A wooden sled with a roof made of plain cloth hanging on four posts was slowly pulled forward along the hot sands, leaving wide trails behind it. Two large skalith marched ahead on their powerful limbs, the sun’s rays reflecting off their scaly bodies. Three people hid under the sled’s cloth from the scorching sun, which relentlessly assaulted the wooden frame, while two others walked alongside it.

  Ahead of them was another sled made of pristine white wood, a golden sun painted at its front. Its embroidered cloth tent hid whoever was riding inside. A force of armed guards encircled it from all sides in a slow march that felt religious in its solemnity.

  “This sled feels like a waste of money, A… Ren,” Wes corrected himself. He decided to walk on the sands familiar to him, feeling ill on the vehicle, his brother deciding to join him.

  “I was asked to limit my use of magic during the procession to emergencies, not money,” the adventurer posing as Ren retorted, playing with his short dark hair.

  “For one, I enjoy it,” Bar’tik chimed in. “It certainly beats walking on the dunes everywhere. It took me forever to learn how to balance myself on the sand.”

  Aren settled into a comfortable position, his mantle shaped to cover most of his body, enjoying its cooling effect. The four adventurers agreed rather quickly with the plan to disguise him as one of their members. The only one who seemed to have any reservations was Mar’tei. The two Ayru brothers eagerly accepted the honor of escorting the Luminous One, whose name he still did not know, while the berserker seemed happy enough with the chance to test himself against the assassins again.

  “Mar’tei, why don’t you work on that spell from yesterday?” Aren prompted the young mage who still seemed conflicted about the whole situation.

  “I… sure…” the young tribal woman looked at him and pulled out her notebook.

  After considering it for a while, she took out her wand and drew a two-circle formation with the practice of a combat mage. When the spell took effect, the area around her chilled, but the constant movement of the sled displaced the cold air, limiting the effect considerably. Still, she smiled when it worked and began fiddling with her notebook.

  “Proff… R… Ren,” she stumbled out, and Aren turned his head toward the younger mage. “Are you sure this disguise will be enough?”

  “I can’t maintain a constant illusion if we have to wear the black bands in cities, and this is the limit of flesh modification I’m comfortable making with vitalic spells. So unless you figure out how to circumvent the band or know of a nearby flesh mage, it will have to be enough. Still, it should be fine. My face isn’t well known outside of Vo’Teol, and I don’t think anyone would suspect an Archmage is here.”

  “I guess… that’s probably true,” she said, knowing that she herself wouldn’t assume a powerful mage to be an almighty archmage. “What about making a fake band?”

  “Wouldn’t work, I asked.” Aren’s voice turned complaining. “Apparently, some mage tried that a long time ago. Now the priests can tell the bands apart just by looking.”

  “Really? They look all the same to me,” Bar’tik commented.

  “Well, as far as I know, you honor our battle-crazy ancestors, not the sun,” Mar’tei teased.

  “Hmph,” the berserker feigned offense, then smiled. “Say, Ren, we are companions now, so it wouldn’t be weird for you to study and share your magic knowledge with Mar’tei every day. I will even allow you to study at night. It’s for my sister’s good, after all!”

  “What!” the woman in question exclaimed.

  “I don’t mind,” Aren said, not paying attention to whatever the joke was between the two siblings, then turned to the other mage. “Of course, if you agree to it.”

  “I wouldn’t dare throw away such a chance.” A slight redness appeared on her cheeks as she remembered her brother’s nonsense from last night. “But shouldn’t we focus on our mission?”

  “Actually, it should help our mission. While I doubt they have people capable of contesting me, I can’t be everywhere at once,” Aren said. “So every little bit of growth you achieve will be helpful when you need to defend yourself. I don’t want any of you dying on this mission.”

  “I see, but can we really achieve that much in such a short time?” Mar’tei asked.

  “Well, hopefully we will have some time with our delaying tactics,” Aren said. “Now, all of you tell me what you can do so I can start designing a training plan for you. While I’m not an expert in life force or ancestral worship, I know how warriors train. That includes you Lan and Wes.”

  The two brothers reacted to the call out and jumped into the sledge, Wes taking a second to balance himself. The four adventurers sat on the benches of the sledge and looked expectantly at Aren.

  “What?” Aren asked.

  “Tell us what an Archmage can do.” Lan said. “It’s only fair if we are to tell you our secrets.”

