Book 8: Chapter 61

Book 8: Chapter 61

[The story is on break until January 15th for Patrons for the annual break and for a very secret project! Check the Authors Notes to hear aboutGravesong.]

Even a day afterwards, he was chuckling about it all. Not always in pure humor. Wry contemplation and self-introspection would be part of how hed describe it.

If, of course, he held any counsel with his most inner thoughts. But Grand Magus Eldavin did not, even to his occasional companionship. He did not even think loudly, not here.

For even Wistram decayed was still Wistram. The half-Elf often looked up, in the entrance hall, and remembered, faintly, a glorious institution of magic. So grand that all would pay homage and seek to learn here.

[Archmage], [Queen], Unicorn, even Dragon and Wyrm. Species so rare they no longer existed.

Then his eyes would begin to mist, and he did not know exactly why. For these were times so long ago even he could not have lived them.

Yet he spoke as if he did. Grand Magus Eldavin stood in his lecture class, which had [Mages] and students alike, and spoke. Like a compulsion had a hold over his tongue.

Once, there were teachers of every kind. Once, Wistrams professors were not [Mages]. Here! Where I stand, there was no mere half-Elf!

His audience rustled. Eldavin stood to one side and pointed down.

Once! You would have learned geomancyno, earth magic in its purest form, the power of nature itselfnot from someone with a class, but from a Dryad themselves! Great [Mages] would beg knowledge from beings with a magic they did not understand, trade favors for the feathers of Phoenixes. This was Wistram as it was. Let those days come again. Or

And here a lump entered his throat, so he had to speak quietly.

As close as we can come to them.

Why did he say that? Some [Mages] thought he did it to humble them, to impress his long memory and knowledge of pre-Zelkyr times. Somethe Archmages includedregarded him as nothing more than a threat.

Like a greater scavenger, come to the carrion of Wistram as it is. They surely saw every flaw and weakness of the academy.

Feor did. He had been trying to fix it. After months here, Eldavin gave him that. Wistrams [Mages] were not incompetent. They knew they were reduced, but the way they solved it was soso classically Drake-like.

They had a fine teacher. Feors method of solving the weakness of Wistram was to try to amass power. To reach a breaching point where his own knowledge, or influence, let him ascend to Wistrams peak.

Drake-like.

Dragon-like? The half-Elf was so busy. Eldavin was teaching at least six different courses a day, even if they werent referred to as such. Hed stop by to educate the communication-branch overseeing the Mages Guild about encrypting [Message] spells, pay a visit to Wistrams gardens, then teach his official class, have a chat with some [High Mages] who wanted refining in their spells, visit his few apprentices

All to a purpose. Eldavin could spend a half-Elfs lifetime refining every aspect of Wistram, but he was prioritizing what mattered.

Socommunication. Wistrams finances, for the trees sake! Damned things. Why did his people have that expression anyways? Trees. They sprang up, died, and if you kept them around too long you had Dryads acting like they ran the place and hadnt spent the last thousand years sucking up groundwater.

Finance is power, Mage Teura. If Wistram Academy offers a real, truly encrypted [Message] service, everyone wants it. That supposes Wistram is trusted. Which is a vessel we have been siphoning coins from

Eldavin looked meaningfully at the half-Elf, formerly of Feors faction. She nodded, ears drooping with chagrin.

Yes, Grand Magus. But the solution?

The Grand Magus snorted. He was reclining on a sofa, levitating snacks towards him, and she was facing him the same way. A Chandrarian style of relaxing; Eldavins head was propped up on one arm. He liked lounging. He could remember doing it all the time. People were too vertical.

Well, I would normally say lead by example. Impeccable conduct for a decade. Given Wistrams state and all these [Mages] youd have to corral? The opposite will work. We make ourselves indispensable. Offer magic no one can matchor, at least, make such magic more convenient. That is how Wistram has survived before. Sometimes by virtue, other times by power alone. I saypower it is.

She nodded, and he realized he wouldnt get any arguments or her gainsaying him. It made him a bit sad. She was enamored. Perhaps rightly so, if he was truly the last Grand Magus with magic predating Zelkyr. They had forgotten so much.

Yet he thought of his first real student, even though shed never shown much interest in magic.

Magnolia Reinhart. And that little bratno, the original one.

Ressa. Ryoka had come later. She was grown. It seemed so fast, like it always did. Eldavin walked and talked, moving from Teura to Troy Atlas.

Combat magic. You are a [Sand Mage] and a golem-owner. By rights, I should have you practicing sandstorm spells until you can sleep in the middle of one before I teach you a single arrow spell. [Sand Mages] are good at one thing. And that would be?

The young man frowned, his dark brown-red hair shifting slightly as he scratched at it. Dyed hair, Eldavin knew. Not from magic, he just knew a bad dye job when he saw one.

Using sand, Grand Magus?

No. Being aggravating.

He laughed, but Eldavin launched into an example.

Sand is not exactly a superior weapon. [Geomancers] will kindly hit you with a giant rockor engulf someone in the earth. Which, I grant you, is a variation on all elementalist classes. Hit someone with fire. Hit someone with more fire. [Pyromancers], pah. No nuance. Higher-level spellcasters do more than just that. I was chatting with a young [Cryomancer] who seemed to understand her class was more than throwing frozen water around

Troy nodded obediently, but Eldavin saw him shifting as he sat cross-legged. He noticed these things, so he amended his dissertation.

You are a [Sand Mage]. Your entire class has made a history of fighting by conjuring a sandstorm and annoying enemy [Mages] to death. Pop out of the sand, shoot an arrow through someones head, hide for a week, repeat.

Idlike something a bit more direct, Grand Magus.

Troy fought to keep his face straight. Eldavin snorted.

And thats why youll be the first [Sand Mage] to die. No patience. But I concede the point. Theres a simple remedy: well respecialize you along two schools of magic. Youre already halfway towards the other.

Which is thoh. Light magic?

The young man got a nod. If he hadnt figured it out, Eldavin would have had to reprimand him.

Light and sand go together.

With glass. Someone told me that sand and light were fairly complementary schools, once.

Troy began to smile, then it was swept off his face. Eldavin knew that look.

I take it this person is no longer with us?

He asked, as kindly as he could. Troy looked up.

He died. Recently. Im sorry, Grand Magus.

Think nothing of it. We will begin with a light-based spell, then. Light is weaker, but infinitely adaptable. Fast, too. It suits you. Incidentally, where is your Golem?

Killing roaches, I think?

Ah, very good.

Another lie. But Eldavin didnt press Troy Atlas on the distinctly stronger Lifesand Golem he detected via the boys mana link.

He didnt tell the other [Mages] he had more magic then they could even dream of. Yes, he told them long-distance teleportation was not a thing of dreams anymore. Yes, he said you could encrypt magic, learn to levitate, and even bind elementals.

Eldavin didnt tell them he could see their little magic spells, read rituals like a book. He didnt tell them how many Tier 7 spells he knew.

He didnt know himself why he was so reticentbesides a healthy interest in keeping a number of secret advantages hidden, of course.

Something told him they werent ready. Sometimes he said things. Thought things.

Dragon-like. I have met Dragons.

The certainty grew over him. Eldavin stood on the balcony of his sumptuous apartments and stared at the bubble of controlled weather around Wistram.

It was raining. He had told the [Mages] that pure, clear skies were idiotic. In fact, it was more impressive thus.

Wistram rained. A squall, fierce and sleeting over the magic towers. Rain steamed away over the Everburning Tower of Rais. It began to freeze around another one; the droplets reversed direction and flew away from a gravitational field.

In other places, they just poured down the magnificent, scattered facade of the Academy of Magic.

A storm in a bubble. For the world outside of Wistram was as calm as could be. Such that the ships coming to Wistram looked into a place that obeyed no rules but those it made.

That was magic.

I have met Dragons.

Eldavin said the words out loud after casting six spells to hide his voice. Just so he could hear himself say it.

He knew it was true. It was so true he wanted to shout the words. Yet

I cannot remember them. No

It was a faint memory. Slipping out of his grasp, even with memory spells. Memory spells existed, as he used them; even Valeterisa had them. Yet when he searched and the drawer in his head opened

Nothing. As if what it had contained were gone.

