Shocked and horrified, Jack was about to step back and check on his father when his eyes once more caught sight of the captivating rune.

He felt a curious tingle along his spine, felt the hairs stand up in the back of his neck as his fingers gently traced the line of chalky paste and bile that had been used to write the strange rune upon the creature’s abdomen.

Struck with a sudden flash of insight, somehow tasting the odd flow of intent and arcane energy that had gone into forging that rune, eyes widening with unbidden knowledge.

Chalk, bile, and exotic mushrooms, including several his father had shown him as part of his foraging exercises, could be used in making the paste upon the creature’s belly, all of which he could taste with the briefest flicks of his tongue after making sure his foe was well and truly dead.

But such was not the only way to make a rune. Somehow he knew this to be true.

He felt a shiver of wonder race up and down his spine when his hands began to move of their own accord. Or perhaps it was as if he was recalling the steps to a dance he had forgotten long, long ago. Yet on some level he could still capture the feel of that forgotten beat, that lost rhythm. But only if he didn't over analyze it. Only if he allowed himself to get lost in the flow.

So he took slow measured breaths as he slipped into a waking trance, watching as he pricked his own thumb, tracing the obscuring rune painted on his enemy’s chest, somehow feeling the ebb and flow of magic resonating from that circuit of power.

“What my foe sought to hide, I now see. What my foe sought to keep hidden in fog is now clear before me. I claim this rune as my own, and dare its forger to face me!” With those words, Jack both an odd exultation and a crushing weight as if someone was wrestling for his very soul.

Contest of Wills Engaged!

Jack fell to his knees as his father raced to his side. “Jack, what happened? Jack! What are you doing?”

But he couldn’t say a word as he spasmed on the ground, flooded with exhilaration that quickly transformed terror as he stood on the cusp of grasping ahold of a dark wonderful secret, before realizing he was fighting for his very mind.

One predator facing another through foggy mists of spirit and magic. And Jack wanted to howl at the heavens above, feeling an unfamiliar strength now flooding his body and soul with the pounding of his heart, as terror turned to righteous fury once more.

A howl that was answered with a snarl and growl through the cloying mists before him.

Then the fog burned away before their killing intent, revealing two wolves, one white as moonlight, the other dark as pitch with eyes of crimson flame facing each other across a moonlit plain.

As one they charged, and Jack roared as time seemed to slow, pushing aside his killing frenzy just enough to use his brain and recall all the martial lessons his father had taught him, lessons of feinting and grappling and balance that transcended any particular shape of form. Of course there was no way such lessons would account for a battle between wolves of the spirit, but all he had to do was let his mind visualize what his father would do as an alpha wolf charging his foe, and now it was Jack darting underneath snapping fangs before jerking his maw up, gripping his foe’s throat in his own as he arched back as if he were grappling his father once more, only now his fangs held his foe with a grip as strong as rage, as hate, as magic-laden steel.

And no matter how his foe bucked and howled, back paws tearing blood rivulets into Jack's fur, he refused to let go.

He clenched all the tighter, the pain fueling him to clamp with every bit of his force and fury.

“The rune is mine. I will not yield!

I will know my foe by the marks upon his flesh.

By the scars upon his soul!”

Until at last his foe faded away with a howl, Jack’s jaws clamped upon the tuft of fur that represented a dark mage’s forbidden knowledge.

Now his own.

Congratulations! You have bested a Runeforger in your first Contest of Wills, pitting your very soul for forbidden knowledge. You have achieved a Permanent +1 to Willpower! (Best not to even think about what could have happened if your opponent had bested you!) You have gained basic familiarity with Runeforging.

The Runeforger class is now open to you!

You have successfully learned the rune Obscuro! This rune will cloak the recipient object in a veil of obfuscation few will be able to pierce.

You have successfully deduced the art of Bloodrunes! Such runes require no expensive components and are significantly more potent than basic runes. But you’re forcing a portion of your own essence (experience point expenditure) within each rune you forge!

You have achieved Novice Rank 1 in Runeforging.

“Jack, talk to me!”

But Jack dared not lose focus for even a second, determined to hold tight to his flash of inspiration.

