The World Storm

By Jake R Fredendall

The Stranger Lands is dying.

Forced on the run for murder as a mere novice in willmagic and determined to not repeat the mistakes of his past, he found a new purpose in trying to earn his own redemption. Along with the astute druid Welby, the secretive changeling Crobane, and the fierce dwarven warrior Matthias, Raz set out as

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jake Fredendall
• Release date: May 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798869325952

Book preview

Prologue

The morning hadn’t risen over New Feldon by the time Darian was awake and preparing for a day in the field. The harvest season was upon them and as the weathered man enjoyed his morning tea in the sitting room of his small farmhouse, he smiled at the handwritten note left to him by his wife.

The tea is warm and there’s a biscuit for you on the counter. The kids and I thought you deserved a well-earned hour of extra sleep this morning, join us when you’re ready. 

Miss you already —Rosa

He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of his wife and children tending crops before dawn given all the chaos in the world. Even so, this morning he had convinced himself that his oldest, Tallond, could handle anything just fine. After all, he was nearly sixteen and could already wield a blade as well as many that Darian served alongside all those years ago. Still, his gaze rose to the mantle above the fireplace where his ax, a remnant from the old days, rested. If ever there were a day to pick it up again, it would be this day. 

Just yesterday, news came in from Wallowood that said an entire town had been destroyed leaving no survivors. The only word of what transpired was ill-informed gossip from a boy who lives in the neighboring next village telling word of a bandit attack, but Darian knew better. Bandits would loot, pillage, and maybe kill a few to send a message, but there was no reason to slaughter the entire populace. It didn’t add up, and if he were the same man as he was twenty years ago, he would have walked right over to the town to see it with his own eyes. 

He didn’t view his newfound life as retirement; he saw his small plot of land and his litter of children as a reward for a life well served. He spent decades marching for Lord so and so’s battles, and when he was finally released, he hung up his ax to experience the thing that spilling blood always lacked: companionship, contentment, and peace.

Darian cleaned his dishes and laced up his boots as the sun crested the eastern hills bathing his domain in a golden light. He was at peace and that peace had dulled his instincts. Instincts that would have warned him that he and his family were in far greater danger than he suspected. Pausing at the door, he looked back at the mantle hanging over the fireplace where his ax sat gathering dust. I’m just being paranoid, he told himself before leaving through the back door. Knowing that his family will have already brought forth all the implements necessary for the job at hand, he went empty-handed into the field. 

Darian thought of only Rosa as he continued over the hill and past the pond. He saw her when he reached the spot they were tending. She was running the scythe through the field of barley when the rising sun caught her perfect form. Rosa’s hazel eyes gleamed in the sunlight. Her black, wavy hair was pulled back out of her face. She was shorter than nearly all of her children and didn’t even rise to Darian’s chin. Well into her forties, she had the lines on her face from a lifetime of smiles and the tanned skin from spending her days on a farm. Especially grateful for the sentiment of his family not waking him, he greeted his children heartily. 

Tallond, good morning! Thanks for letting me sleep in. Good morning, Allena, Caitlyn, Penny, and Bengal. Looks like you’ve all made good progress without me!

Pretty soon that leg will keep you hung up all summer, so we’ll need to learn to do this without you, Rosa said, as she moved quickly to him and wrapped him in a warm embrace. The children waved and smiled at the sight of their father but did not stop their jobs of gathering and reaping the land while their parents spoke. 

I mentioned the leg one time and now you’re trying to sell me as decrepit. It was only a bruise, her playful banter never stopped, and she ignored his response.

Bengal’s too young to be out here, I told ya, Rosa continued, smiling as she looked into Darian’s eyes. We ‘eard a wolf howl, and she nearly ran off with a stick, hoping to slay the beast. 

The two laughed for a moment, enjoying their precious seconds of private conversation together. That was the thing that kept him young, he was sure of it. No matter how many years they had been together, the two never had stopped appreciating the little things. Her parents and their friends all called it the honeymoon phase, and would say, "soon you won't be able to stand each other." These predictions proved false, and seventeen years of marriage later revealed a candle burning brighter than ever. 