Did I excise the memories myself? I must haveor they did. Did I lose some great battle with a nemesis, and am now a cripple? All too likely. Was it the Necromancer? Am I a puppet? Nono. I blasted that fool with fire; he is a skilled [Necromancer], but his adaptation to other schools is weaker.

Who else? The Death of Magic? Shes one of the few mighty spellcasters left in this world. But thats so improbable Id be alive. Djinni? Why would I be here? Who else could use such magic Ive met recently? Regis Reinhart with an artifact? Hah! The only other person with comparable magic is

Duke Rhisveri of Ailendamus.

It was surely him. Eldavin glowered. He had a name for a nemesis. It was not exactly hard to piece together. Well, he had been confounded by the long-range casting.

He hadlost.

He could admit that. Eldavin cast a spell.

[Conjure Pebble].

He then kicked the pebble over the balcony. It soared over the edge in a gratifying way. In a less-gratifying way, he heard the crash of pottery.

My plants!

[Greater Invisibility].

Eldavin thought to himself, invisible and inaudible, carefully ignoring the indignation coming from below. No, he had to have done it to himself.

Rhisveri. He knew who had taken Ryoka Griffin. Silly girl, always getting herself into trouble. She had some kind of Skill for itexcept she didnt. She had no class. He remembered being surprised by it.

But then

Eldavin had no class.

That was what he didnt tell anyone. The fact that he had given up levels and Skills. There were benefits, of course, but for the life of him, Eldavin didnt remember why hed done it. It had always been this way, and he supposed hed given up on a class after living most of his life without one. A bit embarrassing to try now, eh?

So why was I surprised by Ryoka? I remember it. As if

This was Eldavins problem. He remembered things and they werent quite right. As if something was shifted about how he remembered it. He had gaps in his memory. He

The half-Elf felt a twinge. He touched his chest.

Ever since Cognita. How hard did she hit me? Truestone. Damned unpredictable.

He sighed. There was so much he had to do. But he had realizedEldavin himself was his own biggest riddle to solve.

It would be so much easier not to care. So much easier to simply go back to the High Passes, retreat to his laboratory, and rest.

He could not. Eldavin had beheld Wistram, and it was too sorry to remain this way. Yethe had also promised Ryoka to try and heal her friend. Valeterisa had inspected Erin Solsticewell, the innand been unable to even get through the garden.

He wished he could trust someone with the weight of his responsibilities. He had too many. Not just to Wistram.

It was that wretched girlRyoka, this time. She kept getting herself kidnapped. It wasnt her faultentirely.

Duty is a heavy thing. It will be the death of me.

The half-Elf spoke, and he wasnt sure why that sounded so right. Only that he had once said it before. He lingered on the balcony. Then he smiled and chuckled again. There was one thing. It seemed he was not the only one trying to put the world right.

A child. Forsooth.

Eldavin laughed to himself. There was hope. People, young people, and fairly old, trying to do the right thing.

This world was dark. The Waning World, where the last remnants of great lights before were just flickering. In this last agewhere another world interceded with theirs? Eldavin felt it. He clutched at his chest, his beating heart.

Fire. We must have fire. Flame beyond imagining.

He was no fire mage. He disdained the [Pyromancers] of today, what few there were in Wistram. So why did he think that?

A burning inferno, to never go out.

Youll be named Archmage tomorrow, Grand Magus. We have an announcement planned. Do you have a name?

Eldavin lay in bed. He blinked absently at Teura.

Hm? What, my dear?

A name? Each Archmage tends to choose theirs. As Archmage Feor is the Archmage of Half-Elves and there is the Archmage of Izril

Oh, my title. Thats often something one is accoladed, Teura. Dont tell me people seed their own names?

She didnt meet his eyes. Eldavin sighed.

Very well, I can think of something. At least until the will of the people chooses one for me. For better or ill. They can be quite cruel, but it is fair. Do you know what they used to call the Archmage of the Eternal Grasslands?

No?

The Archmagus of Seeds. It annoyed her terribly.

She smiled, and Eldavin admired her form under the sheets.

Do you remember that from your mentor, Archmage Eldavin?

Hm? Nono. Im not sure

Eldavin frowned. He looked at Teura and saw her face, as mystified as his.

I suppose when one gets so old, fact and accounts of history blend together.

He chuckled, and she did likewise. But uncertainly. Eldavin began to rise, briskly. He did that whento cover up his weaknesses. He could not show them any. Not now.

Earth.

There were only two great issues on Eldavins mind. Three, counting himself. But two. Four if you counted that young woman, but that was a side project.

Five, six, possibly seven if you included ongoing issues like Rhir, the King of Destruction, the Meeting of Tribes and that debacle around an entire species.

But two main projects he had to tackle. Take them one at a time. Solve one and you compounded your solutions onto the others.

Yes, Grand Magus?

The half-Elf snorted impatiently as he sat. Once again, Troy was in attendance, but this was no gathering of [Mages]. He sensed only burgeoning power amidst most of them, yet they were trying. Troy was ahead of all of them by far.

Except for the young man sitting far at the back. Eldavin bookmarked him, but he fixed the young woman in front of him with a steady gaze.

Do not be coy, Miss Elena. It does not suit you. We are long past dancing around notions of Earth. You have weapons. You have a world without magic and technological marvels to equal magicin some respects. Now, continue explaining your theory of space travel to me. Or, if you like, we can return to nuclear fission.

She shifted uncomfortably. The Earthers looked at each other and Eldavin sighed.

I do not intend to create city-killing weapons. We have enough of those already. Let me rephrase this for you children: I do not need to obtain what I already have. I would rather like to learn something new, even to my mind. Orhow to counter it.

Then you dont trust Earth, Grand Magus?

That question came fromGeorge. Who raised his hand like this were a class. Eldavin sipped from a drink; they were in one of the rooms that could change to look like anything, and they had a quite lovelyif mundanebeach they were all sitting on.

It relaxed them. Somewhat. Elena was wary, and it was a shame. She was a bright young womanbut shed been soured on Wistram before he met her. Eldavin eyed her.

It was so tempting to reach into their minds and pluck the answers out. The Archmages had been debating it. Butno.

Never.

Why did he think that? He agreed, wholeheartedly. But why?

What was that?

Why are you so sure Earth will be the one attacking?

Eldavin snorted.

Young man. Your world apparently employs city-destroying weapons on its own species. Which there is only onehumanity. Why would we trust you to be peaceful?

No ones used a nuclear weapon since

The first times they were employed?

Well, why would we trust this world to be peaceful then?

That jutting chin and question came from another young man. Eldavin forgot the name. He sighed.

What a question. I would think neither side would trust the other. Rightly so. But as I suspect Wistram would be a priority target for your vaunted nations if any had imperialistic tendenciesI would rather have some safeguards in place. Dont tell me, by all means. Let us talk about celestial bodies and physics. Simply know that I cannot help you if there is no trust.

And how would you help us?

Elena watched his face. Eldavin smiled.

We are already trying to find out how you were sent here. I would not keep you from your homes.

A ripple of excitement through the young people and wariness on others. Some wanted to go home, had seen too much. Eldavins heart hurt for the girl who had lost her family to rats. Hemeant it when he spoke to them.

I will send you home, but not blindly. Not with warmongering nationsyes, among both worlds, you brat!

The young man, Jacques, jumped. Eldavin pointed at him.

However, one world is comprised entirely of Humans, and it sounds like one world would panic more upon meeting other species. I still dont entirely believe that one species was there to begin with. Which begs the question what happened to the other onesregardless, one world seems highly intolerant or, at least, unused to other cultures.

Which, of course, was the wrong thing to say because the entire discussion turned into an argument on whether Earth was racist for the next hour. Eldavin sighed. They missed the point. Everyone was speciesist. It wasnt your bias, it was how you acted

He noticed that Troy Atlas was quiet around the others. An outsider within their clique from another world. He was certainly includedbut he stood apart.