  Aren stared for a little at the warrior as he was used to receiving more respect when offering his teachings but nodded. “I can cast up to seven circle wizardries, although all of them are of my own making since I did not have access to the Archmage’s archives until two days ago. I have also mastered three sorcerous resonances, elemental, mnemonic, and sympathetic. I have started working on divinative, but it is a work in progress.”

  “Mnemonic? Sympathetic?” Lan asked, not knowing the terms.

  Mar’tei chimed in, “Mnemonic deals with spells that manipulate memories. It can be used to store and retrieve memories from one’s mana, for example. There are wizardries used to store spell formulas in what is called a mind vault for quick retrieval and use.

  “Sympathetic spells use one’s mana to force action and link it with something. They can be used to move objects or have them perform actions. Golems use it, for example. More complex animation requires a combination of both.”

  “Why’s it called sympathetic when you don’t actually sympathize with anything?” Wes asked.

  Mar’tei didn’t have an answer, so Aren stepped in. “The original meaning of the word is mutual influence or connection. When we shape mana with our will, it establishes a link between the animation and the mana itself. Were we to name it today, we would likely refer to it as animantic resonance.”

  “I feel like we shouldn’t ask more questions,” Lan said. “I’m already lost.”

  “Basically they can wave their wands and destroy things in different ways,” Bar’tik surmised with a laugh.

  “What’s the strongest spell you can cast?” Wes continued.

  “That depends on the situation, but purely offensively? I could cause a large explosion or summon a beam of thunder capable of engulfing a building and reaching hundreds of meters,” Aren said casually.

  “…Remind me not to make an enemy of you,” Lan said.

  Mar’tei looked at them with relief as they finally began to understand who they were dealing with. “Now you finally realize how amazing an archmage is. And why I keep telling you to be more respectful.”

  “You shouldn’t, though, we’re supposed to be comrades,” Aren pointed out, making her jolt slightly.

  “Still,” he continued, “can you tell me what you can do?”

  Wes started. “Well you saw me during combat but I'm a third stage chi practitioner, we learned from our father. I enhance my body by focusing on my muscles.”

  Then Lan explained his technique, “I started as a chi practitioner but well… I kept focusing on being as fast as light and it attuned into prana during practice seven years ago. Since then I have achieved the third breakthrough in my understanding.”

  Aren nodded. That was known to happen from time to time with life force practitioners. With a source of power tied so deeply to one’s mind, shifts in focus over long periods could gradually change its very nature. Chi centered on enhancing the body and strengthening weapons, and it grew in power through the expanding of its pathways and the refining of control. Prana was similar, but while it could increase physical strength, its entire nature adapted to its user. It could make weapons unnaturally sharp, burn hotter than flame, or even allow a person to merge with the shadows themselves.

  Bar’tik slapped his chest. “The berserkers of my tribe honor our ancestral spirits through battle, and they grant us power. We channel the strength of the warriors of our past and the might of the patron beasts that chose our families centuries ago when our tribe settled in our lands. My sister and I are of the boar and bear bloodline.”

  Aren accepted the explanation. He didn’t know if there was a difference between ancestral worship and ordinary worship, but he had seen the transformative effect in their last fight.

  “I see. I’ll start drafting out training plans.” Aren stood up and moved to sit beside Mar’tei, surprising her a little. “For now, I’ll focus on our mage.”

  The two Ayru warriors looked a bit skeptical that a mage would be able to train warriors but did not voice it and jumped off the cart. Meanwhile the berserker smiled and returned to watching the distant sand for any sign of danger. Aren looked over at Mar'tei, her long braided hair washed and styled after the chaos of last night. She watched him with her dark eyes glinting with expectation.

  “Right, let’s start with what kind of spells you know,” Aren said, and they went over her notebooks and books.

  “It is mostly elemental magic, with a few useful sympathetic and mnemonic spells I learned from my mom’s books. I know how to defend myself from third circle emotive magic and can find recently misplaced things with a single divination spell I bought from a traveling bookseller. I am not very good at vitalic spells, and I have not been able to afford any chronotope magic.”

  Aren smiled in understanding, since he had faced the same issues in the past and had once resorted to stealing from a mage to learn some of those secrets. “That kind is rare because it is difficult to understand without the corresponding sorcerous resonance in one’s core. Its practitioners are often the most secretive of all. Even the ones at the academy only share what is needed in the basic course and still rely on apprenticeships to pass on deeper knowledge.

  “We can go over a few if you wish, but I would like to start with your elemental magic. With a few improvements to efficiency, I believe we can increase your power significantly.”