She’s got a fighting spirit. We’re going to have problems with that one, he said, looking back at her. As they turned back to the field to get to work, Rosa noticed the worried look deep in her husband’s eyes and hers narrowed. She brushed a few dark strands of hair that had wriggled free from her ponytail out of her face. 

You worried about what happened at Ollendale? she asked, a little more seriously.

I can’t help but think we should have listened to your uncle Lenny and moved closer to Stonewall. It’s a free for all out here, Darian said.

You don’t think we’re at risk, do you?

It’s... It’s nothing. Of course, we’re safe. He kissed her head and moved into the field. He wished to not worry his family with his silly suspicions. Fifteen years they had spent on this farm, and every day had been as ordinary as the last. That was not about to change, he thought to himself wistfully.

Sunset came and he was praising Mellika for the bounty they had yielded while Tallond was helping him pack up the last cart full of barley. Darian heard a sound over his left shoulder. His hair stood on end, and for the first time in many years, he sensed danger. 

Tallond, bring this home quickly. Get it in the shed, and make sure your siblings are in bed, he said to his oldest son, whose recent growth spurt left him nearly as tall as his father. Tallond hesitated and gave his father a curious look; in all his life he’d never been asked to bring the yield back to the shed on his own. Nonetheless, he was excited to show that he was worthy of such a task. Without a word, he spurred the donkey to action and rode off for their home.

As his son rolled over the next hill and out of sight, Darian moved northward while wishing he had grabbed his ax. What would it have cost me? I’m a fool, he thought to himself. His footfalls were swift and light as he moved toward what he suspected was danger. He wasn’t sure what he heard. Slithering perhaps? It didn’t sound natural. Darian scaled the hill and looked over a truly terrifying scene that surpassed even the horrors he had seen on the battlefield.

A sheet of purple had fallen over the land, consuming it. Inside this irregularity, the land had disappeared altogether. Slowly, it spread toward him, ever-growing like an infection spreading to every inch of the land. The veil reached upward as well, and Darian could see that as it spread, so too did the darkness creep along. The ground that disappeared behind the purple wall seemed to dissolve into it, becoming one with the endless, purple world on the other side. 

That was not the most immediately threatening observation. There were two creatures whose forms were so ungodly that Darian quivered at the sight. There were no eyes or even heads for that matter, but they sensed him. The creatures had no central bodies to speak of. They were simply made up of a collection of semi-transparent, gray limbs that sprouted out from a central point in all directions. They used what could barely be called legs to pull their formless bodies toward him. 

He was quick to intercept one of the aberrations which launched itself at him without regard for its well-being. He thought of these monsters threatening his family and the rage flooded into him. Pulling with all his might, he ripped the mess of tentacles in half and threw it to the ground as it writhed for the last time. The other seized the opportunity of its allies' sacrifice, and before Darian could recover, the tendrils entwined themselves around his midsection. He hadn’t noticed the mouth on the underside of the creature, but he soon learned of it as its teeth rended into his rib’s flesh. 

The blood fury kept the pain from his mind as he wrestled with the full strength of a man with a lifetime of training. Blood spewed from his wound as he threw the creature to the ground and stomped it into the damp dirt until it could no longer wriggle. As his breathing subsided, he returned his gaze to the abnormal purple view in front of him. Its slow spread suddenly changed. It advanced toward him rapidly, as if it were making a conscious decision. 

His lightning-fast reflexes allowed him to turn around as The Void spread quickly toward him, devouring earth and plants as it closed the distance. Sprinting toward home, he realized that the threshold was only seconds from devouring him. There was a glimmer of hope that his full speed could outrun his fate, but as it surpassed him, he was plunged into a world not at all like his own. He reached toward his home as The Void’s consumption traveled toward it. 

