Chapter Text
The path is a little longer from Olde Town to Ravenwood.
But the wizard is still not comfortable walking through Bartleby.
“Should we go get Duncan and Marla first?” Penny asks as they cross the commons, “They’re probably both in Nightside—if they didn’t already go back to Northguard looking for us.”
“No, we’ll meet them there. I don’t think this will take long—I just—” just what? Don’t understand the terms of the fight they’re about to engage in? True. Don’t want to go face Malistaire again without consulting Cyrus just once more? Also true, even if there is a little writhing thought in their head saying it’s pointless. “—come on, if we’re lucky he’ll be between lectures.”
Cyrus Drake is not, in fact, in between lectures. The Myth classroom is full of students, all a handful of years younger, who seem to be studying the Basilisk. Though the room drops into silence at the intrusion.
Something of the situation must show on their face.
“Continue to study the summoning pattern—quietly—for the next ten minutes. I will rejoin you momentarily.” Cyrus instructs the room, before waving the trio back towards his office door. Once all of them are safely inside, he clicks it shut and raises a single eyebrow in question. “You do not typically interrupt my classes without reason, so what catastrophe brings you to my door today?”
Breathe.
He already knows.
“Your brother.” The wizard replies, fighting the urge to drop their gaze to the floor. “The shade I saw Morganthe summon on Azteca wasn’t put back to rest when she died. Malistaire has taken residence in Dworgyn’s homeworld Darkmoor, and—” breathe breathe breathe, eye contact, words, it’s all just words. There is no danger yet. “—and he’s challenged me under the laws of something called Kan Davasi.”
Cyrus remains stony faced and unreadable. That’s almost better, the wizard thinks. It’s normal. It’s helping. “I had hoped,” He begins slowly “that with Morganthe’s destruction his heart would return to rest. However, given the obvious, that was not the case. Kan Davasi is an ancient dueling rite, nearly as old as the Spiral itself, it will have created an impenetrable barrier around Darkmoor—allowing only you to pass through, accompanied by your kith and kin—neither I nor Ambrose nor any of the faculty of Ravenwood would be able to interfere.”
“So—you’re saying we could go with them?” Malorn immediately looks like he regrets speaking when Cyrus’ gaze turns on him.
“Yes,” Cyrus tells them, voice perceivably sharper. “it is likely anyone that my apprentice chooses to accompany them would also be allowed entry. This includes you, and Miss Dreadful, and any of the other upperclassmen who are yet to be graduates.”
That at least, is a relief.
Or perhaps a curse.
For a moment, they consider telling Cyrus about the discovery they’d made regarding Shadow.
Another time.
This was enough for today.
“Wait for me outside?” They ask, glancing between their necromantic companions. Both nod, looking more than happy to get out of the office. Alone, the wizard looks back to their professor. “On Xiabalba—I only made it out because the comet was falling apart—Malistaire got thrown into the void between worlds.”
They know it.
He was angry enough.
He would have ripped them apart given the time.
Cyrus looks them up and down, expression softening minutely, just the barest un-narrowing of eyes. “I will not pretend for you that this will be easy, but you have faced my brother twice now, you know his weaknesses, you know his strength. There is no doubt in my mind that you will prevail.”
“One more stop, I promise.” The wizard tells their companions when they return, “I need something stronger than this—” they pluck at the stiff fabric of their robes, “—and so do all of you. Go get Duncan and Marla, I’ve undone my teleport blocking—temporarily—so you should be able to meet me in my house without trouble.”
Malorn and Penny both look reluctant to let them go anywhere alone.
The wizard slips their backpack off and hands it back to Penny. “I’ll need that to craft new gear for you all. I don’t store my reagents at home. Don’t take too long.”
It’s enough.
They go.
The wizard draws the sigil for home, opens their eyes to the Dragon’s Fjord, and turns right around towards the spiral door. Their armor is up to par—as much as can be expected—they just need to change. But the others…
Surely it will take a few minutes to get Marla and Duncan together.
They have time to visit the traders in Sardonyx.
