is this matter?”
Ezran stopped at a lookout, one that provided a view of Katolis’ capital city, now named Resmark after the myth. In the mere twenty-two years since Ezran had ascended the throne, it had grown fourfold, now completely surrounding the river and the cliffs that Katolis Castle sat on. The combination of elvish magic and human farming methods had accomplished that.
“Since I took the throne, we’ve championed one method of arbitration between elves and humans - the dragons. Zubeia and the other archdragons have gladly taken on the task of being the neutral ground between our races, despite our long history of enmity, and they have been stellar at the task. But there’s a problem. The Dragon Prince is bonded to a human.
As Zym becomes more and more involved in the politics of the continent, his allegiances will come more and more into question - after all, I’m inside his mind for a substantial portion of the day. So, the elves have… requested that Zym and I end the bond, to preserve the dragons’ neutrality.”
Callum was caught off guard. “What? Ez, your bond defines both of you. You would both be irretrievably different people without it. How - “
“Exactly, Callum. The future King of the Dragons thinks like a human. That’s the problem.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. And elves and humans think the same way! You know this better than anyone, Ez.”
“Another point. The elves don’t know that. They’re scared.”
“Then tell them!”
“I’m a human, with a bond to one of the most powerful creatures in the world. Of course I would say that.”
“Why - “ Callum sighed. “Why are you this annoyingly good at arguing against yourself?”
Ezran sat down on the flagstones, dragging a finger through the dust. “Because Zym and I both went through the exact same arguments you did. And arrived at the exact same conclusion. If we want the elves to remain on our side, we can’t take the neutral ground for ourselves. Good fences make good neighbours, and the dragons are a fence we can’t afford to make a hole in.
The elves sent the necessary spells to break an Empath bond with Zym. I put them in your study - Zym requested that you be the one to break the bond. He trusts you.”
“I… I thank him for his trust.” Callum bowed, then turned and stalked off the battlements. Ezran shut his eyes, lying back on the battlements, and mind-melded with Zym.
This time, Ez was the one initiating the meld, so there was no juddery start. Despite the fact that the Sky magic came from Zym, he had always seemed to be less expert at controlling it.
Zym’s mind entered his own, and the great dragon said, So. Callum will do it?
Yes, he will. He doesn’t like it, but he knows it’s the right thing to do - working to strengthen human-elf relations.
That’s his life these days. That and Rayla - which is the same thing, I suppose.
Nah, Ezran shook his head, gazing up at the stars. Rayla’s practically one of us now.
A ripple of worry came from Zym.
What’s wrong?
One of us ? Whatever happened to ‘elves and humans aren’t different’?
Ezran winced. You’re right. I can’t afford to think like that. It’s a good thing you’re here, to catch my slips.
He realised something. Oh.
Zym’s scales ruffled - Ezran could feel it like goosebumps, but ten times… worse? It wasn’t exactly a terrible feeling. Yes. That’s new. An argument to… refuse them. I didn’t think there were any.
Ezran sat up, placing his head atop two clenched fists and crossing his legs. Is that argument more powerful than the others, though?
Possibly - but we can’t tell the elves that it’s a factor.
No indeed. The right end of the stick - minor slips and things that can’t be allowed to grow - is at the less drastic end of what they could choose to believe, and from what we know, people always choose the more drastic end. The elves would probably end up believing I’m a tyrannical overlord who has to be reined in daily.
Zym laughed in their mind, voice booming over the silence of the night. Let’s both think about it. Callum will understand, and he’s the one doing the enchantment.
You’re right. Good night, Zym.
‘Till we meld again.
Callum wearily got his notebooks out and began tracing the complex unbinding runes the elves had sent. He’d already memorised the pathways - this was an exercise he went through every time. It was as if his brushstrokes allowed him to understand the swirls, not just on a mechanical level, but conceptually - as if he was somehow drawing the spell into himself, forcing it to become part of his identity, not that of some musty scholar sitting in a library somewhere.
Identity. That was a big part of the Sun arcanum - one let both one’s creative and destructive aspects shine, asserting them on the world, as a part of proving their importance. Some said that nothing could be created or destroyed, only changed. The Sun arcanum was about disproving that, proving that everything was simultaneous creation and destruction, and about revelling in it.