All around him grew dark as he was bathed in a purple hue. He could feel his skin dissolving into sand-sized particles before disappearing into the expanse much like the land around him. Unlike him, the land had no nerves, no mind to comprehend the searing pain that every heartbeat brought. Through the torturous torment, his eyes remained glued to the smokestack over the hill where he knew his family waited for their similar deaths. He prayed to Mellika, Thorintier, Heren, any god that would listen. He begged them to save his family because nothing could have meant more to him. 

His prayers were left unanswered.

Chapter 1: Crimson Silverclad

I will not go by Raz, Conduit of Chaos, I say, laughing as Matthias gives me an exasperated look. 

Well, they can’t call you Raz, the noodle armed, Matthias says, gesturing toward my scrawny frame. All of us are going to have names, and that one is awesome. 

I continue to laugh at his remark toward my appearance as I inspect my badly scarred forearms. He isn’t wrong. I am, by all accounts, rather skinny. I stand a few inches below the average height for a man, but next to Matthias, I feel as small as a caterpillar. I pull on a piece of my black robes that became stuck on a nearby brush and clear my equally overgrown, brown hair out of my face. When I don’t entertain Matthias with a response, he changes the subject. 

You’re not gonna meet the king of the elves looking like that are you? he asks. He pushes me on the shoulder which makes me nearly fall over. 

Matthias is the opposite in appearance from me in nearly every aspect. He has short, dark hair and a shaven face. He is nearly a foot taller than I am and has as more muscle in one bicep than I do in my entire body. At all times, he wears plate armor that covers his entire body in protective steel. As he speeds up the pace to catch up with the others, a glint from his greatsword catches my eye. Incredibly, it is crafted out of diamond using powerful magic to shape a large chunk that we scavenged from another universe. 

I hide my smile as the hulking human reaches his mother and Welby. He and Crobane have filled the last hour of our journey with visions of fame and glory, deciding that we should expand our brand beyond just the group name The Void Walkers. I have been feigning annoyance while this conversation rages on, but it is just the entertainment I need to soothe my nerves as we are all about to arrive in Elfsong. The great warrior king of the elves awaits our council.

What is the elven king like? I call ahead to Matthias, as he continues brainstorming on what the masses will call Welby. Despite them being only a few paces in front of Sigil, Crobane, and myself, they are heavily obscured by the thick brush and bramble overgrowing our trail. 

Crimson Silverclad, he says, with a hint of admiration. An elf whose rage rivals only that of his people’s adoration. No king has ever been so loved or so powerful.

The elven king is proud and short-tempered, but he’s ruled his people well for nearly a hundred years, Sigil’s voice squeaks and cracks as it becomes direr. When you meet him, speak when spoken to. Speak elven only if you are fully fluent. Do not mention his heritage as he is very secretive about it. Some people theorize he’s part orc. Bringing up any part of this would be the easiest way to end up with your head in a basket, especially given the last few centuries of elven supremacy rhetoric. 

Sigil is an elderly man who practices rune magic. He is skinny, short, and has developed a bit of a hunch on account of constantly bending over to inspect ancient tomes and spellbooks. He has white, spiky hair that has deteriorated with his mental capacity over the years of using magic much too advanced for his frail mind.

Never have I seen so much nature all in one place; the trees grow so close together that one would have to squeeze through them to stray from the path. It is surprising to me that we have to walk on foot so far through these poorly kept trails. We are, after all, guests of the crown of the great city of Elfsong. One would think that an entourage of impressive guards would have met us upon our arrival due to our important assignment of investigating ‘The Void Spread’. Perhaps the hero king, Crimson Silverclad, wishes for us to be humbled when we enter his domain.

The nature-loving halfling doesn’t seem to mind the hike. Welby skips about in the beautiful forest with his green eyes darting every which way in gleeful curiosity. He wears a tan tunic and loose, brown pants, both of which are covered in rips and stains. His curly, brown hair bounces about as he whips his head in different directions. This is the happiest Welby has been since the loss of the cheetah, his beloved companion, Namira at the hand of the leader of The New Day Wizards. 