The reason why was complicated, Eldavin suspected, but one of the factors was simply that Troy had seen battle. The others? Elena had seen something. Others had suffered traumas. Yet when Troy saw Saif and Leon arguing about whether or not Earth could take this world in a battle, magic versus guns and planes and industry

He looked angry. At the two young men who talked so cavalierly about death on that scale. That was why he was Eldavins apprentice. He understood.

If we come to that, we have already failed.

Eldavin ended the session by clapping his hands and dispelling the room. Everyone sat in a blank, tiled room and looked at him as he rose.

You all bear a weighty secret. I trust you will hold that knowledge tight. You already do with meand that is well. But you cannot be ransoms of another world forever.

Were guests of each faction of Wistram. That hasnt changed, Grand Magus. We are learning magic, but thats a long way from us being proper [Mages].

Elena pointed out. Eldavin nodded. He swept the room, counting their levels.

Yes. There are a few of you with adequate levels, but with Wistrams authorityit is difficult for you to advocate for yourselves. That must be rectified. The strength to stand on ones own is a foundation of trust. I will take care of it.

He looked at them. There were three with levels high enough to even be counted.

Troy, Elena to some degree, and

The young man ducked back. Eldavin saw a mop of untidy hair.

Aaron Vanwell.

Now, why did he avoid Eldavins gaze? He had been patently fascinated before, but something had shifted. Well, there were many normal reasons for that.

How will you do that, Grand Magus?

Eldavin smiled, a bit patronizingly, at Elena.

For that, my dear, I hope you will attend my ceremony tomorrow. I have an announcement to make.

She eyed him, but the others looked interested. Eldavin checked the time.

[Astral Clock]ah, I am late. I will see you all tomorrow, then. Excuse me.

He hurried out of the room with brief farewells, and nearly ran into his next guest.

Archmage Viltach.

Grand Magus. Or is it Archmage?

Eldavin smiled slightly.

Not yet. Will you walk with me? I apologize for the delay. Children and their discussions.

Naturally.

The two strode along the corridors, and Eldavin refocused. The Archmages of now were not the powerhouses of magic as before, but they were still people and clever enough.

He did not like them. Verdan Blackwood, Valeterisa, Feor, Viltach, and Nailihuaileas well as one or two more with the honorary title, who hadnt even bothered to come to Wistram yet.

They didnt deserve it. They were [Politicians] before they were [Mages]. Valeterisa was a true scholar of magic, but she was hampered by her environment. She would agree with him; none of them deserved the title. Let them call themselves by their actual classes until they rose to the honor of that class. If it hurt their egosit was fair.

Yet Eldavin did pretend to smile and talked with Viltach with as much aplomb as he could muster. The other man was certainlyoily.

I must congratulate you in advance on your advancement. It must be a record.

Hardly. There have been [Mages] who took this title within a week. Far more deserving than you or I.

Viltach hesitated. He nodded, baring his teeth uncertainly.

Yes, well. Im told you have some project you will announce concurrently tomorrow? With your title?

The Terras faction has been hard at work, yes. All this magic must go somewhere.

He had been casting spells every day. His level of spellcasting, which, even without Skills, was potent indeed. When you had so much magic and talent, why wouldnt you use all but a reserve?

Viltach and the others knew it, too. The Archmage of Terandria felt at his side.

Thewand you presented me with is a very fine piece of work. Very fine. Ive admired the craftsmanship time and time again.

Have you taken it apart?

The Archmage hesitated.

Yesextraordinary. Self-assembling?

Self repairing.

Viltach had to pull out the carved Joi-marble wand and look at it again. Eldavin had put some hard work into it, much less sourcing proper materials. It was a complex designa bit too overengineered, but he had done it when Troy told him how much of a craftsman Viltach was.

Joi-marble was a treated magic marble that was actually a terrible conductor for magic. You used it for insulation, so Eldavin had turned the handle into a magicore resin, into which hed run three channels.

Channels for a wand were to conduct magic around the core and alter the magical nature. So hed done a thin line of literal magma, some purified water ensconced with Starshell Aquamarine, and a final line of void-element magicore.

Of course, keeping the magma hot, all three channels in multiple outputs along the wandsuch that you could see fiery stone burning along the outside of the Joi-marble alongside water and a ghostly, dark substance that ate away at the lightall needed a barrier. All of it was powered by the source of the magicin this case, a four-element reaction contained in a tiny dimension-sphere.

Live elements, feeding off each other. Rather like nuclear fission, actuallyonly with magical elements that the spells conjured into existence to enhance one another. Eldavin had been a bit cheeky; the wand was certainly powerful, and it wouldnt fade in powerfor about seven years.

Real cores that could last forever were hard for him to get, and he had to be a bit thrifty. Eldavin would also admitit was sort of a bad wand.

Oh, it would certainly boost Viltachs magic to an extent that Eldavin doubted any other wand would for a [Mage] of his level, short of a Relic of this era. Howeverwell, look at the channels.

Purified water? Magma? Void? Of the three, youd get most use out of the water, and maybe boosting your geomancy-pyromancy spells, but who used void magic exclusively?

It wasnt designed for Viltachs own magic, but rather made to impress someone like him with Eldavins own abilities.

It had certainly got the Archmage agreeing to back the Terras faction. Viltach had also been very effusive over the gift, which made up for a lot of borrowed ingredients.

Magnificent work. I dont think I could create this, even with it as a blueprint.

The man murmured, not able to conceal the chagrin and envy in his tone. Eldavin was careful not to sound superior.

It isnt for experience, I think. Ive seen your work, and you are an adept craftsman. More patient than Iits simply for lack of tools and methodology. With the right practice, you could easily improve it.

You believe so?

Eldavin nodded. They were concealing their conversation as [Mages] watched them walk together.

This is what I wish to do, Archmage Viltach. Take Wistram to a point where these wands are, if not commonplace, accessible. For purchase! That would mean the truly inaccessible wands are the stuff of Truestone. Or bound light itself.

The age of myths.

Viltach looked up, as if he could see it. Eldavin nodded again.

That is Terras goal as a faction. That, and managing the Earth situation.

Improving magichas long been the claim of Centrists, Libertarians, and most groups.

Viltach, as head of the Libertarian party, was quick to point this out. Eldavin met his gaze directly.

It has been. But I am placed to make good on the promise. However, like every faction, Archmage ViltachTerras has a nuance that intersects with politics. In a sense, ours mirrors your Libertarian faction. Wistram has been the political, yet independent, party too long. The vulture who plays both sides. We must entangle ourselves. It is not a perspective Feors Centrists share, nor Verdan Blackwood with his

Eldavin snapped his fingers briskly, conjuring mana sparks as he searched for an appropriate word.

Armored interests?

Viltach suggested. Eldavin gave him a wry nod.

Archmage Nailihuaile is reasonable in this regard. So I hope I can count on the Libertarians tomorrow in a snap vote.

Regarding your announcement. And that would be?

To be announced tomorrow. So secret that I believe my faction will first hear of it from my lips when I say it.

Viltach looked at Eldavin. A snap vote on matters Eldavins own party hadnt heard of? And he was asking for Libertarians to vote on it? An unconditional yes?

Madness. In old Wistram, that was. It would never fly, but, because Eldavin was here, hed calculated this would work.

If I tell him or my people, word will spread and theyll jumble themselves up over it. They have to start running and keep running after me.

But he couldnt swing the Council alone. Eldavin could do what he wanted, in theory, and let them censure him, but he wanted this to drag all of Wistram in.

Nailihuaile, Terras under Eldavin and Valeterisa, and the Libertarian block would have a majority no matter what Feor, Verdan, and the independents wanted.

Of course, it depended on both other Archmages putting all their political capital behind a blind deal. Insanity?

Someone watched Eldavin and Viltach. The man smiled, putting up his hands, just as planned. You could still read his lipsif you tried very hard to pierce the obfuscation spells.

I cant simply agree tosomething something. Eldavin put a hand on Viltachs shoulder. The watcher hesitated as he saw Eldavin say something. Viltach recoiled as if struck, then stared down at the wand.

Dont do it, you fool.

Viltach looked at Eldavinand then nodded.