Callum ruefully drew a parallel between that and their warrior culture. The Sunfire Elves weren’t as militaristic as a whole as humanity, but they certainly had their… firebrands. Perhaps that was why Sunfire half-elves were the most common by far.
He finished his drawing, and turned his gaze towards the wooden blocks he kept on a bench close to the centre. Wooden cubes were endlessly useful in magic, and apparently, despite the apparent rules of an Empath bond, one could form and break one between inanimate objects too.
Callum held out a hand, and two blocks zipped into it. Testing time.
Chapter 7
“Knock knock. Is everyone in a state of decency, sobriety and vitality?”
Tiadrin looked up from her axe - it had a nasty nick in it from a shield, something that was going to take at least an hour of sharpening to take out - and called out, “Sir, we got back two minutes ago. I haven’t even thought of getting out of my armour.” A number of weary commiserations emanated from different parts of the dormitory. It was dark, which meant that everyone else wanted to sleep.
The door opened, and Captain Soren leaned through. He paused, mouth open and one finger extended upwards, for about five seconds before he dropped the finger and twisted his face into a frustrated frown. “Hang on, I forgot what I was going to ask. I’ll just - no, wait, never mind, got it. Tiadrin,” he said, pointing the finger at the young half-elf, “your mother, brother and grandfather are outside, requesting your presence.”
Tiadrin placed her axe back against her shield, standing up. “My… grandfather, sir?” A number of dissonant cognitive images flashed through her mind. Ghosts and hallucinations were both ruled out in the span of around a second.
“Your mother’s father. Sort of. Have you ever… heard of Ethari?”
“No.” Tiadrin came to the door, to view her mother, ever the respectable but dangerous dual member of Katolian society and Moonshadow philosophy, her younger brother Oskar, more the young Sky mage than ever, and… a Moonshadow elf. Hair taking on the darker silver of old age, kaldari markings not as pronounced as normal but somehow more refined, and a kindly face set on top of a willowy body that didn’t remind her at all of her mother. Tiadrin tentatively walked down the steps, all-too-aware of her overwhelmingly human plate armour, towards the trio, trying to embody the concept of what in the nine heavens is going on?
Rayla smiled when she saw the young half-elf. “Ethari, this is Tiadrin, my eldest. It’s a pity she didn’t bring her axe, or she’d have something to show him!” she shouted up the stairs. Soren took the reminder and vanished inside, emerging with Tiadrin’s axe and shield. “Catch!” he shouted, tossing the weaponry down the stairs.
Tiadrin took a look at the falling weapons, took a running start up the stairs, then jumped, flipping in midair and catching her killing implements, dropping into a roll back down the steps and emerging kneeling on the ground in front of her… family?
Ethari chuckled. “You’ve raised them well! Apart from young Oskar’s apparent heresy.” Oskar grinned and blew a small Aspiro into the hedge. He was getting better - a few months ago, he’d barely managed to exceed his own breath with the spell. Rayla urged Tiadrin to show Ethari the weapons, which she did. Oohing and aahing, the elderly elf quickly found the activation sequence, twisting the bottom of the axe onto the top of the shield in such a way that the shield folded up and became part of the shaft of a polearm, a spear-head shooting out of the axe’s tip.
“She made this herself?” Ethari asked, laughing incredulously and giving the halberd an experimental swing, before handing it back to Tiadrin. She nodded proudly. “Elf after my own heart. Shall we?”
The two grandchildren ran ahead through the torchlit streets of Resmark, the father and daughter remaining reservedly behind.
“So, how did you get them to convince you to come?” Rayla glanced at Ethari. “The Council, I mean.”
“Actually, it was specifically to remove the ghosting enchantment. Despite what they think about you, you’re Katolis’ main diplomat to the elves, and the Silvergrove just couldn’t cope any longer with an entire country being off-limits to them. They needed an intermediary - preferably one who didn’t vehemently oppose the idea of your existence. I actually heard that Callum had invented a permanent, person-specific break from the Council.”
As he spoke, a surge of regret, worry and sorrow crawled up Rayla’s spine and settled on her shoulders. A cloak of darkness, cutting at her neck and collarbone, constricting around her. No. Ethari couldn't know. If he did, he'd hate her, she knew it - but what if she were deserving of that hate? Did she have the right to deceive him?