Matthias’s tall and muscular human body gets snagged on thistle and root alike every few minutes. He curses in dwarfish while he cuts through the smaller plants with his diamond greatsword. Welby is not the only one who carries a burden; Matthias complains daily about his human body. Being born a dwarf, he spent many years becoming accustomed to a short and stout stature. The master in the martial arts was slain in The Void only to be miraculously brought back by Welby, but he returned to us in a different body. Matthias has taken time to adjust to his new, repulsive, human shape. 

I’m telling you, he says, heaving as he pushes a large log out of our path, my dwarven body was stronger and tougher. I wouldn’t have even broken a sweat if I had my old body back.

"Yes, I’m sure you’d have taken it in stride," says Crobane, laughing at his friend’s complaints. 

Crobane is thin with light gray skin and spindly, white hair. He is nearly a head shorter than the average human, but he can shift his form and voice to match nearly any bipedal humanoid. In towns and cities, he takes the shape of an olive-skinned man with his face wrapped in a turban. He wears no armor, has basic training garments, and a finely crafted katana slung over his shoulder. He is adroit at disguise, stealth, and a myriad of other competencies. 

What could loosely be described as a road, forks to the left and right with no indication as to where one would need to go. The group stops as Welby approaches a tree growing out of the ground right between the fork in the path and examines it. I use my gantlet-covered hand to brush aside my dirty blond hair which has grown far too long during our travels. I still wear the black robes with gold trim given to me by Jasper Ludicrous. The sleeves have some rips and tears in them, as well as burns from our most recent fight with Professor Rowan. All things considered, they have held up surprisingly well given how many near-death experiences I’ve had while wearing them. 

You see how the trunk is twisted around itself and the branches shoot out in odd directions? he asks, more to himself than anyone else. Welby continues to check out the strangely shaped tree, muttering under his breath in a language I cannot discern as he does. 

Going left will bring us to a town called Symphony and right will lead us to the capital city of Elfsong, Welby says, pulling this information out of thin air.

How could you possibly have determined that? I ask with a smile.

The tree told me, he says without elaborating. 

How did the— I begin, but Welby has the foresight to recognize my question. 

Only an elf or someone well versed in the language of the woods would know to ask a tree for directions. I thought you knew the way, Sigil.

Well, I mean, I just figured there would be road signs, Sigil responded, as he shrugged. 

We continue down the path to the right, and I can’t help but ask a question. 

What is in the town of Symphony? I ask

Meredith, who has remained silent and somber since our teleportation, is the one to answer. Meredith is the last member of the traveling group. She is Matthias’s elven mother. Amazingly, I had learned that Matthias was not a full dwarf, he is actually a half-elf half-dwarf. This was something I never thought possible, but it did explain his beardless face and pointed ears. Though far older than any of the others, Meredith looked near the same age. She wears a green linen dress and has dark hair down to her waist. 

It’s a small hamlet on the outskirts of Elfsong, built on the side of a cliff that overlooks the capital. It’s a beautiful city, but they only allow elves to enter, she explains mildly. 

We’re nearly there, Sigil says, not interested in the current conversation. 

Why didn’t we just teleport into the city? asks Matthias, annoyed by the difficult trek.

Most civilizations have some form of protection against teleportation magic to prevent sieges from the inside. As I said before, there is a place in the castle that I could teleport to if I was allowed access. Alas, I am not. Plus, it’s just plain rude, he explains.

After only a few more minutes of walking, our path leads to a sheer cliffside where the foliage breaks and gives us a breathtaking view. To our left is the aforementioned town of Symphony built into another cliffside in such a way as to not disrupt any of the other plant life surrounding it. In some places, trees literally serve as the walls and ceilings of houses. In others, structures are built using the larger trees and rocks as a solid foundation. Every visible house has a small balcony that overlooks the gargantuan scene beyond. 

A massive gorge lies between us and Symphony, and a great distance into the canyon is the canopy of a similarly designed city. It would be nearly indistinguishable from its surroundings if it wasn’t for a colossal palace that shoots above the rest of the trees that encompass the area. Geometric architecture can be seen from this castle in the form of shining, metallic beams that support its impressive height. 