Archmage Feor cursed a blue streak. Eldavin smiled, took Viltach by the hand, and pulled something from his bag of holding. He handed it to Viltach, and the Archmage of Terandrias eyes locked onto it. Then he strode away.

be seeing what happens tomorrow. I assure you, more will be coming.

Eldavin proceeded ahead, slowing as a [Mage] waved a hand.

Grand Magus! Grand Magus! Please, can I ask you a question about magic?

Shut up, you idiot!

A nervous gaggle of students watched as Eldavin slowed. The half-Elf sighed, but smiled.

Yes, young man?

The nervous Lizardman was holding a spell tome. He was so surprised he nearly fell over, but then was leafing through his spellbook.

I had a spell I was stuck on. I think you can make itelastic? But no one says its possible. But I said that if anyone would know

Ah, advanced spellcraft. Show me?

The students all gathered around as Eldavin waved apologetically at Viltach, but the other Archmage had stopped. Eldavin hmmed and checked the students question against his spellbook.

They used to do that to Feor. Not that the half-Elf could stop for every question, but he had been known to do that.

Now?

We had an agreement, Viltach. Whatever hes up to, you were supposed to refuse. Are you insane?

Feor appeared and Viltach jumped. He half-hid what looked like hand-written notes from Eldavin. Feor took a mental snapshot, but he didnt see much.

Feor! You were watching us?

It seems I should have.

The half-Elven Archmage glared at Viltach. Look at him. He was Archmage Feor, but everyone looked at the real Archmage of half-Elves now.

It stung. Teuras betrayal stung. His sudden fall from grace stung. Eldavins clearly masked scorn stung.

The worst part was that Feor knew Eldavin was a spellcaster who knew magic beyond his own. He looked at Viltach.

You agreed. Nailihuaile agreed, but shes a young radical who cant see beyond her own tail. How much did you sell your vote for? For anything he wants?

Viltach closed his eyes. He held the sheaf of bound papers in his hand and refused to look Feor in the eye.

Multiple-artifact casting.

What?

The Human man opened his eyes and looked Feor straight in his. The silver-haired half-ElfViltach knew he dyed his hair. It was the kind of secret the top [Mages] shared about, paid for, so they could know. Viltach looked at Feor, then at the genuinely old being standing there, calmly lecturing students about elasticity in spells. Something Viltach and Feor would have happily learned, stood there, if not for their egos.

Because they didnt know. Because Eldavin wastoo powerful. Too old. He knew too much.

He was becoming Wistram. And it reminded Feor of the Drake who had done the same, but with Golems rather than magic theory alone.

Zelkyr.

This is a manual on how to cast from multiple artifacts. Not just a wand in each hand. This is how I could hold eight staves if I had that many hands, or float themand use each one to boost my magic, Feor. Without magical interference from each. Boostingnot linking them up for a minor improvement.

The Archmages mouth moved silently.

Thatsnot possible.

Viltach gave him a sickly grin.

It wasnt. It wasntand now it is. Or do you think Eldavins lying? I dont know what Nailihuaile sold her votes for. I dont particularly care. You might be right. We might be dragged along in Eldavins wake, Feor, but you know what I think? You and Verdan missed your chance. If you were truly intelligent, you would have made a deal with Eldavin first.

He turned on his heel and strode away. Feor looked at Eldavin, who had surely seen him, [Greater Invisibility] or not. The new, upcoming Archmage couldnt be stopped. Feor turned away, rattledand almost missed Eldavin as he bent down to take the young Lizardmans claw.

Eldavin went sprawling. At first, everyone thought hed tripped and gathered around to help him upuntil they saw him clutching his chest, eyes squeezed shut with pain. Feor turned around as Eldavin slowly pulled himself up.

Wait.

How long has it been?

Eldavin didnt respond. He grumpily lifted one arm, the muscles so fine against the skin without blemish that it didnt seem real.

Of course, it was. A [Mage] with the right spells could make their body anything they wanted it to look like. Whatstheirfacethe Ullsinois leaderwas proof of that.

Eldavin had just gone a step further to keep his body in pristine condition. It certainly impressed the woman inspecting it. She was trying very hard not to salivate.

Selphids. But she prodded him again as he sat, bare to the waist.

How long, Grand Magus? I have to know. I wont share the secret. I am in your faction and, besides, this is a [Healer]s matter. Although Im not a full one, so if you want me to get ours

A [Mage] is more appropriate, Herbalist Sala. I believe there is a magical component, but self-diagnosis is hard. I dont know how long, exactly. Three months?

Hmm. And your hearthurts? Does it spasm? Does anything set it off?

Not that I can think of.

She gave him a long look. Eldavin sighed.

Nostalgia. But that is an older mans failings.

Ah. Wellthat doesnt sound right. Sympathetic pain. But its not like someone with a hole in their heart.

Perish the thought. I can perform that level of magic, you know. The heart is in perfect condition.

The Selphid [Mage] frowned.

Well, why do you need me, then? Alright, alright. Dont glare. I can at least make you some of the remedies you want. It might simply be stressalthough you can usually detect that.

I know. It is not. I would even consider you taking a look, but there is nothingphysicallywrong with me. Perhaps some vitality boosters.

Maybe its too much copious sex?

The [Herbalist] grinned. Eldavins face was stony.

If that was a serious advisement, I will take it under consideration.

It might be. Thats certainly an energetic endeavor. Why dont you simplyrest? Dont do the hundred things people say you do every day? No magic, no running about. For a week.

Hah!

Sala rolled her eyes.

Youd be so much easier if you were Telim. Very wellless of everything?

Eldavin thought it over and gave her a grudging nod.

Acceptable. It truly didnt hurt that much aside fromnostalgia.

Which isnt really a medical issue that I know of. I thinkwell keep an eye on it. Come to me tomorrow, after your big ceremony everyones talking about. Well check in every day, agreed?

Very well. And secretly. Not that I can hide my first visit, but I can at least teach you some magic while were here.

The Selphid woman smiled, but she watched Eldavin as he put his robes back on.

Not everything is necessarily a give-and-take here, Magus Eldavin. Although, I will happily accept.

He raised his brows.

I know that. There are altruistic people in Wistram, your friend, Telim, being one of them, surprisingly.

He has a better heart.

And a bag of holding full of food. I saw him steal a table of ice cream yesterday.

Sala laughed and shrugged. Eldavin nodded.

I know Wistram is not entirely mercantile. But you all need to learn. So, I will take your remedies.

She nodded, and began grinding up fresh ingredients for the first one. Sala glanced at Eldavin as he felt at his chest. That had been the most intense pain yet. He couldnt hide his disturbed lookuntil he turned to her.

What was that?

And what will we become, Grand Magus? What will we learn to be?

For everyone could see he had a plan. The half-Elf exhaled slowly. He looked at Sala, and thought of his obligations.

He did not have tobut he had promised. That girl. It was always that girl. It always had been.

More trouble? You are always getting in troubleand who did he think of? Not Ryoka, or Magnolia. Who

To Rhir. To Hells gates. To the end of war or until kingdom crumbles.

The half-Elfs mismatched gaze turned, and the Selphid stopped as he fixed her with a look that she couldnt describe. An intensity in it that she had never seen before. Far more than a [Mage] who had lived in the Academy all their days could manage.

Worthy of an [Archmage]. The half-Elf inhaled and spoke.

A glorious people, Sala. Mages of Wistram. What you have always longed to be. The coming days will be a forging fire. Dont miss tomorrow. I promise you it will be the stuff of Wistram of old.

The fire was banked low when she stepped into the room.

Even so, it was still sweltering.

But everything was wrong. Despite the best efforts, there was a sooty quality to the air. No circle of runes on the ground.

Someone had to make do with a fire based off of charcoal. The kind of thing everyone used, but a terrible flame to some.

Sodirty.

Ah.

Now she said it like that, it all made sense. The obsessive, laborious, yet perfect routine. Containment and purity.

Even the tools were no longer as pristine as they had been. Someone kept trying, and they were so clean that another forge would have little fault with them. Only the faintest layer of debris, which only a truly intensive wash could remove, remained.

Filthy. Yet there were no more hands to help. No one to cast magic. No one else here, either.

