The first thing Thorin felt wasn’t exhilaration. It was relief; thin, brittle, and already cracking. Only then did threads of white mist rush into him, winding through his limbs and chest.

  He’d succeeded.

  He finally became a Magus.

  The panel that flashed in front of him left no room for doubt.

  By the time Thorin went through all the details, his elation had peaked and settled. Settled, because something about it felt wrong. As if it were measuring how long he had left, not how strong he was.

  The box of words hovered ahead, tracking his gaze. He’d never heard or read about magic like this. But since it was from the Magi, the ‘immortals’ who bent weather to their whims, he could accept its peculiarity. From this day on, he was counted among them. And that truth carried a greater meaning for him than it ever could for the others. Because he could now digest the Ghosts without writhing in agony. The last time, that pain had sent him into a short coma.

  Quin and Clay finished their branding a minute later, and the three grinned at each other.

  “This has all the details for your task,” the man said and sent them a thick diary that had seen some years. “And this has the basics that you need to know about being a Magus.” Another tattered diary dropped before them. “When you’ve finished your task, bring the two here and light an incense. Keep them safe and unharmed, and you’ll receive further rewards. They get hurt; you’ll pay the price manyfold.”

  “Is there any time limit, sir?” Thorin asked.

  “Ten years,” the man said.

  “Understood. Please rest assured, sir,” Thorin said. “We’ll bring the two here safe and sound, as soon as possible.

  The man nodded. “You can leave now,” he said then shifted his gaze towards another group that had accepted his task.

  Though he ignored the three, Thorin still bowed to him with Quin and Clay before retreating into the forest. The darkness of the night restricted their journey down, but this had been their backyard for years. Even with the night predators eyeing them, and the Ghosts thirsty for his heart, they threaded through the woods safely. Albeit their grips on their weapons remained firm.

  “He didn’t restrain us,” Quin said when they’d pulled away from the clearing. “What if we don’t fulfill the task and just leave?”

  “We can do that,” Thorin said. “But let’s not break our word for the first trade we do as Magi. Else we’ll have a tough road ahead of us if we get that stigma.”

  “Crossing the border will be tricky,” Clay said. “Bringing back someone from the other side will be even more so.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Thorin said. “For the time being, let’s rejoice.”

  “Thorin,” Quin said. “I don’t feel much different after the branding. Are you sure you can handle eating a Ghost just by becoming a Magus?”

  “No,” Thorin said. “Let’s first understand the basics and learn how to get stronger. Once we have the means of a Magus, we’ll look for a Ghost.”

  “I can't wait to explore it,” Clay said, rubbing his hand.

  “It called itself Archive, right?” Quin asked, waving his hand in front of him, trying to touch the panel.

  “Yeah,” Thorin said. “It said my forte was spirit and the evaluation was average, and something else about contamination and compatibility. What about you guys?”

  “Mine was spirit too,” Clay said. “Average evaluation. Nothing about contamination though.”

  “I had vitality as my forte, same evaluation,” Quin said. “What’s that about contamination?”

  “That recruiter said the same today,” Thorin said, clutching his chest. “He said I had severe contamination and a short lifespan. That’s why he failed me. It’s most likely related to my heart of ghost.”

  “Will there be any problem with it?” Clay asked with a worried frown.

  “It let me live when I should’ve died back then,” Thorin said. “Even if there is a problem, I can only shoulder it.”

  “We are Magi now,” Quin said. “If any issue pops up, we’ll find a solution.”

  “How long do you have?” Clay asked.

  “I’ll live for now,” Thorin said, chuckling.

  “Thorin, how long?” Clay deepened his frown and scowled at him.

  “Two months,” Thorin said. “Don’t worry so much, I’ll be fine.”

  “Once we master the basics, we’re leaving the town,” Clay said. “I had my guy from the mercenary guild look for haunted places and where there were too many deaths. We’ll check them out and get you your fill of Ghosts.”

  “There are some even on this mountain,” Thorin said.

  “We’ll empty out this place before heading out then,” Quin said.

  “That should give me some more time,” Thorin said. “I just need to make sure I can eat them all without the backlash.”

  “Let’s learn the ropes tonight and head out tomorrow,” Clay said.

  “Yeah,” Thorin said, and the three continued down the trail.

  Soon they exited the mountain and reached the Ashfall Town. They were right on time, just before the sentries closed the gates. Since they only received one diary of basics, they stayed in Thorin’s shack on the outskirts of the town and made their bed. Though none of them would sleep tonight. After a simple dinner of rice and gravy that tested their patience, they sat around the book.