The monstrosity, while beautiful, catches Welby’s eye. He frowns at it. I think I can see why. The rest of the buildings in the city appear naturally formed and not an inch of the forest is inconvenienced by these elven buildings. Massive trees are hollowed out and, in some places, plants have been magically weaved into a proper shape to house a person. The metal within the castle is used sparingly in strategic locations to support its weight, but it is enough to make it stand out. From this distance, I can see that trees, vines, and roots have been woven into the palace, but they have been grown around the behemoth, not the other way around.

Crimson’s palace, Sigil declares. No elven king has had such a magnificent castle.

Several miles beyond the city is the ocean. It lies stalwart as a reminder of just how tiny and insignificant we are. I have spent my whole life living sheer miles from the sea without ever seeing it personally. I always thought it wouldn’t be anything worth traveling to see. Sasha, my guardian, didn’t argue with my logic. While I can’t say my opinion has changed, it is amazing to see it now spread out before me; endless blue for as far as my eyes can see. 

An hour later, we enter the city and are escorted by a small patrol of elves through the giant walls. The ramparts are a collection of three trunk-sized vines that twist and wrap themselves into knots. It towers above most of the other buildings and has murder holes littered throughout for archers to rain arrows upon would-be invaders. The metropolis inside looks much like the view from above, life is woven perfectly into the forest. Trees and other sturdy plants serve as shelter for the many elves of the city. Windows and doors are simply frames open to the outside air and many elven civilians roam around the market square. Our guide named Talrien Reideir turns to us and removes his pointed helmet to reveal long, orange hair.

I will inform our king of your arrival. When he is ready to speak with you, he will send a runner, he says pompously to us before turning to leave. 

Crobane was informed beforehand that impersonating an elf could be seen as disrespectful and decided that going with a human form was safer. Matthias eventually agrees to remove his armor and wear the noble clothing we bought for him in Moridia but demands that he will keep it with him in his backpack. We are the most non-elven things to be seen for miles by the looks of it, and that fact is reflected in the eyes of the town folk. Many of them stare and contemplate us mildly and without concern of being rude. I notice that I am not the only one weary of all the undeserved attention. Crobane seems to have the urge to dive behind cover at every chance he gets. The others seem unperturbed and even relaxed.

I should go apply for citizenship. Good luck with the king, says Meredith, after ten minutes of us roaming aimlessly around the unmarked buildings. After a short goodbye, Matthias voices a concern aloud.

Do you think they’ll let her live here? he asks the group but looks only at Sigil.

Without question, Sigil says, admiring an odd statue of a green-scaled dragon labeled Shamberlain, The Egg Stomper. They have recently adopted a new decree to accept all immigrants into their country and capitol, provided they are of elven blood. The crown provides them a home, a job, and full citizenship.

Before I can ask more about the elven culture, we are spotted and addressed by a young, elven boy who rushes toward us energetically. He reads from a small letter when he gets our attention.

To the visitors, led by Sigil Madly: Welcome to our fine city. I am ready to meet with you to discuss our next steps. Please follow Ralthir to my throne room.

-Crimson Silverclad.

I find it strange that a boy who is in early adolescence is given such an important task of bringing us to their king. Maybe this is the king’s way of ensuring we don’t think our presence is of high importance to him. After reading the summons to us, the young boy beckons us to follow him and begins walking toward the excessively oversized palace. 

Our guide leads through a lavishly decorated courtyard with exotic trees, flowers, and even a carved hedge to look like a massive grizzly bear. The guards all wear breastplates, wield pikes, and have longbows slung over their shoulders. We are shown through the main entrance and up ten flights of stairs until we finally enter a massive throne room. Tree trunk pillars support this high vaulted ceiling with roots sprouting from the top and bottom to anchor them to the floor and ceiling. 

A throne made of silver rests a distance away from us, conveying an elf of wealth and power to all who visit. Above his throne mounted on the wall sits the symbol of Corryn. It is a golden leaf, and below it, a quote in elvish translated to mean:

From dust we are made, to dust we shall end.