The owner of this forge, Master Daiton, was upon the walls, weapon in hand. He had left this place to her, because he could.

Nawalishifra. The young woman stood there, her veil and clothing sooty. Burnt, as if she had scorched herself on the fire, set the dress alight. She stood there, resting her weight on the anvil.

That, at least, was a mirror. Obsessively polished, despite the metal and grit that would be hammered onto it. Shenever looked up, her head hung. Something clinked as she shifted her feet towards a waiting pile of metal.

What weapon?

The visitor said nothing. Nawalishifra, Nawal, swayed. Her cracked lips rasped.

Armor? Arrowheads?

No response. So, slowly, with too much effort, her head rose. Slightly glazed eyes focused.

Teresa Atwood looked like she had known better days. She wore metal scale over leather armor and plated leggings; mismatched but snug. It had saved her life already; there was blood worked into the cloth and dried on the scales.

She had a sword on one side, a single-sided blade. Enchanted; fine work. Nawal had seen it once. It hung in the sheathe, and her hand was on it.

Not for violence, but ready to draw, unconsciously. Teresa Atwood, like her brother, had dirty blonde hair when not dyed. She had been a young woman, eyes amber, gawking at the world around her, even when Nawal had first seen her.

Now? Now, she stood there, balanced unconsciously, breathing slowly, surveying the room, Nawala warrior. A soldier in the army of the King of Destruction.

What order?

Nawal croaked again. Teresa looked at her.

None. Theyre coming for the walls. The Crown of Thunder is running out of magic.

Nawal didnt know what she meant at first. Crown of?

The towers. The lightning stopped. I can hear it, even here.

Teresa nodded shortly. They had been firing off and on for days. At first, the enemy armies had tried to block the lightning coming down, then tried to bait it with smaller forces. Only when they moved in bulk did the lightning strike from one of the towers around Reim, the capital city named after the nation.

Lesser forces had tried to take the walls, but they were cut down by arrows before they could get close. SoNerrhavias Fallen did what it had done this entire war.

It bled.

Hordes of Stitch-folk, the poor Hemp, charged at the walls, looked up, and saw a flash. Yet they kept coming, bleeding the magic dryor trying to.

They keep coming. Again and again. They stopped for two days, and I think the [Soldiers] tried to rebel. We saw Cotton, even Silk, leading charges. [Mages]some of them could block a shot. They had to.

Even Hemp will not suffer forever.

The [Smith] of Clan Tannousin murmured. She stared at the anvil.

What work?

Teresa shook her head.

You asked that. We dont have any work.

The young woman, the Human standing at the forge, laughed. She looked up and moved again, around the anvil.

Another clink.

She had chained herself to it.

There is always work for a [Smith] in war. My father told me that. Nails. Arrowheads. Blades to reforge, armor to mend. What. Work?

We have no more wood for arrow shafts. They havent reached the walls, not yet. We dont need more blades. Not yet. Everyone is armed. Even the refugees.

They had come from across Reim. People settling the new villages, fleeing ahead of Nerrhavia. Orcoming to defend the capital.

Defend the King of Destruction. They came, when his vassals could not. Orthenon. Mars. TakhatresGazi, absent on her great mission.

All of them embattled, or so Teres believed. The last she had heard, Mars had challenged an army alone.

Takhatres was fighting in Hellios, protecting the Gnoll tribes and keeping the region from flaring up into outright rebellion. If there were anyone who might come in time, it was Orthenonbut he was far to the north.

And the armies knew the King of Destructions vassals would not let him die. So they were coming.

Venith and Maresar are preparing for the first clash. They have some siege weapons, but they tried trading shots. One of the towers went down; we got the rest. Maresar calls it a good trade.

Archmage?

They only got one look at it. A glowing spell circle had traced itself on the floor of the room. Old stone cracked, revealing

A smooth floor, like glass or crystal. Semi-transparent, underneath of which lay a nimbus of glowing lights. Power.

Raw mana. The Archmage of Memory kicked a piece of the stones away dismissively. They forgot what rooms did.

It was, of all of them, Archmage Viltach who figured out what the spell circle was for. He looked down and freaked out, raising his voice.

Its a spell circle. Thisthis is a massive spell. This entire room is a ritual room! Get out of the radius! Get out of

The Libertarians went running, followed by the rest of the Council. They stampeded away from the edges of the glowing circle. On it stood members of the Terras faction. And the sixteen.

Ordinary people. Some Earthers with only a shred of magical knowledge, if any at all. ButTroy saw Flynn wave at him. Point down. Eldavin returned Verdans horrified gaze with a calm one. He took a breath.

My heart hurts. But he had learned something. Thisthis was going to be hard, even though this room was meant for such things. Yet

I have no Skills. Somehow, though, I have a surplus of power.

He drew from it now. Somethingthe room began shaking. The [Mages] on the ground looked up at him, but Eldavin didnt need long. It was a mark of him that he kept repeating that word.

Sailing. You fool. The age of magic comes and goes, and always, always we say, this time it shall last forever. But the truth is that it will always come back. Again! Again and again! Always differently!

He pointed a finger as the air charged, lifting every hair, filling the atmosphere with potential and pressure. A wondrous force, pressing down on younot on your skin, but the very leyline of your magic. Troy saw Eldavins lips move.

I do not need a boat to get to Terandria. I am Archmage Eldavin of Wistram. Archmage of Memory. And what I remember are two words: [Grand Teleportation].

The circle flashed. Eldavin threw up his hands and the [Mages] shouted

Then the world in the circle blinked, and that flash of what had been there lingered in the air, like a photographs flashonly it was them. Fading, a memory of what was.

Travelling around the world in an instant.

Ser Greysten, the Summers Champion of the Order of Seasons, put up his axe, weary.

Form ranks! Hold them!

The Season of Summer formed a battle line. They were coming. A full legion of the Order of the Hydra, pushing towards Pheislant.

They were coming along the coast, and Pheislant was forming a full army with more [Knights]but the [Knights] of Ailendamus were relentless.

Greysten refused to let them regroup and pursue Rabbiteater and the others. So they fought. The [Knights of Summer] did not laugh or expect an easy victory.

So many [Knights]. They spread out, cheering for their kingdom. Ailendamus. No Dame of the Hills, but so many

Counter-levelling against the Summer Knights. Greysten tasted a bit of bile in his mouth. He set himself grimly for another battle.

He had not been checking the news. So when one of the Autumn Knights galloped towards him, he didnt know what was happening.

Ser Greysten! Something is coming! I sense a huge magical signature on our position!

Break! Break! Magical artillery incoming! Shield spells!

The Summers Champion reacted with perfect reflexes, and the Order of Seasons broke instantly. Greysten looked towards the north. Had Ailendamus sent reinforcements? Already?

But then he saw the Order of the Hydra doing the same things. Their lines of neat halberds broke up, and both sides stared at the other breaking up andslowed

Then the world split in half. Greysten whirled and saw the sky open and, for a second, he locked eyes with Archmage Feor across a gap in the sky. He recognized that magic.

Teleportation.

But instead of a group travelling across the void as the Order of Seasons could doan entire section of Wistram came hurtling towards them. Terrifyingly fast. Greystens horse screamed and reared, unable to process what it was seeing. Therea half-Elf was pointing

Then the two dimensions collided, and the backblast knocked a [Knight] flying. Greysten saw Dame Voost try to twist in the air and hit the ground with a sickening crunch on her left side. More [Knights] were knocked flat.

The shockwave rippled through the air for a moment, visible as the dust and debris were thrown outwards. And then

Silence.

The Order of the Seasons and the Order of the Hydra, soldiers of Pheislant and Ailendamus, looked at the figures standing there.

Less than a hundred. Less than a hundred, teleported from the Academy of Mages in the ocean all the way to

What is going on?

Greysten had drawn his axe and raised his shield warily. He didnt know what to call these [Mages]. Most were gasping and looking around; several were throwing up, including a pudgy [Mage]. Were they here to reinforce one side or the other?

Or unrelated?

Then he saw the one person who seemed in control of it all turn. A superlatively well-muscled half-Elf looked around. His eyes rested on the Summers Champion.

