The beige spellbook Houdinied from his hand to in front of his face again. The design featured a silver hand and a long, stretching arm. Levitating, the cover flipped open in front of his face and began absorbing the skill, flipping rapidly to the end of the back cover. The rapid succession made his eyes hurt; once again, the skill absorption brought a wave of nausea.

  Reina grabbed Rook’s shoulders as he tried to steady himself. “Do you feel the skill?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Rook surged his mana and was surprised when all around him objects big and small were covered in a clear film, pulsing like heartbeats. “Let’s try it.”

  The echoes came from each object, no longer bronze lines. He focused on an empty chair at the dining table at a much greater distance than he’d tried before pulsing like a faint heartbeat. Determined on plucking at the heart beating chair, like he was picking a cherry, he concentrated. The strain on his mana caused immense pressure at the back of his eyes.

  “Rook, you’re bleeding.”

  “Just a little more,” Rook grunted.

  The chair wobbled, clattering from side to side, then shot to the ceiling with a crash. His knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed. Panting, he watched the pieces of the chair lower to the ground.

  “Figured you might try out the new books,” Aaron said with a look of concern. “If you don’t have the mana for it, you are going to cause irreparable damage. A dwarf mage I knew used a lava storm skill. All around us, flaming meteors fell from the sky.” He puffed out a breath of air. “The mage was left in a bloody puddle, bleeding from his nose, ears, eyes, and mouth. You need the mana to cast, if you go too far, you will die…just as he did.”

  “Like Ebola?” Rook asked, somehow managing a joke in his condition.

  “What?” Aaron asked.

  “Never mind me, my brain is still recovering.” Rook steadied himself. “You controlled multiple objects at once when we arrived.”

  “If I understand, it’s a high rank skill, right?” Reina asked.

  “That’s right, you’re definitely not ready for a skill of this caliber. Come back when you are a maxed silver rank atromancy.”

  After a short recovery, Rook and Reina walked away from the entrance and back out into the street. His mind raced with the familiar feelings of helplessness. How the hell am I going to eat this soup with a fork, this time? He felt like life was trying to fill his 5-pound bucket with 10 pounds of shit. Sacred Cipher, Weird elves who want to hunt me, join the games? Getting home with Knox. All the tasks he needed to do began to weigh on him.

  They backtracked through the seemingly less crowded streets. It isn’t just me, is it. This place was filled up a few hours ago. Then again, a few hours ago, they weren’t covered in ichor. Rook’s eyes darted around as they walked; shops were closing their doors as the owners exited. Some begrudgingly carried bloodstone flags. People in the streets no longer wandered around; instead, they were all walking in a single direction ahead of them. Spread out along the walls were empire guards in their royal yellow plate armor, ushering people along. First thing I’ve seen them do besides guard the entrance.

  “Wait,” Rook said, peering across the street towards a toroking seated on a bench. She wore a dress that was torn and stained with some type of red paint. She glanced up, her face was swollen, and the fur on her forehead was red with the same paint. Briefly, she met Rook’s eyes, and a pained expression crossed her features. I’m not judging you, I swear.

  It was all he needed to see. “I’m going to help her,” Rook said, before stepping out into the river of people.

  “Help who?” Reina asked, confused.

  He felt her grab the back of his shirt. “Make a hole!” Rook exclaimed, cutting through the crowd. As he got closer, he realized her head was down, not making eye contact with any of the passersby. “Really, none of you are going to help her?” He asked, his eyes casting daggers at those who gave the torokin wary glances.

  “Hi,” Rook said, sitting beside the lady. On closer inspection, he swallowed hard.

  The torokin’s dress was shredded down the side, revealing a bloody cut on her ribs.

  “Apologies, was I sitting on your bench?” the torokin began to stand up.

  “Please stay,” Rook said, I see you’re hurt.” He took out a healing potion and handed it to her.

  Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped slightly. “For me?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  He glanced at Reina, who gave him a sad smile.

  “Yes,” Rook said, desperately wanting to put on his investigator hat and ask some open-ended questions. “My arm’s getting tired.” He gave her as warm a smile as he could muster.

  “I couldn’t possibly pay you back for that.” The torokin looked down at the vial of red liquid and then Rook, as if expecting a trick or worse.

  Rook sighed, popped the topper, and downed a small sip. “It’s not laced with any poison, nor does this come with ulterior motives. You’re hurt, and I can get another potion.”

  She took the potion from him and downed the contents. In the following moments, as the crowd passed by, her face slowly got back to normal, the cut on her ribs stitched together, and several shifting cracks in her arm told him that it was mended as well. The torokin smiled at him, the lines of her eyes scrunched together. She had brown fur that transitioned into white patterns from her snout to the top of her right eye, effectively splitting her face in two. Her eyes were the color of a sunrise, but they were just as sad as they were entrancing. There was a gentleness about her that reminded Rook of a flower. But the rippling muscles down her arms and the calluses on her hands meant that she was used to working hard.

  “Thank you,” the torokin said, standing up and dusting her dress off. “I won’t forget it.” Without another word, she walked down the street opposite the crowd until she turned into an alleyway.

  “If she looks like that, I wonder what the other guy looks like.”

  “Most likely unscathed.” Reina sighed deeply, watching the crowd with indifference. “Torokin are treated like second-class citizens. When there’s one hurt like that, most people do is call the guard. But, even then, that could be a stretch.”