The boy turns to face us and speaks. 

Since you are outsiders, you may greet the king as Crimson or King Silverclad. Never your majesty or my king. He will join you shortly. You may wait in front of his throne. We say a word of thanks to the boy before he turns and makes himself scarce.

A door opens loudly from behind the throne, drawing our attention to it. Perhaps the most muscular being I have ever seen walks into the room. This dark-skinned elf stands over six feet tall. He has fiery red hair that falls beneath his shoulders which are broader than a fully grown dwarf and his biceps are double the size of Matthias’s. His powerful legs could deliver a kick strong enough to shatter steel. He looks like an orc mixed with an incredibly short troll, except for his smooth facial features and curved ears which are both on display.

As if this isn't intimidating enough, he has an exotic sword slung over his back. It has a long hilt made of an obsidian black metal with a razor-sharp blade extending out from each end. He strolls past us, barely glancing at our party as he does so. When he reaches his throne, he detaches his bizarre, double-bladed sword from a hook on his back and sits down. The exotic weapon sits across his legs while he addresses us.

"I am told you’re The Void Walkers and have some expertise on a potential threat to this world. We know you’ve already done your part in bringing some of those responsible to justice, and for this, Elfsong owes you our gratitude, he says before pausing briefly. He points directly at me. What can you tell me about this threat?" 

I step forward and clear my throat in an attempt to lubricate my suddenly dry vocal cords.

King Silverclad, we thank you for a most gracious invitation to your lovely city. We are honored to be in your presence as we further investigate the issue. I notice he quickly grows bored and rolls his eyes, so I hastily skip to the important information.

The New Day Wizards somehow caused rifts to open all around the world. They intended to plunge The Stranger Lands into chaos and then emerge to solve the issue. By doing this, they hoped that they could leverage this power into greater world influence, possibly even domination, I say to him, choosing my words carefully. I can see by his face that he is scrutinizing my every word.

The New Day Wizards are of little concern to me, he says dismissively, they will be dealt with shortly. What intrigues us most of all is the threat that they will leave behind in their throes. You, tell me what you know of The Void, he says, pointing at Welby, who steps forward looking severely underdressed.

Yes Crimson, he says without batting an eye. What we know is that The Void is a lifeless area that fills the space between universes. One cannot breathe there, and matter disintegrates over time. When these rifts are opened, nothing can escape. It seems to not be a two-way portal. They also expand over time, if that’s important. 

On the outskirts of our city, we discovered ruins with ancient texts and hieroglyphics carved into the walls. We have been slowly interpreting the writing and have gotten little accomplished in the last few years. King Zifaroth thinks you can do a better job interpreting these ruins. What makes this true? Crimson asks. Sigil jumps up realizing it’s his turn to talk and seeming to startle even Crimson with his squeaky, irritating voice. 

Yes Crimson, of course. I have studied the planes all my life, spending entire years focusing on The Void and its traits. We know at least ten languages between the five of us, and these four can fight like you wouldn’t believe. We are the foremost experts on this subject, I assure you! Sigil says confidently.

Well then, it’s settled, you’ll stay here and study the ruins and see if you can predict anything that is to come. Hopefully, this is all just a false alarm and your work will amount to nothing of importance. He stands up as if he is dismissing us, but Matthias speaks out of turn.

King Silverclad, if The New Day Wizards are dealt with, why are we concerned about these few rifts? Certainly, we can close them with magic, he says, and I take a deep breath hoping that my friend keeps his head attached to his shoulders. To my surprise, Crimson doesn’t seem perturbed at all by the outburst. 

No, the rifts have been resistant to magic, they are null zones. Any magic we channel near them is absorbed and depleted. We’re concerned because these tears in the world may be portals that could lead to somewhere else, and I’d rather not find out what will come through, he looks sternly at Matthias who nods, and then Crimson continues.

Zifaroth saw it as important to reward you for your help with The New Day Wizards. As such, his kingdom has sponsored the best trainers gold can buy, he says loudly and gestures to another door behind his throne. It opens and through it walks a line of four people. 