Ah, ideal. Excuse me, Summers Champion. I am Grand Magusthat is, Archmage Eldavin of Wistram. Head of the Terras faction. We are here to participate in the war against Ailendamus. Would you allow us the courtesy of the first attack?

Ser Greysten stared at Eldavin. The Summers Champion had no idea who this wasno, a vague recollection.

A spell out of nowhere. A dubious offer. A strange half-Elf?

Greysten was still Greysten. The Summers Champion began to smile. He raised his axe and saluted the Archmage.

I take you at your word, Archmage! I cede the honor to you!

Eldavin half-smiled. He nodded, and rose upwards. Now, his voice magnified, just in time for the scrying spells to catch up. He raised his hands to the heavens.

I am the Archmage of Memory!

He shouted it at Ailendamus. The [Soldiers] and [Knights] were reforming, but their weapons trained on the strange half-Elfmoved upwards. The [Knights] checked their weapons, and then lowered them.

For Eldavin had begun to rise into the air. He floated higher, and the skies darkened around him.

Thisyes. Eldavin inhaled.

This was familiar.

I am Eldavin of Wistram. I declare war on Ailendamus! Free the Wind Runner of Reizmelt. Those before meflee or perish. Or I shall bring such battle as you have never dreamed.

His eyes flashed.

Forwards. A new era dawns. Forwards, [Mages] and children. Show them the war of the future.

He pointed, and the sixteen volunteers looked up at him. Uncertainty. Greysten glanced down and blinked.

What is? [Knights]?

That was what he thought at first. They looked like it. He saw a young man slowly sliding a visor over his face. Suchcolorful armor. It could have fit with the Knights of the Summer, if their armor were more pristine. It was different, though.

The magic. The magic. What are they wearing?

Ser Zulv muttered. The [Summer Knight] stared warily at the sixteen. Young men and women. [Mages]but not strong ones. They hadit was like a backpack was built into their armor. The visors were strange, more like masks. Bulkier armor than a [Knight] would want, to be able to move, even backflip or run.

Youd never be able to ride a horse with that kind of ungainly armor, not well. Greysten didnt understand. Thenhe saw the first figure step forwards, and raise an arm skywards. A fist, rising upwards.

A gesture? NoGreysten watched as the lone figure in their strange armor stared upwards. Such an odd posture.

There should have been a cape. Ryoka Griffin wasnt breathing. The royal family eyed her. They were waxy with shock, but the Wind Runner hadnt been breathing for about a minute.

King Itorin II did not understand what that armor did. Thelook. The look was familiar.

Aaron, you fuck!

Cara shouted. She pointed at the armor. The young man in armorthe Humanlooked upwards.

Then, they began to fly. The figure drifted upwards and almost jerked in shock. Their gauntleted hands flashed as they spread them out instinctively, to catch themselves. Then they flew forwards hesitantly.

The other fifteen drifted into the air. Some leapt, others flew up and then descended. The most experienced pilots flew higher. Cara saw the [Knights] on the ground staring up as armored figures flew overhead.

Warriors of the future. Some clutched staves or held wands. A few just pointed the strange gauntlets ahead. They began to unleash spells from the armor as she watched. The Singer of Terandria was white-knuckled.

The future of two worlds collided.

Powered armor. Super-armor. Flying warriors. The first spells were wildly out of range, but Ailendamus army didnt know what to do. Arrows flew backwardsand those that even hit the figures drifting through the air snapped on the enchanted breastplates.

The children were not good at using the armor. Some knew how it should be used. The rest were still mostly ineffectual.

But they had a chance to learn. [Mages] were notoriously fragile in combat. Experts like Magus Grimalkin ate Wistram-trained [Mages] for breakfast.

Soa simple, clever man would figure out a way to give them a chance to learn. Take a project from Aaron Vanwell and

Complete it.

Archmage Eldavin saw the Order of Seasons jerk into action below. Moving forwards to support the flying magic-knights. They would have a new name for them, soon. Perhaps new classes.

He hung higher. Ailendamus army was stunned, but still willing to fight. An arrow flew towards him, propelled by a high-level [Archer]s Skill.

Eldavin ignored it. It struck a barrier and vanished. Not broke, not disintegrated, but vanished. He flew over the enemy army, and they scattered around him.

Flee or perish. This is your last warning. [Pillar of Flames].

The ground underneath him turned into an inferno. The Summer Knights looked up into a bonfire a hundred feet wide, in a perfect circle, raging upwards.

Where does this magic come from? How do I remember gods?

My heart hurts.

So many questions. He wanted to go back to the High Passes and rest. ButEldavin stared ahead. At those flags, waving.

That girl was captive of Ailendamus. He had vowed to keep her safe.

He did not forsake his promises. So the Archmage raised his hands. A spell gathered between them.

[Grand Teleport] captured the worlds eyes. It worried, stunned the other powers of this place. They looked at him and recognized him.

The laughing Death of Magic.

A furious Duke of Ailendamus.

A worried Necromancer.

Wondering who he was. Guessing. Countless more, who knew or not. A [Lady] clutching her [Maid]s hand in a white-knuckled grip.

The armor was a signal. Arm them. Wistram would have an army. And an army to fear, no matter how few of them there were. A single [Mage] could turn the tides of a battle. Fifty suits of armor.

You should have worn it, Troy. Or is it Trey?

Eldavin drew on that unknown connection. Deeper, deeperhe gasped. The air began to morph around him.

So bright.

The Archmage of Memory cast his spell, to show them the last of it. Like his [Light Bridge]

They descended to earth, bearing regalia of another time. Each one perfect in detail. Horns engraved with sigils of old blew a tune only the dead truly remembered.

In ranks, a legion of their own, marching forwards, so perfectly done in face and guise that only the golden light making them upno, gentle light.

Sunlight

Marked them as not real people.

Silvenia. You could do scarce better. Who is that?

The Death of Chains, Czautha, pointed at the warriors. Silvenia didnt answer. She just listened, hands clenched, shivering with anticipation. She said the words as the half-Elf shouted them.

[Legions of Radiance, the Sundrenched of Caonis]!

A summoning spell. A thousand warriors charged as the Order of the Hydra looked up and quailed.

Visophecin. Get me the Thief.

Rhisveri spoke in the silence. The Viscount stood up.

Thats your enemy?

The Wyrm stared at Eldavin. His fake self vanished.

The Wyrm of Ailendamus hissed. He glared at the image.

That half-Elf will die. Prepare more armies. We are taking Calanfer and crushing all of them. All of them. Do you understand me? All of

Then it was done. The remaining [Mages] in Wistram were merely an audience. They watched as the Archmage of Memory entered the war on Ailendamus. His faction was fighting, although it was a rout.

High Mage Telim, Sala, the rest. So that was what he meant.

They would level or die. This was the forging fire for [Mages]. A war.

The others were shaking. The other factions, each led by an Archmage or powerful [Mages]they looked at each other.

Were they factions? Was there anyone but Eldavin worthy of the title of

Feor was white-faced. He sagged against a wall. That damned Eldavin. He was ruining everything. There was no stopping him, was there? He could throw any plan into chaos. He was too powerful to stop.

Verdan had the same look on his face. The two Archmages had joined forces, but even if the others didif they somehow persuaded Amerys to join them? If it was five Archmages versus one Eldavin, how were the scales balanced? Not just in power, but knowledge?

He was too dangerous. Too old.

Someone else agreed with them. As Feor tried to work saliva into his mouth, a hand tapped on his shoulder. He jerked, turned to tell someone else to begoneand saw one person not transfixed by everything.

Even though it was his creation, taken and refinedAaron Vanwell had not joined the testing of his armor. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

What? What is it? The Grand Magusthis is not the time to discusswhatever it is, Aaron.

The young man shook his head. He stared back at the Archmage of Memory in the scrying orb.

He wont be a problem, Archmage Feor.

The Archmage stopped, about to step away, politeness or not. He looked at Aaron, and the other Archmages clustering to talk did the same. The young man spoke, his voice uncertain, but the words

Eldavin will not live long.