  She nodded with contained excitement as Aren pulled out tomes from his storage space. Both of them leaned over formations and arcane definitions while Aren explained what she could do to improve the fundamentals of her spellcasting. Considering her mother had attended the academy a while ago, there was a lot of new material he needed to go over before they moved to more esoteric knowledge.

  Time passed slowly as they moved through the desert, even in early stages life practitioners and holy warriors could march for hours in the sun. Aren assumed that the Sun’s church warriors probably gained power simply from being under the sun. If he had his way they would already fly to the next stop.

  There was at least one benefit to this slog, as Mer’tei absorbed everything he taught her at lightning-quick pace. Aren smiled, there was a quiet kind of pleasure when one’s student advanced so fluidly. Now he may barely have had to do any real work since her fundamentals were solid, but the radiating joy she had on her face as she discussed magic was infectious on its own.

  As the sun started crossing the horizon, the march stopped and the preparations for setting the night camp began. Wes and Lan took charge of setting up the tents, while Mar’tei and Bar’tik took care of the two animals. Aren used his sorcery to levitate wood from the back of the sledge and started a campfire for cooking.

  “Aren’t you supposed to avoid using magic?” Wes asked.

  “This much is fine,” Aren said, not actually caring if it was fine. They were outside the city and the procession had stopped for the day, so he deemed it acceptable.

  “So nothing interesting is going to happen today?” Bar’tik wondered aloud.

  “I am satisfied enough,” Mar’tei hummed as she took the reins of one of the beasts.

  “We cannot complain either,” Wes said as his brother set long wide tent spikes in the sand. “Serving the Luminous One under one of the exemplars is a dream come true. Lan and I plan to join the church once we gain some fame.”

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  “Couldn’t you just join and work your way up?” Aren asked.

  “We tried,” Wes said. “But Lan here got us kicked out before we got initiated.”

  “I am not made for grunt work!” Lan defended himself. “Was I supposed to stay and clean the temple while there was a giant ant stampede heading for the village?”

  Wes shrugged. “Not like we did much good there. I made my peace with it, even if our mother is probably still disappointed.”

  “We bought enough time for the villagers to escape with some of their belongings," Lan said. “That barricade of yours was a good idea, Wes.”

  “They lost their homes anyway.” Wes’s shoulders slumped in solemnity as he pulled the cloth tent up.

  Aren pulled out a large pot and levitated it to hang above the campfire, then filled it with water. “That is how it is sometimes in this world. Monsters run rampant everywhere and threats are prioritized by their impact on the whole society. Small remote villages are then abandoned. I saw it happen many times once I advanced as an adventurer.”

  “In our lands, villages often stand together against larger threats,” Bar’tik joined, as Mar’tei’s gaze darkened. “We all do our part. Yet even then, it’s not always enough.”

  Aren chopped vegetables he levitated, the wind blade floating back and forth as they fell into the water. Another magic crushed cubes of dried meat into the mixture. The silence stretched a little as the water in the pot bubbled. It was hard not to know someone who had lost someone to a monster.

  While no one from his close family died to a monster attack, it was still his goal to eradicate every monster from this world. He believed magic was the only answer, as an army of golems and warriors armed with magically enhanced gear could do much more than any group of peak mortal life practitioners or holy warriors.

  Even then, they still had no way to contest the force of nature that apocalyptic beasts were. That’s why meeting one that supposedly wouldn’t obliterate him on sight was a chance he couldn’t pass up. It seemed that despite the latest setbacks, he was still on the path toward his perfect life.

  “Oh, add those to the pottage,” Bar’tik said, pulling out a pouch of spices from his pack. “Some spices from our home.”

  Aren took it, and a strong smell of herbs and berries hit his nose. He nodded and sprinkled some into the food before settling onto a wooden box, while the others sat on their own mats.

  “So what are we to do exactly,” Wes asked. “I know we are a disguise so you can be here, but won’t anyone who looks into our pasts know we never adventured together?”

  “Marie said she has contacts with the local adventurers guild. They are probably already editing the records of your adventures to include me,” Aren explained.

  “Marie?” Bar’tik asked, confused.

  “The Exemplar,” Aren clarified.

  “You are on a first name basis with the Exemplar!?” Lan’s voice was filled with surprise.

  “To her displeasure,” Aren mused as he automated a ladle to stir the pot. “I’m not going to be treated like an underling. If we are to work on this together, I think it’s better to go at this as equals. I will pretend in front of an audience, of course.”