“Rayla, what’s wrong?” Ethari placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, concern drawing his face and hand rigid. She shied away, suddenly feeling she didn’t even deserve the contact. She'd not told him when she was writing - when she could burn her letters before she sent them, where she couldn't see his face - but here , now , she couldn't keep him believing a version of her that hadn't done the things she had.
“I’m sorry!" Rayla stepped back, away from Ethari, turning her back to him. "I should have told you before, I should have made it right, I should never have done it in the first place! Please, I’m sorry!” Rayla’s vision began to blur, her sense of up and down, left and right blurring with it. She could feel guiding hands on her shoulders, urging her to sit down. Rayla felt a bench behind her - probably over to one side of the road - and sat, sobbing as Ethari cradled her. Like a little child.
“On the night of King Harrow’s death… I fought Runaan. I thought the egg being returned would spare the humans - should spare the humans - and Runaan refused to call off the attack, so I - I fought him, I thought it was right ! And then… he died, like the rest of them. He died . As surely as it had been by my own hands.”
Ethari hugged her harder. Only harder. Eyes tight shut, taking Rayla in a vice-like grip that seemed to defy the world, challenging it to try to force the bond apart. Because it could only try.
She fought off the panic, forcing herself to breathe hard and long to stave off the terrible well of emotions, looking fearfully up into Ethari’s face as he opened his eyes.
“Little banther.” Ethari smiled, even as tear-tracks made their way down his cheeks. “I made my peace with what happened on that night a long time ago. What’s important isn’t what side you fought on, it’s how you fought, it’s why you fought, and it’s that you fought. Did you flinch?”
Rayla shook her head.
“Did you run?”
Rayla shook her head.
“Did you give everything you had to the fight that you believed in?”
Rayla gave a shaky smile, and nodded.
“Then you were the best you could have been that night.
I love you as a daughter, Rayla. You are my daughter, I believe that with all my heart. And if there’s one thing that you’ve taught me, it’s that nothing you do will ever break that love. And nothing besides you could do it either.”
The children had stopped, and were looking back at the unexpected turn of events. Rayla wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, and stood up with Ethari, calling Tiadrin and Oskar back.
It was going to be a big day for Tiadrin tomorrow. She needed her rest.
Chapter 8
Rayla crossed her arms and rolled her eyes as she, yet again, found Callum in his study, doing magic at an ungodly hour of the morning. The mussy-haired idiot was doing something with two of the wooden blocks he'd had made for him out of scrap timber - although thankfully, he hadn’t managed to set either on fire yet.
Rayla cleared her throat, and said mussy-haired idiot jumped and turned in his seat. “Hello, dear,” Callum said, smiling, “I’ve just been experimenting with Empath bonds. Did you know they can be made between inanimate objects?”
This was his usual strategy - try to distract Rayla by talking about magic. The aim was apparently to get her interested in the experimentation herself, which never worked, although Rayla was dimly aware of the fact that she had fallen asleep during some memorably boring explanations, allowing him to spend the night with his runes - so maybe that was his plan. Callum tended to surprise people with his logic, which didn’t so much attempt to outwit others as it just did so by default, finding solutions others hadn’t thought about.
On this occasion, though, the magic did pique Rayla’s interest. Not the explanation, but the application.
“Is this about the elves’ wishes for neutrality?”
Callum’s face swivelled quickly in her direction, puzzled. “You know about that?”
“They’ve been talking about it for a while now. About how Ezran’s bond to Zym is messing things up for them and the dragons. Most of it’s just xenophobia, but xenophobia is a powerful force.”
Callum nodded. “Ez and Zym have decided it’s probably for the best. I’m just making and breaking a bond between the blocks, but... “ Callum exhaled sharply. “I’d like to do it between two living things, just as a test. I don’t think I’ll feel I’m ready until I do that, but, well, everyone else is - “
“Asleep. Like we should be.”
Callum got his idea face. It wasn’t a face as such - just subtle shifts in his expression - but it was instantly recognisable to the well-trained. “Hang on - you’re not asleep, I’m not asleep - I can make one between you and me!”
“Is that wise?” Rayla asked suspiciously, to which Callum said, “They only last for about a minute, unless you’re a Sky dragon in disguise - and it would have to be a pretty good disguise.” Callum drew a few runes, muttered an incantation under his breath, and a line of brilliant white light shot between the pair’s heads.