It was such a ridiculous statement. Soso why did Feors skin chill? Why did the half-Elf look at Aarons gaze as the young man blinked and backed away? He turned back to the scrying orb. And

Wondered.

It was time.

The Archmage of Memory made his move.

Great powers moved. In Chandrar.

Elsewhere.

Such silly powers.

It was time. Did you forget? However long it took, you should never

Forget.

A mortal manno, an immortal Dragon who thought he was a mere man?

The might of Wistram.

A nation as powerful as Ailendamus.

They were all dust.

Dust compared to the dreams of old. There lay the final resting place of the greatest beings who had ever walked this world. And each of them came here.

Dragon. Giant. [Archmage]. [Hero]. [Legend]. Monster. Tyrant.

All save for true nightmares.

All save for Goblins and their ilk.

All save for those that had already beenlost.

Yet even in the lands of the dead, the sun shone downwards. The memory of the sun, from the memory of an umbrella, stolen. Stolen!

The same for the sword, held aloft by the sentinels at the edge of Chandrar. Enough to keep the shadows and nothings at bay. Enough to stave off death.

Death had consumed one continent, but the rest of the bastions still stood. Indeed, in Chandrar, in the lands of Khelt as they had been and were now, there was great cause for celebration.

Someone was coming back. Or it might be possible, now.

Still, the young woman sat with her head in her arms. Grieving for the cost. Grievingas an exasperated [Witch], her friends and allies, paced around her.

The other ghosts, kings and queens, were sympathetic, but made plans. All was going as well as could be expected. They had reached a stalemate, and it favored them.

The frustrated five could not advance into any remaining zone.

Five.

Each one had a name. Some people even remembered their names, but with no

Faith

In their hearts. Five. Some called the one with the beard the greatest.

That was all you remembered. The beard, because that was constant. A vanity? A way to remember.

They named him Tamaroth.

Anotherthey called Kasigna. She was the most powerful here, and the other four were warygreatly wary of her growing power. Yet even she was frustrated by the defiance.

A third was named Emerrhain. Of the five, those three were the ones with power.

The other two were a man who looked like he danced with every step, a man to know and love and to speak to. The woman was always young, a hunter, a warrior, fierce and proud and always young, for what she represented burned bright and ended faster.

They hung around the other three like envious moths. Angry, jealous.

After all, all three had something. Emerrhain and Tamaroth had afoothold. Safety. Strength from that.

Kasigna? A purity of power, especially here. All three were superior and knew it, and laughed mockingly at the other two, even as they traded aeon-old jibes, bearing grudges and feuds into the now.

If they cooperated, it was grudgingly, because they had to, to survive. Power was driving them apart, reminding them they were no longer dependent on the others.

Five.

Five.

There had been six.

Know them. If he could remember, Eldavin would have known them. The other two were not the greatest of their kind. Greatbut once, they stood among pantheons.

Even so, remember, if only for what they represented. The Gracious Dancer, the Lover, the Friend of the Divine, the God of Dance and Love.

Laedonius Deviy. Two names.

And that young woman, always fierce? Always representing her champions, the ones she loved? She would stand by your side in the heat of war, bless you. You, who took up arms. Hunter of Glorious Souls. Patron of Valor. Goddess of War and Youth.

Cauwine. Armed with bow, the wandering deity who had only taken sides at the last.

Cauwine. You pale. Does that Archer-King with a bow pierce your flesh?

Kasigna mocked her. The huntress bared her teeth, but was forced to endure in silence. For even that one name was a powerit told much that Kasigna used it. Hungrily, the huntress lapped at it, humiliated, a moth drawn to a single lifeline in this dark place.

You make much of yourself, Kasigna. For one who cannot control what belongs to her.

The scholar, the spellcaster, returned from his errand, and Kasignas fury could have scorched even this placeif only there were power enough. The others chuckled, for it was true!

Ware yourself, Emerrhain. You claim that which is mine. You and Tamaroth, grubbing in Izril for scraps.

The bearded mans smile was overly bright. Yetthey stood in the ocean, neutral ground, for it was true that each had claimed a zone.

By their power, Tamaroth and Emerrhain kept the others from theirplaces. Kasigna could challenge either, but everyone was hoarding their strength.

They were still so hungry.

Starving.

Famished.

So, their barbs stayed alone to words. They were frustrated. Angry. Warythis had not gone as planned. Chandrar should have been theirs. Then, with that strength, Terandria would fall next, and then Baleros and Drath.

Then

But it had not happened. Not, for a thief, not, because of one damned kingdom. Not, for the defiance of those who should worship.

It repeated itself. Some of the five saw it, others ignored, but few voiced it.

This was as it was. This was why it was now.

Time again.

Erin Solstices head rose. She had been weeping, ignoring the others. Angry and sad.

And hopeful. That was the worst part. She had been hoping, and knew it came at cost.

So gladso glad, despite the loss. Despite the pain.

She wanted

Califor stopped, her hand resting on Erins shoulder. Cawe, trying to cheer Erin up by making faces, hesitated. Gerial straightened.

What was that?

Every ghost milling about Khelt looked up. Every single oneand there were too many to count in a lifetimefroze. Erin saw it happen as one.

She felt it herself. The [Innkeeper] looked up. Her heart was only a memory, but it wanted to pound.

Her lips opened.

Something just happened.

Erin! Where are you? To me, rulers of Khelt! To me, and the umbrella and sword!

Khelta flew through the air, shouting. The ghosts of Khelt flew after her, and every other ghost on these lands. Instinctively.

Had they come again? Had the sixnofive, tried another attack on the shores?

No. It didnt feel like that. It had never felt like that. Erin flew with the others, seekinggoing to see, but not knowing how she knew.

It was

Instinct. The ghosts travelled as one, a vast distance, taken in a heartbeat in the way of this world, where time lost some of its meaning.

Towards the shores.

Yetthe wrong shores. Califor noticed it, as did the other [Witches]. Somilune, Califor, even a few other ghosts slowed.

This is not the same shore as before. Where are we?

East. East

Some ghosts were along the south of Chandrar. Califor looked at the other Witches.

Naught lies those ways. If it came from Terandria, or Baleros, or Izril, Wistramanywhere else. It would be the north and west. East, for the very edges of Izril, perhaps. But

Some things lie to the south and east. Old, dead places. Sunken land. Yes, thoughlittle. Perhaps Rhir?

A voice. The other ghosts looked up and beheld a vast, winged form.

Xarkouth. The Dragonlord of the Void. He folded his wings, ready to breathe the element of the void itself in defense of all there. He glanced up, nodding at the Giant holding the umbrella, a [Queen] armed with the sword that shone even here.

Yet

A Wyrm who had traveled far scoffed at the Void dragon.

Do you forget basic geography, oh wise Dragonlord? Rhir lies north. North and west of Chandrar!

Xarkouth stared at Rhisveris brother steadily. Until the Wyrms sneering look grew contemptuous. The Dragon spoke for all present, though some ghosts knew what he would say already.

Rhir can be reached from the south. From every direction, if you fly and know the shape of all. Though the route is treacherous and you must skirt the place where even Dragons do not fly.

South? That is impossible. To the south lies only

The Wyrm trailed off. Califor nodded. She adjusted her hat as another secret of this world was revealed. Too late.

Erin saw the ghosts whispering and looked about.

What are we looking at? Califor? Khelta?

The [Necromancer]-[Queen] stared east.

I can think of only one thing. It runs this worlds seam. The place where water ends. The place no one dares go, where magic twists and Dragons do not fly.

Gerial whispered.

The place where worse than Demons lie.

Erin looked around. Then ahead. Towards the horizon, that flat, perfect line across the worldor did it curve? You couldnt tell the distance. But at the edge, unlike Earthlay an end to it all. They called it

The Last Tide.

The end of the world. How it had been, for all of living memory. But not all of dead memory. And nowand now

The five felt it. They drifted across the ocean, further than the ghosts hiding at the borders of their land.

It cannot be. You said it was dead.

They were bickering. The two, the huntress and dancing man, defended themselves.

We saw it fall.

It must be dead. Even it.

If it is not? It is not of us. Norechl

Shh!