  Wes shook his head. “Okay, but beyond being your disguise, what are we to do?”

  “Survive,” Aren said. “And if you can, take out a few of the assassins along the way.”

  “I feel disrespected,” Lan said.

  “Are you that confident you will be able to deal with everything?” Bar’tik asked.

  “If I had used magic last night, I would have been able to end the fight instantly,” Aren said, his voice unwavering, simply stating a fact. “If they hire stronger assassins, I will deal with them. No offense, but you are not at that level yet.”

  “Offense taken,” Bar’tik said. “I will have you prove it!”

  “Later,” Aren said. “Tonight I will be preparing what we need for your training.”

  “On the honor of my ancestors, I will not wait,” Bar’tik stated. “We have time before the food is ready, and this will be good exercise to work the appetite.”

  Mar’tei hid her face in her hands. “Brother, don’t anger an Ar… a mage that can blast you out of existence. I’m sorry, he is impossible sometimes.”

  “I just want him to prove worthy of acting like our superior,” the berserker stood up, air shimmering around his frame. “Let him prove that he is worthy of training us.”

  Aren looked up at the muscled warrior, then turned his head to the two Ayru warriors. “What do you think?”

  “I saw you fight and believe that an adventurer with your experience can teach us a thing or two,” Wes said. “I may have my doubts about whether you can help us advance as warriors.”

  “I didn’t see, and would gladly see a mage of your title do something magical,” Lan said. Seeing his brother’s exasperated face, he added, “What!? I want to experience it too!”

  Aren laughed. “Sure, come then, all four of you.”

  “I would rather just watch…” Mar’tei said weakly.

  “It’s a chance to see how you fight as a group. Come on, I won’t harm your fair skin,” Aren teased.

  The younger mage’s eyes widened, then she stood up straight. “I will have you know I’m not some lady you need to coddle.”

  “Ha!” Bar’tik laughed. “Finally showing your backbone, sister.”

  “We’re going to get clobbered,” she said matter-of-factly as she drew a long wand of polished bone, a clear gem set into its handle. “Still… I’m a combat mage.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Aren apologized casually. Still, he could not help himself and teased, “I will clobber you properly, lady mage.”

  “Hmph! You better, or I will be disappointed with your academy,” she smiled in response.

  The four adventurers gathered their gear when Aren cast a spell. A combination of emotive, mnemonic, and sympathetic resonances took hold on the area. To any onlooker, it would look like they were all sitting around the bobbling pot, chatting casually. Another spell hardened the sand in a large circular area away from their camp, and then he created an invisible barrier to silence any sound they made.

  The four adventurers stared at their copies with surprise in their eyes, and Aren smiled as he explained, “In case anyone is spying from far away, we wouldn’t want our enemies to learn more than they need to.”

  Mar’tei looked with amazement in her eyes at the magic when her brother called out, “Come here!” The berserker was already standing in the circle of sand with Lan and Wes.

  Aren took a stance opposite the adventurers. He needed to prove he knew enough about mortal combat to the three men. Burying them in sand or plunging them into eternal darkness would achieve nothing. He cast the same level of enhancement on his body, giving him the strength and reflexes of a fifth-stage life practitioner. Then he drew his runic sword and summoned a black blade over it using six-circle wizardry. He took a loose stance, holding his sword diagonally in front of him, one foot forward, as the spell-fed instincts took over.

  The temperature inside the ward shifted, the air thick with anticipation. The four adventurers’ instincts kicked in and their stances hardened. Bar’tik let out a deep exhale. His muscles bulged as ancestral rage bled into his veins. Thick hide enveloped his skin, his arms thickened, ending in sharp claws, and proud long tusks stretched from his mouth.

  Lan and Wes stepped forward in tandem, one lowering his stance as a golden glow radiated from his limbs and two long saif blades, the other standing tall as his muscles stretched with a green glow, his chest and limbs looking more like a sculpted block of muscle in human shape than a body with bones. Perfect synchrony between offensive power and speed, the natural rhythm of two brothers who had fought together all their lives.

  Mar’tei filled the rear, wand forward, a slight spillage of frost mana chilling the air around her as she harmonized her magic with the element. The sight of the Archmage’s magic being cast and its speed shook her, but she clenched her wand tightly.

  Bar’tik didn’t wait, couldn’t wait. With a mighty step that cracked some of the hardened sand, he charged. His speed unfit for his large body, he reached Aren in the blink of an eye, as a thick bear paw swiped downwards toward the mage’s head.

