Chapter Text
Prologue
The first day Sandeul met Baro, the sky was green.
The ground was a mass of kicked up dust, twirling in eddies, and lightening split the sky, casting the village in an eerie seafoam light. Sandeul tiptoed through the deserted buildings, staff held high. The yellow crystal at its end shone feebly in the storm-thick air.
The Summoner hadn’t even wanted to travel to this village in the first place. It was tiny, barely marked on the map, but he’d checked everywhere else for the message he sought, the news he desperately needed. He could go no further until he found it, until he knew where to look next. It had already taken a week longer than expected; he’d lost the rest of his entourage to the foul weather of the Highlands. The King needed the whereabouts of The Mystic quick, before the plague that threatened the boarders spread to the Capitol.
The King would not stand for this performance. He’d found nothing, not one clue in a month of searching. The King was a just man, but he was not known for his mercy.
The thought made Sandeul swallow hard, shaking orange hair from his eyes. He took one step around the corner—
And a swirl of swords passed over his head, so close he could hear them whistle. He threw himself in the opposite direction, eyes wide, throwing up his staff. Steel blades rang off the ironwood, leaving dents in their wake. He had a barest glimpse of hair the color of a newly bloomed rose and big, innocent eyes and he was forced to backpedal again.
The roguesword was too quick, far too agile; before Sandeul had a chance to blink, he’d been beaten back to the bridge. He could surge forward, miraculously overpower the other—
Or he could go over the edge into the ravine below.
He glanced at the roaring river far, far below, thought of trying to formulate the spells for soft landings and water breathing.
Maybe this wouldn’t end here.
Maybe he could pull through.
The second of hesitation cost him.
He died when he hit the water.
VEIL glitched and locked him out for a week straight.