Three are female elves all very differently dressed, and the fourth is a male dwarf. The first in line is a burly elf with a great sword much larger than Matthias’s. I can’t help but notice her resemblance to the king; dark skin, red hair, and an expression that looks like she’d rather strangle us than work with us. The second is bald and dressed in furs. She has a bow strapped across her back and she wears a stoic expression. The third is dressed in black robes with a red fang on the front of them; her hair is purely white, and her eyes are gold. She is perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

It’s actually strange how attractive this woman is, even the air around her seems to glow. I can’t help but notice that everyone else, besides Welby, stares at her as well. Her presence commands such an aura that I barely notice the short, burly dwarf behind her. They stand about ten feet away and face us as Crimson gives their introductions. 

My instincts were right as the first elf is named Scarlet Silverclad and she spits disrespectfully when she’s told that she will be training Matthias. The bald elf is named Arlea. Like Welby, she is a druid and is instructed to train him. The white-haired elf stares into my eyes when she’s told that she will be training me in the ways of will magic. Her name is Symmone. The dwarf is given no introduction by the king, but he graciously gives himself a fantastic opening.

The name’s Kaedric Westren, and you might be wondering why I’m ‘ere in a city full of elves. Well, like most folk, I can be bought, so that’s why I’m around these pretty pricks. I’m the best in the business at stealth, disguise, and making stubborn things die. As he completes his short pitch, I notice that all of the elves in the room act like the dwarf doesn’t exist.

You will all be shown to your quarters for the duration of your stay here. Each trainer has a schedule planned for you. Go now, I expect weekly reports on your findings, he says to us, as he stands and leaves his throne room. Each other trainer, except mine, steps forward to formally introduce themselves. Scarlett mostly grunts for Matthias to follow her, I hear the dwarf jovially shake hands with Crobane. Welby and his trainer smile and shake hands. Very quickly, I find myself alone with my new mentor Symmone, and I decide to break the awkward silence. 

Hi, I’m Raz, I trained at—, she cuts me off. 

The academy in Moridia, yes I heard. She steps forward and gives me an appraising look. Younger than I thought you’d be but much more handsome. She brushes her right hand across my chin, lifting it from my instinctive look down. Her coy smile fades into a disapproving frown. When I meet her gaze, trepidation fills my stomach. Have I screwed up already? Did I disappoint her? She tuts and waves her hand. Without the slightest hint of magic, I instantly feel my nerves calm.

You’ll learn quickly with me that it’s all about confidence. I have spells to teach you and techniques that will empower them but more important is your personality. By the end of my training, you will be able to overcome any challenge, sometimes without the use of your magic. Follow me, she says brushing past me quickly. 

I follow her out of the castle in silence and back onto the streets. She leads me through the city for nearly an hour until the buildings are more sparse and simply built. The roads are now places cleared of brush and trees and have short weeds instead of stone. Every few hundred feet, a trail leads off into the forest to a house built into a tree or a cave looking like it belongs to a wolf pack. 

Eventually, we find our way to a small tree house with a flight of stairs leading up to it. The tree itself is no more than twenty feet tall, and the house has only one room. Much like the architecture in the city, it’s difficult to see where nature ends and masonry begins. She leads me up the stairs and into the doorway. A fireplace sits in the corner with two wooden chairs in front of it, and a wolf pelt rug sprawled beneath. There is a small table next to the chairs. A soft, small bed is on the other side of the small room. There are three glassless windows throughout.

Symmone turns to face me, and our eyes lock again. Her face is perfectly clean and smooth, and her eyes are lush and gold. She stands a mere inch taller than I, when her lips move, they sing a song that would make the heavens swoon and a vampire cry. Even mundane instructions are gifts from the divines.

"You will train with me for ten hours a day. Most days we will not take breaks to eat, so be prepared to go hungry. We will alternate days for spell practice with theory lessons. Every six days of work leads to one day off. You’re expected to help your elderly friend study