  Rook nodded, somewhat familiar with how they treated certain people on Earth because of what they looked like. He stood up and nodded at the enhancer. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

  After several minutes of walking and listening to the hushed conversations, he turned to Reina. “What’s happening?” Rook asked.

  “I don’t have a great feeling about this. The only time people move like this is with the empire around, is when there’s an important address.” Reina began to pick her pace up.

  Rook kept up with her strides until they reached the main Ollar courtyard. Two figures standing on a wooden platform are speaking something incoherent to the crowd. Doomsday preachers? They pushed their way towards the platform, much to some of the gathering’s disdain.

  The strange men wearing long red robes worked with twisting designs of gold, spoke in unison. “Be prepared, Ollar City! The mighty Bloodstone Empire representatives will arrive soon!”

  Not good. The patchy white clouds above divided like the sea in the brimstone stories Grandpa Jimmy told him about.

  “Rein-” Rook started.

  His friend was frightened, unlike anything he’s seen before. More so than when she was kidnapped and tied up.

  “It’s the Bloodstone Elves.” Her trembling voice was barely audible.

  Rook bristled, pulling his collar up, ensuring that his markings were covered. Five figures descended from the sky above, riding griffins. There was no other way for Rook to interpret the situation. Elves riding griffins. The lead griffin let out a screech so loud it made his brain numb with pain. People around him screamed and covered their ears. Fuck. This is worse than the riot control speakers. One of the griffins carried a large cage that held six people, dressed in rags. One of the people was less emaciated than the rest of the group; he wore a less ragged pair of burlap pants, tied with a rope. His eyes were wide with fear, as opposed to the rest of the group, whose eyes looked soulless. The great wings of the griffins flapped lazily until the cage was lowered to the ground with a loud clang. The griffins followed closely behind, lowering until their claws clicked on the cobble.

  Holy crap. Rook covered his head, waving off the cloud of kicked-up dust.

  “Are you good?” He asked Reina over the cries of a few nearby children. A mother tried desperately to shush her baby’s wails. People around the mother attempted in vain to distance themselves from her.

  “Fucking Bloodstone,” Reina muttered, her words a low whisper.

  When the cloud of grit cleared from his face, he got a closer look at the beasts and their elven riders. Each man was, for lack of better words, fair-skinned, unmarred by the weather and even time from the looks of it. Two had ebony skin, one olive, and the last few pale as snow. Their glass-like skin almost gave them a fake and ethereal presence, one that the movies portrayed accurately for once. However, the indignant and indifferent faces that they portrayed in the movie were not the same. These elves wore wicked grins, like sadistic kids watching ants scurry and cower before the beam of a magnifying glass. Rook wasn’t alone in his fear. Although he had his command presence, he couldn’t shake the fear that they were extremely dangerous. His breath shuddered in his chest, and his heart beat like a rapid drum. Those closer, pushed backwards, desperately trying to get away from the snapping beaks and talons of the griffins.

  He glanced back over to the cage full of people, normal-looking people. One of them was wearing the same burlap pants and rope belt that Rook got when he first arrived at the Woods of Sorrow. He had a full chest piece with a few different punk rock band tattoos that Rook loved listening to. Under the man’s collarbone, he had the same triangle tattoos Rook did.

  The announcer cleared his throat. “I now present, his royalness, General Aymus Krai, Commander of the Bloodstone armies, and his Lieutenants!” The hawkish man called over the crowd, much louder than expected out of such a small person.

  Rook couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard Raina mutter the words Banshee magic.

  “Where is the master of this town, humans!” one of the announcers spoke up, as if he wasn’t the same race.

  A brawnier-looking elf urged his griffin forward. He was bigger than the rest, his blonde hair tied back in a braided ponytail. He had broad shoulders and a great sword that hung on his back. The griffin eyed the crowd, specifically a father and his child. A long purple tongue wiggled side to side as the beak slowly opened. Oh fuck no.

  Everyone seemed afraid, nervous, pissed, or a mixture of the three. A few in the cage began to whimper and Rook couldn’t help but notice the man’s burlap pants were now wet. Stay strong. Don’t let these fuckers have the satisfaction of seeing your fear. The elves were dressed similarly to the robed servants, in red leather armor lined with gold filigree lining bracers, shoulders, and full leg armor. Underneath the armor was a golden set of chainmail.

  “People of Ollar. Hear me now, the great hunt will begin on the first day of the summer solstice.” The leader spoke with a soft and almost bored tone. “It has come to our attention that here in Centrulia, there have been sightings of another conjured.”

  Many within the crowd murmured all around Rook, mostly hushed exclamations. Rook felt the bone-chilling fear, like he was swimming in the open ocean with a megalodon.

  “We found this garbage in the Woods of Sorrow, half a day’s travel away. When there’s one of these rats, there’s more. Our seers reported multiple Conjured, and it is your civic duty to inform the Bloodstone Empire of the Conjured, one you humans agreed to yourselves.” He held his hand up, and something coiled around his pale arm. It looked like a thin snake. Opening his palm, he let the strand uncoil until it hit the cobble. “State your name and class!” he yelled, whipping the cage with a violent snap, right in front of the tattooed man.

  “My name is Jacob! I am a dentist, and please let me go!” He screamed, shaking against the bars.

  Did that guy just bend the steel?