  “Who’ll go first?” Clay asked.

  Thorin looked at him then at Quin and threw a rock to a paper and a scissor—it ended in a triangular draw. The next round, he threw a paper that defeated both their rocks. Thus, he got his hands on the diary first and read it with reverence. Clay closed his eyes in silence, but his knees bobbed up and down. While Quin’s stare burned on his skin for the entirety of his read. Only the flickering lamp lit up the shack with disregard and diligence.

  When he finished reading it, he mindlessly passed the diary to Quin and mulled over its contents, ignoring Clay’s grumblings. According to the diary, the branding process was only the initiation that got the ball rolling. Several more steps would follow it before they could attain the actual strength of a Magus. The first of which was triggering their ‘Arcanas’.

  Though his curiosity wished to dig deeper into these ‘Arcana’, he moved on to trigger them for now. “Keep quiet for a while. Don’t disturb me,” he said. Even his flickering shadow settled down as he braced himself for meditation.

  Quin buried his head into the diary; Clay sat in silence staring at the two; while Thorin let his thoughts slip away without clutching them. Time lost its meaning for him before long. The seconds had perhaps turned into minutes, but the darkness of his world shielded him from its passage. The diary had advised to not resist the pull. But Thorin hadn’t felt any so far. Thus, he sank deeper and deeper, grazing the realm of sleep.

  Finally, as he’d nearly dozed off, some existences tugged at him from five ends. The muddy amalgamation of their influence just left a chaotic impression on him. These were his Arcanas. But before he could decide which pull he would answer, his strong consciousness took over. The active thoughts with some premature excitement wiped away his dormant state, and the Arcanas backed off. He woke up with an annoyed click of his tongue and looked at his cousins.

  “What happened?” Clay asked.

  “I failed,” Thorin said.

  “Failed in what?” Clay asked.

  Thorin grunted with a frown. “You’ll know when you read it.”

  “Hurry up,” Clay said, slapping Quin’s thigh.

  “Almost done,” Quin said and ran his eye on the last few sentences before shoving the diary into Clay’s arms. “Did you try it already?” he asked Thorin.

  “Yeah,” Thorin said. “I felt the pull but failed at the last moment, got distracted.”

  “I’ll give it a try too,” Quin said.

  “When you’re at that last point, push through. Don’t think of anything else, don’t let the pull distract you,” Thorin said. Quin nodded and sat in meditation while the two hushed down. Thorin even controlled his breathing for Quin’s silence.

  Minutes passed. Quin forced his meditation soon and sweated bullets, even reciting the garbled chants that they’d heard from the monks in the town. Alas, nothing helped him, and he broke the concentration with a heave of sigh.

  “I failed as well,” he said.

  “I’ll try next,” Clay said, and started his attempt.

  The night bled into the dark hours as the three tried and failed again. In the end, they all slumped in dejection.

  “We fucking suck at this,” Quin said, irritated.

  “Maybe the diary just sucks at giving advice,” Clay said, sprawling on the floor.

  “This is all we have though,” Thorin said with a defeated sigh. “We don’t have anything else for reference.”

  The only solace was that with every trial, the arcanas tugged at him harder. Yet, they remained a moon in the water. Regardless of how he closed in, he never reached them. At this point, even he felt inclined to blame the diary. Perhaps even the intensifying pull was his delusion—his desire misleading him with false hope.

  “I wonder if Liz left already,” Quin said.

  “She must’ve by now. The recruiters won't stay in a town for too long,” Clay said, staring at the ceiling.

  “She might have triggered her first arcana already,” Thorin said, and the shack hushed down. Ribbons of wind slipped through the window and fluttered the lamp, and the three hardened their eyes. The boys had their pride.

  “Yeah, let’s try again,” Clay said and sat up.

  “We’ll succeed,” Quin said.

  “We will,” Thorin said. When he closed his eyes for meditation again, before he could sink deeper, one of the arcanas yanked at him. A pair of skeletal claws caressed his neck and hugged him from behind. The lamp dimmed. The moonlight receded. A biting breath slipped along his nape and froze his blood, as the fingers of death gently reached for his cheeks.

  Thorin halted his breath for a moment then sighed. “Mother, it’s nice to see you again,” he whispered. And the Archive responded to his state with its words hovering before his eyes.

  [Arcana Triggered: Connected to the Death Arcana.]