And Rayla was Callum.
It was a severely dissociative experience. The emotions and sensations of the husband and wife mixed together, picking at strands, reinforcing where they aligned. Rayla briefly felt exactly what it was like to have five fingers - very strange. But overlying that was a severe understanding of the other person - their fears, knowledge, irrationalities - and that was exhilarating, giving each other the true certainty of knowing that there was at least one other who cared about them as they cared about the air they breathed.
It seemed to be both Rayla and Callum who breathed in, sliced a few runes into the air, and spoke the words that broke the bond - after they both felt they’d spent enough time in it, revelling in each others’ presence. The consciousnesses separated - neither body moving noticeably, but the minds recoiling, ending the high.
One thing troubled Rayla - and it seemed to trouble Callum too.
“You’d die for me,” Callum said, hollow-eyed. “I’d always just accepted it as a fact. The sky is blue. Elves are born with arcana. I’d disregard my own sense of self-preservation for Rayla the Moonshadow Elf. But… it frightens me that you think exactly the same way.”
Rayla nodded. “It’s a bit hypocritical, but… actually, do you know? Now I’m actually thinking about it, I’m thinking it’s a bad thing less and less. We’d die for each other. That’s alright, isn’t it?”
“Not when it might actually happen.” Callum sat back. “But nothing’s really alright when mixed with death. I suppose that this is the most alright it can be. We accept it?”
“We accept it.”
They lapsed into silence, and Rayla voiced her other objection. “It seems… so wrong to be destroying those when you can make them just as easily. But if it pacifies the elves and makes sure the dragons remain neutral, I won't oppose it.” Standing up, Rayla stretched and said, “You’ve got enough practice? You can do it now? We can go to bed?”
Callum had his idea face on again.
"Oh, what's it this time?"
"Make them just as easily… if you're a Sky dragon… the bond will remain…" A slow grin wormed its way to the corners of Callum's face. He stood up from his chair, sliding it back and muttering to himself. "I need to tell Ez!" made its way out of the fug of murmuring.
Rayla had had enough. It was time to break out the brute force.
"Nope! You are going to bed with me to sleep and you shall do your weird Sky magic in the morning, when you are well-rested. That - is - final," Rayla said as she hauled Callum bodily backwards and began the long walk back upstairs.
Rayla regularly won arm-wrestles with foolhardy, muscle-bound farmhands and war veterans who didn't understand the ability of elven muscle fibres to compact as they multiplied. Dragging a weakly-protesting, heavily-fatigued mage upstairs was hard, but quite certainly not impossible.
Chapter 9
“King Ezran, you’re going to have to understand someday that you have a bedroom, and you’re expected to sleep in it. Like a king.”
The stone of the battlements dug into Ezran’s back as he shifted his position and sat up with a groan. Eleven bedrolls surrounded his position on the battlements, with young Crownguard trainees in various stages of sleep occupying eight of them and one very awake Captain Soren occupying the other one.
The Crownguard had been an institution since the earliest days of Katolis, but Soren had been an oddity in more ways than one when he had been chosen. For one, he had been the tender age of seventeen, and for two, he had been a swordsman - for the Crownguard were not a group of soldiers but a group of spies. Their motto was “Destroy the threat, protect the crown”, and in that they were experts, uncovering secret plots against Katolis and disintegrating them from the inside. However, Soren had always thought that his way of protecting King Ezran was a lot more direct and effective than the other Crownguards’ methods, and so, with Ezran’s permission, he had begun training a new Crownguard - composed of people like he had been, idealistic fighting men and women with the skill and intelligence required to protect King Ezran in a more direct way.
Oh, and who were, on average, seventeen.
“I’m not complaining, by the way,” Soren said amicably, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that it was the morning and therefore everyone should be grumpy. “This was a brilliant exercise in protecting someone who doesn’t want to be protected, and I am proud of everyone here for creating a good formation and making a lookout roster on their own. But seriously, King Ezran, it’s easier to make sure you’re alive when you’re in there,” he pointed to the Crown Tower, “than when you’re out here.” He pointed to the wall beneath them.
“We’re… on a wall.” Ezran vaguely gestured. “By definition the most defensible location in a castle.”
“Yes, which is why we want you inside those walls as well as these walls.”