Bastion is full of life.
It’s nice to see it thriving.
“Halt! All visitors to—Spellbinder!” Dyvim’s voice shifts in an instant as he recognizes them. The wizard lets themself smile. “To what do I owe the honor? Another battle on the horizon?”
“I just need some recipes from Sardonyx,” they reply, not missing the faintest hint of disappointment in his expression. Always ready for the glory of battle. “would you like to accompany me? I imagine it’s still treacherous in places.”
The disappointment vanishes in a grin. “Of course, but quickly, I shouldn’t leave the spiral door alone for long.” There is another guard standing at the door with him, but it’s a Mantis the wizard doesn’t recognize, and one who looks a touch insulted at the suggestion that leaving the door with them is leaving it alone.
It will be fine.
This won’t take long.
“Don’t worry, I’m in a bit of a hurry as well.”
The wizard disappears in a flash, leaving the pair standing alone outside the Myth school.
“Professor Drake called them his apprentice.” Penny has one of her biggest smiles on, “I didn’t realize he took apprentices, do you think Nolan knows? He mustn’t, he would be devastated.” There is a spark of malicious glee in her expression that says she never forgave Nolan for treating her like an idiot during the Academy rebuild.
Malorn just shakes his head, “Come on, we should find the others. I’m sure they’ll want to be filled in before we all meet up.”
Somewhat conveniently, Marla and Duncan are walking back into Ravenwood just as Malorn and Penny round past Blossom.
“Where is—?” Marla tilts her head in confusion, “—You didn’t leave them in Northguard alone, right?”
“No,” Malorn fills the pair in on what happened since they both left, continuing on with “they want us to meet them in one of their castles. I think we’re getting better gear.” He doesn’t miss how Duncan seems to perk up a little at that, though he otherwise still seems to be sour. “They were checking in with Professor Drake before leaving—the laws of Kan Davasi prohibit outside intervention, but he believes we should be able to go with them.”
“And we’re just going to—what—let them turn into a shadow monster again?” Marla crosses her arms, “How are they going to get five of us through into a dungeon, let alone keep tagging on extra battle placements to any duels inside—”
“—We just have to trust they can handle it.” Malorn says, “They looked pretty worse for wear by the time they got into our side of the dungeon, maybe something else had already happened. We’ll be together from the start this time, we’ll be able to plan better.”
“We should get going, they said not to take too long. I can take us all together, just hold on—” Penny holds out her wand for all of them to grab, and draws the teleport sigil with her free hand.
There is a flash.
A moment of darkness.
And then blinding sunlight and dry heat.
“Dyvim—wait! They’re friends!” Malorn’s vision adjusts to see a very nearly wizard sized mouse, brandishing a sword at the four of them. Just beside him, a handful of papers in their grip, is the wizard—who looks to the group apologetically, “I’m sorry—I took longer than expected here. I’ve got the recipes I need, I was just going to walk back to Bastion with Dyvim.”
They are standing in a brightly lit market, everything bathed in warm oranges and yellows. Merchants set up in the little central area where they’re all grouped. All of them mantis creatures, all taller than the Ravenwood students by about a foot if not two.
“Ah, my apologies. We are still in the early stages of re-establishing peace here, forgive my intensity.” The mouse—Dyvim—sheathes his sword, looking across the group with interest. Short introductions are exchanged, and then with humor underlining his every word, the mouse adds: “This group is much more monochrome—are you an anomaly Spellbinder?”
The wizard laughs, actually lets out a lighthearted little chuckle. “No. But they’re all students of Death magic, their school colors are black and white.” They beckon everyone towards them, expression turning serious again. “Stay close. There are still stragglers from the Umbra Legion, especially here.”
They are led to a glittering teleporter that spits them out into a waterfall, and from there led through to a hub of stone hollows and bridges. Two grand statues stand in the center, mice holding aloft orbs of glowing red and blue. Dyvim and the wizard talk throughout the short walk, both explaining some of the history of where they are—Bastion—and how it is being rebuilt after having existed under the crushing weight of the Umbra Legion for so long.