That name, like a drop of black ink in a glass of water

Spread. Across the void. The five hushed. They looked at each other and felt it. They drifted further.

No matter where you went, you would eventually find it. The end of the world. So the ghosts looked, straining their eyes. Staring ahead.

For what? They did not know, only that it was there.

From Baleros to Terandria. The ghosts looked into the void. From Drath. Ghosts and dead things. Staringstaringwaiting.

But not for long.

It.

Was.

Time.

Then Erin saw it. At first, she didnt believe it. Like a trick of the eyes, or the light. Yet there was no light or eyes to trick that far away.

Doesdoes anyone see that?

She pointed. The ghosts were silent. Nerrhavia whispered.

I see it. I seea face.

Xarkouths wings flapped. He inhaledhesitated, and then swallowed the fire. For they were so far.

Thatthat is not a face. That is a head.

The Wyrms eyes opened wide.

That is no head. Is it a body?

Gerial was shuddering.

Is it alive? Whatwhat isits an Old One.

Khelta gripped the memory of a weapon in her hand.

No. That is not an Old One.

Cawe was shivering so hard she couldnt speak, but Elucina, the Rebel of String, murmured.

It looks like Actelios

No.

Again, a voice spoke, and it was one of the [Witches]. She turned her head.

That is not Actelios Salash. But it comes from the same place. It is no Old One. They are those that survive in the deeps. This is a thing Drath hunts. Thisis what should not be.

They walk the worlds seam.

Someone whispered. A rhyme meant fora verse from the edge of the world. All the ghosts stared ahead. Then someone else spoke. The Sage of a Hundred Thousand Secrets.

Those are the things that must never reach land. They are hunted from Cenidau to Drath. Yet they are killed. Howhow does this come to this land?

No one had an answer. Erin was shivering. She saw Gerial try to put an arm around Cawe. She looked at the umbrella for reassurance. Thenas her head swiveled across that distant horizonshe inhaled. There was no breath to catch, but Erin froze.

Theres another one.

Every ghost looked left. A ghost of a warrior uttered a soft oath.

No.

This is impossible. Those are notnot

Queen Merindue hugged herself. The Queen of Nerrhavias Fallen stared ahead.

Those are not ghosts.

They were not. Such things left no ghosts. They should not have life.

Perhaps they didnt. Perhaps that was why they came. But how? Why now?

There were places even Dragons did not fly. Places [Sailors] never went. A span where even ghosts did not walk.

From that edge of nothingness, that foreign zonethey came.

First one.

Then two.

Thenmore.

They were rising across the horizon. Such that, even from afar, you could see them. Lesser and greaterbut only the worst of them could climb

What has Norechl done?

Tamaroth was the first to speak. His eyes were wide. Even heeven the five were frozen with the sheer horror of it.

This was beyond madness. Why did they come? This was a suicide for them, surely.

The question had a simple answer. They saw it coming. Striding across the water.

It had no face.

It had no real shape.

It had no identity, but it was.

Like them. But not.

Norechl. It was smiling.

God of the Lost. First of Nothing.

You! What have you done?

It was laughing. Kasigna raged, but Norechl laughed. And now they saw it. The countless shapes rising from that forbidden deep carved out of the world. The things that should never walk under sun.

They were following Norechl. It had fallen down.

Fallen over the edge.

Suicide for any but it. Somehowit had survived down there. And it, itthat demented, twisted thing

Had led them up.

Not just up. Not just convinced them to follow itno, they were hunting, greedily following it

Norechl had led them here. Out of where they should have appeared. An impossibility for any but them. After all

It was only a matter of perspective.

They came. Too many to count, rising from every direction. To Terandrias north. To Izril and Chandrars east, and Chandrars south. To the west of Baleros. From Rhir. Across from Drathtoo many to stop.

In the lands of the dead. An army to break any stronghold. A gambit that would end all. The five. Norechl itself.

Ghosts.

Creation.

So nothing laughed. The Furthest Traveller brought ruin. The ghosts stared at what slowly pulled itself up. They rested there. Some fought each other. Most were so tired. It had been a long, longclimb.

Some had even gotten

Lost.

Yet they sensed what lay ahead and came forwards greedily. Slowly. Towards the ghosts.

This is the end.

Khelta broke the long silence. Erin Solstice jerked her head away. The ghosts stirred.

They had been staring, watching the figures coming up. How long? None of them knew. Only that nownowthey turned away from that sight. Towards Khelta.

This is the end. We must move. That will not be stopped with light and a single blade alone. To Khelt! To arms! This is the end of everything! To me, ghosts of Chandrar!

The [Necromancer] howled, and suddenly every shape was in motion. They fled the shores. The Giants stomped away from their watch. It was time. It was too late.

It was

The ghosts found the King of Khelt pacing about. Eighteen rulers and a young woman descended around him, as the other ghosts made plans, babbled, and a Dragonlord took flight. Surely the others had seen it.

They had time. Timethat army advanced slowly, but this was it. So Khelta shouted.

Fetohep of Khelt! You must awaken Erin! You must hasten the completion of the ritual at any cost! Fetohep, the enemy has made its move and time has run out!

All the ghosts shouted at him. The undead king jerked. He spun around.

Great Khelta? What is happening? Is Erin Solstice alive? Where have you been?

Alive? No. We have seen the enemy. It moves! They come from beyond the edge! Fetohep

The [King] glanced around, patently bewildered. Erin flew about the capital and hesitated. She looked around, zoomed through the palace. Something was

Wait.

Where were all the rooms filled with the research? Those poor, frozen bodies? She could only see the world as it was, the objects, not the people. Butbut

Wait. Wait. Thats not

She flew out to the ritual and saw the [Mages] standing there. Staring down. Erin flew towards the palace and heard Fetoheps voice.

Great Khelta. Wait. Explain.

There is no time! We must move! There is not time to waste!

Time. I thought you had alreadyKhelta. Where have you been?

At last, the tone of Fetoheps voice made the ghosts pause. Serept, Xierca, Khelta looked around. And they realized what Erin had.

Something hadchanged. The throne room was configured differently, which wasnt a huge surprise. Things came and went. ButErin couldnt find the laboratories. She stared out the window.

That building wasnt there before.

Khelta looked about.

Fetohep? How longwe went to the coast to seehow long has it been?

The king stared up towards the empty air. His golden eyes flickered with uncertainty.

It has been one month since I last communicated with you.

Erin Solstice looked at the ghosts. They turned. Looking at each other, then towards that horizon. Kheltas lips moved. Then she looked at Erin. The [Innkeeper] saw the ruler exhale slightly.

Then it is beyond time. Erin Solstice.

She reached out and took the [Innkeeper]s hands.

Let us go.

So slowly, slowly, they went to see how it would all end.

Authors Note: Well, this is the final chapter of the year, and I have worked my last dayon The Wandering Inn. For this year. Of 2021.

I have an announcement to make. Well, a scheduling announcement and a truly important one. The important announcement is that I have written a book. In secret. During those breaks where you thought I was resting.

Tada.

It is called Gravesong, and it is fully written and in the process of being edited. It will be at least 150,000 words long, it is a novel and the first book in The Singer of Terandria series. I plan on releasing a 2nd Draft or a version for Patreons to read on Patreon, never for public readers, and the book sometime in the summer of 2022, with an audiobook as well.

It takes a bit of time to do these things, you see, but I want readers to know the first part of Caras tale now, so I am willing to share it on Patreon, but I cannot publicly for a host of reasons. It might hurt sales, but I have hopes it will sell well when it launches as an e-book, physical book, and so on, for many reasons.

So my break will tie into that; I will be revising during my 2-week break, hence the length. I will take a far longer one after Volume 8 ends, dont you worry, but this is the shortest workable span I can take off. I want to get Gravesong out. I want to finish Volume 8. I also want to rest, but that can come after.

I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and will follow it into next year. There have been bumps and bruises, good chapters and bad, but the world keeps getting larger and I have secret projects and more story to tell. Thank you for reading with me this year, and I hope to see you in the next chapter. Until then,

pirateaba

Gravesong Promotional Poster by /boboplushie