Ezran crossed his arms. “They’ll never think to look for me out here. They might even trip over me and fall to their deaths in the courtyard below. Badabing, badaboom, threat destroyed, crown protected.”
Soren closed his eyes in what was either mild disgust, frustration, or boundless appreciation for Ezran’s genius. Ezran figured he could probably rule out the first one. And the second.
“Well, my king,” the eyes opened again, staring deadpan into Ezran’s face, “we come to the matter of the day’s business, which is administering to Resmark’s economy in the regions of,” he checked a list, “sewage, roads and the black market for crabs. And you placed a reminder for three in the afternoon for ‘Get the High Mage’. I assume you know what that’s for?
King Ezran? Your majesty?”
Ezran shook his head slightly. Apparently, he’d been staring into the middle distance. “Yep, I know what that’s for.” Arching his back, Ezran could swear he felt vertebrae pop from lying on the stones for the night. Around him, the Crownguard-in-training were rising from their bedrolls, rubbing their eyes and grumbling in what they thought were low whispers about strict captains and recalcitrant kings. “Onwards, to face the day. We shall go down fighting.”
“Ezran! King Ezran!”
Ezran looked up from the map at Callum, and his face fell. “I said three in the afternoon, Callum. I - why are you smiling?”
“Because,” Callum said, pushing past the three relatively stunned crab-merchants standing opposite the King, “I have had an idea. Well, actually, Rayla had the idea, and then I realised that it was an idea and fleshed out the magic side of it, and then we kinda workshopped the diplomatic side toge - “
“Callum - I’m sorry, can we?” The crab-merchants nodded and retreated. “Thank you. Callum, what is the idea?”
“A dragon who’s bound to a human and an elf is just as neutral as a dragon who’s bound to neither.”
Ezran took a step back. “You mean - you could - of course you could, you’re High Mage Callum, you could put the Sun into an egg if you wanted.”
“Thank you.”
“But will the elves accept?” Ezran placed a finger in the air between himself and Callum. “That’s been the problem from the start. I’ll still have a twenty-year head start on whichever elf is chosen to be bound to us.”
Callum shrugged. “If we break the bond, Zym still has a twenty-year head start with humans, just in the other direction. It might not be ideal, but it’s just plausible enough that the elves can’t complain.”
Ezran felt the sudden and ridiculous urge to laugh, and if he’d learned anything, it was that giving in to sudden and ridiculous urges was sometimes worth his time. Callum grinned uncertainly as Ezran shook off the last of the chuckles, now sitting forward on his throne where he’d collapsed back in fits.
“Sorry, Callum, but… it’s... it’s just one of the simplest plans you’ve ever had. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Ezran ran to one specific part of the throne room and kicked open a section of wall, disappearing through it.
Callum looked after Ezran as he ran through the wall, and glanced at the High Cleric for some form of explanation. After twenty-two years of observing Ezran’s tics, High Cleric Opeli was one of the people most highly-attuned to the King in Katolis, and one of the sharpest too, despite her old age.
As usual, Opeli delivered with an explanation. Smiling laconically, the skin around her eyes crinkling, she asked, “Have you never noticed? The King always goes out onto balconies to speak to Zym. It’s traditional.” Callum nodded and began walking.
Callum got out onto the balcony - for indeed, the passage led to one that he had assumed was decorational - just as Ezran dropped his arms. Zym had been flying - Ez always substituted his arms for wings when he was melding.
“Well?” Callum leaned uncertainly forward, steadying himself on the carved stone railing.
“He said, Thank you ,” Ezran replied, smiling and gazing out over Resmark.
Chapter 10
The low crystalline mist over the border town, rising off the Breach and settling in the mountains, sent miniscule shards into Major Anna’s lungs as she saluted the General, breathing heavily.
“The villagers say that they’ve not seen any sign of the activity since Monday, sir. We strongly suspect that, whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
General Amaya looked out over the misty forests below, from her vantage point in the upper town square. Even these tallest of mountains were only in the upper cloud layers - rain here wasn’t as common as fog, drenching the woods in water that never fell but simply… manifested. Whatever it was… If it was what I suspect it was, it’s not gone.
“Which is, sir?”
