Sizilen had laid her drawings across the table. For the past several hours, she had been hard at work with her drawings. She’d worked through six pieces of the king’s fine parchment before Borou had shown her to a desk inside the Outworlder building in which something that surprised her greatly had been discovered.

A stack of paper of quality she’d never before witnessed. They were white and immaculately smooth. Any imperfections they might have contained were so small that Sizilen couldn’t even notice. Compared to the fine parchments provided to her by the King’s supplier, they were immaculate.

She’d been gifted with two dozen of the finest parchments ever made, a collection worth upwards of ten full-weights of gold, that a bandit would have slit her throat for.

And on the desk of an Outworlder was a carelessly-placed stack of hundreds of perfectly-cut pieces of paper that mocked the quality of Embrayya’s finest.

Not to mention the implements. They had ink pens, and wooden sticks with thin tubes of some material that acted like charcoal in them. She experimented with them, but they didn’t last long before the tip became so worn she had to give it up. She stuck to her tried and tested charcoal.

But it was more than that. The immaculately transparent glass they used in their windows, the strange panels on the wall with switches that controlled the lights, the music she heard from the strange Outworlder device.

And the near-complete lack of any sort of sword or dagger. The Outworlders had things of such value, and no weapons with which to prevent their theft.

But then, she thought of the weapons used by the Outworlder constables. Borou had her draw both of the weapons as best she could, as well as the bits of metal that had been pulled out of the Embrayyan men they had killed. Even Borou seemed bothered by the quality of the metal in the weapons, and appeared obsessed with figuring out how they worked. Sizilen was no engineer, but to fire bits of metal at such speeds rivaled the ability of the Elder Law her sister had given her life for.

Sizilen had been told there was no Elder Law in Outworld. But the fact that they had things that could meet it on even ground bothered her deeply.

The weapons, along with a number of other objects of Outworlder invention, had been moved back into Embrayya some time ago. Borou had chosen out several things of interest for the King’s engineers to ponder over, including the constable’s vehicle-- that was odd. None of the other vehicles would move when pushed, except for that one. Something was different about it.

But the truth was that it all unsettled her. The fantastic devices of the Outworlders, the opening of the World Tree, the twinning of the Seed of Vaste’lon, the summoning of the void and its cost to her. All for what? A title that was so meaningless to her? All so that she may revoke it in exchange for protection during an expedition into the Wasted Lands to undo a mistake that should never have been made? To take back a father who would likely hate her, not merely for allowing her sister to give her life for him, but for being foolish enough in the first place to attempt his rescue? Not to mention the part she played in his capture, which she felt great shame for.

But it was her path now, and she needed only to take it a step at a time. Do as Borou asks. Draw his pictures. Keep the King informed, then trade it all in for ten thousand men to march into the Wasted Lands to rescue a single old man taken by the demons.

Borou thought the notion foolish. “A rescue for a corpse,” he’d called it. A part of Sizilen wondered if he was right-- but she doubted it. Even a year later, Emrys Oringard would be far too valuable to the demons while drawing breath. Regardless, the attempt would be made.

A sudden vibration struck her out of her rumination. The walls around her shook, and the window wobbled as though struck by something. It was followed by three more before she quickly got up and gathered her drawings and put them into her satchel. Something was happening.

She left the desk and walked out into the Outworlder’s storehouse in time to see a man run past her holding the First King’s horn. He stood at the entrance and blew it. Sizilen’s heart fell. That horn would only sound in the case of an attack.

She walked to one of the open doorways and looked out toward the encampment. It was covered in white smoke so thick she couldn’t see within it. She looked on in awe and confusion for a moment until a low whistling sound caught her attention, and saw something strike the ground not thirty paces from her. She felt small pebbles hit her face and she turned away just as white smoke billowed out from the impact, spreading rapidly.

“The Outworlders attack!” Borou suddenly shouted from behind her. “Riders! Archers! Infantry! A bottle of beer for every Outworlder head!” he exclaimed. Sizilen looked back at him just as soldiers began to run past her out into the fray, weapons drawn.

“Where are they?” Sizilen asked him. “Are they attacking from the sky?”

Borou stood next to her and looked outside in awe. “Naia’s tits!” he exclaimed. “What madness is this?”

Suddenly, she heard two sharp pops from the other end of the storehouse. It drew the attention of Borou as well, and they both looked just in time to see two guardsmen writhing on the ground. A third went over to investigate, and soon he, too, fell to the ground after another sharp sound.