  Aren slipped sideways, vanishing from Bar’tik’s vision, barely a ripple in the air. With his imbued instincts guiding him, he slapped the berserker’s hand with the flat of his blade. The paw struck the ground, breaking it and pushing through into the sands below.

  With speed that defied physics, a blade resembling a ray of light sped toward him, aiming for his shoulder. A wall of muscles appeared behind him, blocking his escape. Aren scoffed, and with a step and shift of his body, he stared Lan directly in the eyes, grabbing his outstretched arm with his free hand, his blade blocking the man’s second saif. Twisting on his foot, he threw one brother into another, sending them flying out of the arena and into the sand.

  “You don’t need to hold back. You won’t be able to harm me,” Aren sneered at the two brothers.

  Then a spray of frost icicles, sharp enough to pierce metal, covered his entire field of vision. Mar’tei cast the spell the second he opened his mouth to speak.

  Aren analyzed the spellwork as he slapped the icicles that would hit him from the air with his weapon. His magic touched the projectiles as they passed by him, chilling his cheek slightly and swaying his mantle. The berserker, having freed himself, lunged with his tusks as the two brothers dashed back toward him.

  The ice turned in the air, growing in size, and flew spinning at the opposing mage. Mar’tei, who was preparing another spell, gaped in shock and was forced to switch to a defensive wall of ice. She yelled and jumped out of the way as her barrier fissured and split, delaying the attack for a few moments.

  Bar’tik’s giant tusks slammed into the flat of the black blade, and the sheer mass slid them across the hard sand until Aren’s feet found purchase. He was pushed toward the two Ayru warriors, a massive curved blade threatening to slam into his back while two long blades aimed to pierce his heart and lungs, his dexterity enhanced by his burning life force.

  To add to this, ice encroached onto his feet, freezing him to the spot. Aren smiled, confirming adequate teamwork. It was time to show them what a superior force could do. He let his sword float, and on its own it slapped the two long saifs aside as Aren grasped the two long tusks with his fingers. Bar’tik tried to pull back but found himself unable to move. A sudden force lifted him into the air as Aren spun, breaking through the ice with a casual twist.

  The massive berserker slammed into Wes and pushed through to Lan, tumbling the three warriors to the ground into a groaning mess. Then Aren vanished as jagged spikes of ice burst from the frozen ground, slicing through empty air.

  Mar’tei stared in shock as a black blade poked her collarbone harmlessly. “You are dead,” Aren said as her wand fell to the side.

  The berserker stood up and roared in pure rage as he charged again. Aren willed a mix of sympathetic and elemental resonance into a shape before the warrior. Bar’tik’s tusk slammed into a hardened wall of air, and he slid to the ground as the rebounding force shook his brain.

  Lan and Wes didn’t seem done and charged at him, their weapons ready. Lan tried to flank him as Wes moved to overpower him with pure force. Aren drew a five-circle spell of mnemonic and emotive resonance and the world slowed around him to a near stop, his perception of time changed.

  For the next few seconds, Aren was a blur. To the brothers, Aren moved two, three, five times at once. Every strike they threw was met with a slap to the wrist, every tactical move countered with a precise whip of air. The warriors soon collapsed to the ground, panting and bruised.

  “And this is why I will help you grow,” Aren said, his black sword vanishing as he hid the artifact inside his storage. “Let’s eat something. The food should be ready.”

  Aren walked over to the pot, retrieving a floating bowl from the air, already filled with the hearty pottage. He tasted it and mused in pleasure at the sweet and herbal flavor that filled his mouth, continuing to eat after sitting down.

  Mar’tei went over to her brother who was trying to lift himself off the ground. She touched his scalp as a combination of cooling and healing effects helped the berserker deal with the spinning world.

  “Are you satisfied now?” Mar’tei asked.

  “My ancestors… demand… a rematch,” the berserker spoke slowly as he picked himself up.

  “I feel like… my soul was beaten out of my body,” Lan said, getting to his knees.

  Wes nodded in agreement as he stretched his back. Three warriors hobbled to the campfire as the sun hid behind the horizon and the air started to chill down. Their eyes now filled with respect and glint of something else.

  “What was that black sword? It used six circles, right?” Mar’tei couldn’t help but ask as she retrieved a bowl from the air.