Dark magic, Major. The sign for “dark magic” was one of Anna’s favourites - a clenched left fist punched into a splayed right palm, then both hands becoming strained claws, simulating both the rigidity that a dark magician’s muscles took on as they plied their craft and an explosion. Does everyone still have their wards activated?
“Yes, sir. You said to keep them on even as we slept.”
Good. We’ve had problems in the past with soldiers deactivating them when they thought danger was past, even in the Standing Battalion, but in recent years, soldiers seem to trust them more.
“Wards saved my life in the Battle of Karman’s Hill and in a half-dozen other fights, sir, and that’s true for a lot of veterans. So we yell at the younger ones if they don’t have them on.”
The louder the yell, the more the authority. Amaya smirked. How I ever became a general is beyond me. Assemble the company - I’ve decided to conduct a sweep search through the forests. Whatever the lights are - man or beast - we’ll find them and potentially neutralise them.
Anna nodded, leaving the General to puzzle over the forests.
Korvalis town had two town squares - the first, a smaller one, set before the Town Hall at the top of a promontory and offering a view of the forests, and the second larger one in the rough geographic centre of town, in which Breach Forces Company B was formed up and ready for orders.
Soldiers of all shapes and sizes stood in the square. Company B was mainly formed of Sunfire elves and humans, but significant numbers of Tidebound, Earthblood and Skywing elves were also present. There were even a few Moonshadow elves who had consented to fight as part of an army, rather than in their usual… clandestine nature.
All stood at ease in roughly the same armour - full plate with a helmet usually modified to suit horns and a crystal in the centre of the breastplate, glowing faintly. Two of the Skywing elves, who had just landed in the centre of the square, wore only thin, light plates that wouldn’t protect from crushing blows but added sufficiently little to their weight that they could still use their unarmoured wings. Akil-Resori-Farida and Marya-Selari-Deborah were Company B’s flight scouts, and they had always been stellar in their duties.
Amaya, Anna and Gren saluted the couple, who bowed in the traditional Skywing manner. Akil spoke first while Marya unrolled a map of the region.
“We have so far been unable to locate any tracks or similar from the air, sir, so we can rule out dragons or other large beasts.”
“It’s also our opinion,” Marya said as the map rolled out onto the ground, the five kneeling to study it more closely, “that the recent nature of the lights and sounds, as well as the fact that they began all at once, rules out migration of arboreal beasts. We believe that they are magical in nature.”
In that, we are in agreement.
Anna thanked the Skywings, and they returned to their place in the formation, checking the energy levels of their wards. Rapid movement, such as flying, depleted them quickly for some reason.
Around the soldiers, townsfolk rushed about their business, bundled up against the cold weather. Two men hurried along the side of the square - a human and an elf together, judging by the shapes of the hoods. Even under the hood, the shapes of the elf’s horns were unfamiliar to Anna. Was that an Earthblood -
Words reverberated around the square - “ htaerB. ehT. laetS. ” - and Anna collapsed to her knees with the rest of the company, trying desperately to pull air into lungs that just wouldn’t take it.
Viren smiled as he overcame the company’s wards. If they had been fully charged, he might have had problems with defeating them even with his preparations, but depleted as they were, a little push was all that it took to send them over the edge.
A little push for him was more than most mages could muster - but that was the point. He wasn’t most mages. The dragonling’s foot disintegrated beneath his robes, and Viren shook the ash off his fingers.
Viren tapped his wrists and the serpent bracelets he had borrowed from his daughter twisted out, wrapping around the gasping, weakly struggling Amaya, and her similarly afflicted aide, Gren. As soon as the chains were secure, Viren let them have their breaths back - or two breaths, at least. Now he reflected upon it, they probably weren’t the ones specifically belonging to the General and Commander.
Aaravos smiled and extended a hand, unravelling it into a portal. His current form was imperfect and constantly fell apart, but it was serviceable enough for short stints of movement, and Viren had required Star magic on this particular mission. The two exhausted, chained bodies floated through the portal, and Aaravos followed.
Just before he stepped through, Viren pondered whether he’d give the company its breaths back. He decided not to - it was always a good idea to deplete the enemy of their forces. Viren inhaled, consuming the breaths and using some of their power to restore his semblance of youth. So many uses for someone’s last breath.
Newly invigorated, Viren stepped through the portal, leaving the soldiers to spend their last seconds in a futile struggle to breathe again.