“We’re doing something like this in Dragonspyre.” Penny tells Dyvim, “Not on such a big scale I don’t think—just the academy of magic—but it was destroyed during the Titan War and we’ve been able to breathe life back into it.”
“I would like to see that someday—” Dyvim replies, looking back as they approach a large domed building, presumably the spiral chamber. “—once things are settled here and peace is on more solid ground.” He smiles at them all, inclining his head towards the wizard “And you, I will look forward to seeing you again my friend.”
“I’m never far.” It’s almost strange the way the wizard seems more at ease here than anywhere else—at least anywhere else Malorn has seen them in a while. Maybe not since before Dragonspyre. “Oh—Dyvim, keep an eye out for any of Morganthe’s warlords who might have crawled out of the Shadow Palace alive. I—” they falter and stop, and Dyvim’s demeanor stiffens like there is an urgncy to their slow words that he understands. “—I ran into Archmagus Lorcan, holed up on Grizzleheim. I think it’s just Balor and Lord Oombra who are still alive, if they survived the collapse of the palace. If you or Zaltanna have anyone to spare, keep some guards near the entrance to the hive.”
“Of course.”
“I would stay and help if I could but—”
“—you have other monsters to fight, my friend. Don’t worry, we have things well handled here.”
It’s like they’re all spellbound by the interaction.
Afraid to speak and break it.
But Dyvim does look to the rest of them, offering a sweeping bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. Should you find yourselves on our world again, I would be happy to show you the brighter corners of Bastion and the Last Wood. Until then.”
And then he’s gone, shut into the spiral chamber and leaving the five of them just outside.
The wizard holds out a hand, Marla offering her staff as an anchor point for the group teleport. “Thank you for waiting,” They say softly, “I don’t usually get to say long goodbyes.”
“I picked up something a little different for all of you,” The wizard says once they have hearded their companions down into the crafting hall they’ve made of the crystal room in this castle. It’s a touch too similar to Nidavellir’s halls, but they can redecorate later. Right now they are counting out astral shard and comet tails, trying to make sure they have enough for everything. “I also got a handful of amulets and athames you might want—” they pull things haphazard from their pockets and spill them onto the jewelcrafting table—the closest one they are unlikely to use—silently thanking the Professor for the little extradimensional expansion charm he’d taught them. “—take anything, I got doubles.”
“Do we want to know how you afford all this?”
The wizard raises both eyebrows at Malorn before dropping their gaze back to the pile of recipes. “I do a lot of fighting, a lot of errand running, you’d be surprised the things monsters hold onto from past victories—what I can’t sell to the Bazaar, I trade with Torald and the other Northguard merchants for reagents and favors.” They don’t stop the slight sharp edge to the words. Of course they have gold. They have cut through too many monsters not to.
It doesn’t take long to divide out what gear is going where.
All of them get a massive boost to their hardiness and mana pools. It’s not hard, the gear from Sardonyx had packed quite the punch when the wizard first picked it up. Marla and Duncan take the largest boosts to damage, Duncan with a slight detraction in favor of boosting his ability to self-heal, Marla also takes the single athame that stored an extra pip for the start of battle. Malorn picks up more resistance, one of the reshuffle amulets, and a decent amount of extra damage. Penny takes more priority on health, along with an amulet carrying an upgraded version of her mass feint.
Penny offers to stitch together whatever they don’t like the look of as well, apparently she had been spending a lot of her spare time with Eloise and Zeke. Mostly the others take her up on the offer, though Duncan and Marla both seem to like the look of the Burrower armor, amusingly they both keep their preferred hat and hood.
The wizard is glad Penny has learned a few of Eloise’s skills, having them all kitted out in armor would feel too much like they are outfitting their friends to fight to the death.
…Which is exactly what they’re doing.
Seeing their friends like this is scaring them a little. It feels uncomfortably close to their moments before infiltrating the beehive with Dyvim—and look how that had gone.
No. They remind themself.
Nobody is going to die.
After all, the man they are facing is already dead.