Sizilen recognized it. It was the sound the weapons held by the Outworlder constables had made.

She then heard the same noise from the northern entrance to the storehouse, and the yell of surprise from the guards stationed there.

Borou took a step back, then looked over his shoulder to the encampment. It was in utter chaos. Sizilen could hear the clash of swords-- but saw no Outworlders in the fray. Were the men fighting each other?

“This is madness,” Borou exclaimed. “How are they doing this?”

Sizilen looked to the World Tree. It was partially obscured by the smoke, but it was a straight path-- perhaps three hundred paces. “General, we need to get back through the World Tree,” she said.

Borou looked at her, his face twisted up in anger. “Embrayyans do not retreat, girl!”

As if to respond to him, a loud growl erupted from the sky above the encampment, just as a large beast flew overhead. Sizilen got a good look at it-- it was dark, but easily larger than a Wyvern, and it growled angrily as it moved from the sky, seemingly without wings. Its shape was similar to that of a dragonfly, but-- it was no beast. Not an animal. It was like the strange Outworlder vehicles-- it was a machine. Powered by itself.

Borou’s face was white as he spied it. “By the Graces of the gods,” he said. He watched in mute horror as it was followed by three others.

One of them bore down on two Empyrean Riders in the distance, and even Sizilen was shocked into silence as she witnessed one of them loose a flaming arrow at one of them, causing both rider and mount to explode into a mist while what was left of them fell to the ground.

Eventually, Borou snapped out of his shock and looked to Sizilen. “Go,” he said. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “To the World Tree! Retreat!”

As she ran, Sizilen noticed only few had heard the General. Most others were still in the process of attempting to find out what was happening. The blindness caused by the thick white smoke and the noises coming from every which direction was too much.

“Retreat!” Borou yelled into the smoke. “All men retreat! Regroup in Embrayya!”

Sizilen also yelled. “The World Tree! We have to get out of here!” She ran clutching her satchel, weaving around men still in the throes of confusion and other obstacles. At one point she tripped over a man on the ground. From behind her, she could hear more of the telltale pops of the Outworlder weapons. They were becoming more common, and yet not once had she actually seen any of the Outworlders. Were they invisible?

Were they even human?

She heard the strange flying machines growling overhead, and the yells of terror from the men. Her own heart was beating so fast she could barely catch her breath.

Suddenly, she realized she couldn’t see the sky. The smoke was too thick. Was she even heading in the right direction? Was she wandering away from the World Tree?

Borou suddenly caught her by the shoulder, then pointed to a dark patch in the smoke above-- the canopy of the World Tree was still visible through the contrast. The sky was beginning to darken, but it was still bright enough to make out.

A soldier suddenly fell down past her, laying face-down on the ground just as the pop of another Outworlder weapon went off. Borou ran ahead, pulling her behind him. “Come girl!”

Finally they burst out of the smoke, and before them a column of soldiers were running up into the World Tree. There was no order to it. It was utter chaos, and they all wore looks of terror on their faces.

They were so close. Only a few more steps, and she would be back in Embrayya.

Then she heard a pop ring out from behind her, and felt a sharp pain in her back that made her weak in the knees. Her heart skipped a beat as her breath left her body entirely.

She landed face-first on the first root of the World Tree. She’d been hit. She gasped for breath, but it wouldn’t come. She couldn’t move her arms.

Ahead of her, General Borou stared at her with wide eyes. He hesitated, then scanned the area around them. He stepped down toward her and put his hand on her back.

“Sorry, child. I can’t go back empty-handed,” he said, then cut the leather strap on her satchel, pulling it away. Without looking at her in the eye once, he turned and didn’t hesitate to run into the portal.

Sizilen finally caught her breath and her vision cleared. She struggled to move her arms until she flipped over onto her back and looked down to see they were bound to her torso with a thin rope of some bright yellow material. She looked up through the smoke and saw a shape coming toward her.

“No!” she yelled. “Get away!” She scrambled to find purchase with her legs, but every time she had a grip, her foot slipped away. The lumbering shape came closer. It was tall, clad in a suit of various shades of grey and black. It’s head was adorned with a helmet and its eyes covered with a strange mask in which she could see the reflection of the portal. Its face was covered by some sort of fabric. It held something that appeared similar to the weapon Borou was obsessed with.

Her last thought as it reached out toward her was of her father.