  “Yes,” Aren said between gulps. “It’s a spell made by a magic swordsman who was a member of the academy a long time ago. It combines mnemonic, sympathetic, and emotive elements to access all users’ memories of swordsmanship, giving them access to every fighting instinct they ever had at once.

  “I cheat a little, though. The artifact blade I pulled out is a runic defense sword programmed to defend the user at the expenditure of mana. I added an additional link to the spell that connects me with the blade and transfers its programming to me. On top of that, the black blade can cut through arcane defenses.”

  “That’s a unique and complex spell,” she concluded.

  “Well, to most mages, it is only a curiosity. Very few can combine martial prowess and arcane knowledge well. The difficulty of casting spells fluidly during the exchange of blades limits casting options a lot,” Aren explained. “I learned it out of pride. Once I started losing too often when sparring with my friends, I began looking for enhancement spells and things like this. Although I only got my hands on this particular spell after joining the academy.”

  “Hah… cough, I learned that mages can be strong warriors too,” Lan coughed as he ate his food slowly.

  “Indeed,” Wes affirmed.

  “So, when are we doing this again?” asked Bar’tik.

  “I will think of something appropriate to challenge you with next time, to stimulate your growth properly,” Aren said. “For now, rest a bit.”

  “Aren’t we stopping for the night?” Wes asked.

  “I have something planned,” Aren said. “Meet me in a few hours.”

  The adventurers looked at him with interest, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he cast a detection ward and headed to the tent to prepare. Spell books floated out of his storage and he started configuring a spell to his needs.

  Hours passed as he scribbled, and when he was finally done, he went outside to find Wes sitting alone by the campfire.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake. Can you wake the others? I’m ready. Tell them to take their things with them.”

  “I’m keeping watch…”

  Aren stared at him for a second. “…I forgot to mention I set up a detection ward around the camp.”

  Wes stared at him with a betrayed look but went to wake the rest of the party as Aren headed back inside. Five clay figures stood in front of him, ready for his spell to shape once provided with the necessary reagent. When the four adventurers joined him in their gear, they looked at him with questions in their eyes.

  “Good, you’re here,” he said. “I need a bit of your body. Hair, blood, saliva, or a nail will do.”

  “What?” Mar’tei asked, still half awake, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

  “I’m making substitutes for us,” Aren said, pointing at the golems. “We are leaving, and those will pretend to be us for the next few days before they reach the next city.”

  “We can’t abandon our mission!” Wes shouted.

  “I already discussed this with Marie. Don’t worry,” Aren exclaimed calmly.

  “Are we creating a diversion?” Lan asked.

  “Yes,” Aren said. “Now place a bit of your bodily material in the clay figures, please.”

  Lan shrugged and walked over to one of the sculptures and spit on it. As soon as he did, the fluid was absorbed, and it started to morph. Its outer shape changed to dark skin as hair grew on one side of its head. The warrior took a step back, staring directly into his reflection.

  “I’m quite handsome, aren’t I?” Lan commented, scratching his chin.

  “Keep dreaming, brother,” Wes said, doing the same to another figure.

  Soon five reflections stood in the corner of the tent, only Mar’tei and Aren choosing to use their hair instead of treating this like spitting content. Then, with practiced precision and efficiency, he cast a five-circle spell on each doll, and they came to life, moving to their respective tents and pretending to sleep. Mar’tei watched with a sparkle in her eyes, trying her best to remember each part of the formation.

  “Now they will pretend to be us for the next few days,” Aren said. “And since the procession outside is ordered not to talk to us, they won’t be discovered for quite a while unless there is an attack.”

  “Wait, was that why no one talked to me when I approached?” Lan exclaimed. “I thought they hated us because of both of your magics.”

  “I think they hate us for that anyway,” Wes chimed in. “So how are we going to sneak away unnoticed?”

  “With this,” Aren said as his wand moved once again. This time, he created a six-circle wizardry, pulled out a gem from his pocket, and threw it into the spell.

  As soon as the object connected, a wide portal of inky blackness appeared, and Aren nodded. He stepped through it, and the four adventurers heard a voice from beyond the veil, “Follow me.”

  The three warriors watched each other, trepidation in their eyes. Aren saw one of them step through the portal and instantly find herself on cold sand. She seemed aware she was somewhere else, the dunes on the horizon looking different, though it was hard to distinguish places in the desert. Soon, three more confused figures appeared from behind her.

  “Good, you’re here,” the exemplar Mar’tei said with a scowl, throwing them out of their stupor. “We are going to travel through the night, so get ready.”