Shaky hands unstrapped his dagger, pricked thumb still leaking blood pressed against the back of the fine leather sheath, slowly, carefully transcribing that rune once more, letting it blaze in his mind’s eye, never to be forgotten.

Congratulations! You have successfully transcribed your first bloodrune! Experience spent! Your sheath and the blade it holds are now all but invisible to even the most discerning gazes. You have expended a tiny portion of your life force in the forging of this rune. Benefits doubled! It is unlikely that anyone save another rune master would even think to look twice!

Jack flashed a feral grin as his knees gave out, struck by a sudden wave of dizziness. He didn’t feel weak so much as lighter, sensing a portion of the experience he had earned fighting goblins had been expended in the forging of his rune.

But only a portion.

And after all the hours he had spent learning basic skills by his father’s side so far that day, itself at a pace far more rapid than anyone save a genius or savant could learn in the life he had left behind, the fact that he had imprinted what could only be a magical skill in a matter of moments was nothing short of incredible.

And foolhearty, he realized, only now comprehending the fact that he had gambled with his very soul, tearing that prized bit of lore free of his enemy’s grasp. And how exactly he had done that and what exactly the ramifications were, he wasn’t really sure.

Fortunately, only seconds had past in real time since the goblin’s death. Time enough for his father to grow alarmed at his son’s odd fugue, but no more than that.

He quickly turned, flashing his anxious father a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, dad. I’m alright.”

His father’s concerned gaze met his own. “Jack. How do you know their language? And what exactly did you do?” He squinted, eyes tearing at the sight of the sheath Jack quickly put back on, sigil facing Jack's hip and thus hidden, which dampened the power slightly but also meant that anyone who could see through it wouldn’t see the sigil itself, just a completely unremarkable sheathed knife.

Jack held his father’s gaze. “Someone betrayed us, Father. Someone betrayed this town.”

His father’s gentle gaze hardened to that of a commander. “Then we have to take steps. Immediately.”

Jack nodded. “The important thing is we killed the scouts. All four of them. Fang, the name of the one I interrogated, swore there were no others, which matches what you said about no more than a quartet working together at a time. But what’s especially interesting is what he said about how he got here.”

“And just how did they break through our town’s ward?”

“Wagons, dad. They said they came by wagon. That the wagon only had room for 4 occupants. Supposedly his tribe wants to reclaim these lands as their own, and they struck a deal with a human who’s willing to aid them in return for gold, slaves, and the right to trade and travel through their lands. Whether or not he was lying about the number, I don’t think he was about how he got here. He seemed in far too much pain and not that bright to begin with, to manufacture a tale like that wholecloth.

His father nodded. “I think you’re right, son,” he said, before clapping Jack in a fierce hug. “And damn but I’m proud of you, boy. What you did for me, what you did for this town this day proves you to be a man any father would be proud to claim as his own.”

A flood of emotions welled up in Jack as his father stepped back, nodding in warm approval, eyes filled with love and respect in equal measure.

“Thank you, dad. I can’t tell you what it means to me, to hear those words from you.”

He frowned, turning back to gaze at the corpse at his feet before peering back at the forest, feeling a sudden shiver of insight. Recalling wisps of memories that seemed more half-forgotten dream than real. And somehow, he was oddly certain that had he asked his father about his wandering thoughts on any other day when the forest wasn't shrouded in morning mist, when the morning light didn't feel so alive with possibility, his query would be laughed off as faerie tales and an overactive imagination.

But today? Today, he was oddly certain he'd find truth in any town legend he dared to pursue.

And that thought alone filled him with an odd sense of wonder and horror both. As if he stood upon the precipice of reality and dream, the rigid certainties of his life now no more real than fog.

A prudent lad would head back to town at that very moment, somehow knowing normalcy would snap back into place the moment he arrived. But for those who reveled in the odd chill racing down their spines as they dared the unknown...

“Dad. Isn’t there an old hermit who lives in the woods? Has a way with the forest or some such? Do you think maybe we should let him know what’s going on?”

For just a moment, his father furrowed his brow, gazing oddly at him, before shaking his head, blinking as if in sudden recollection. "I... you're right! Good call, son. I had completely forgotten about old Eltier, somehow. I swear, that man knows these woods like no one else. The stories about his adventures as a youth are almost as good as fireside faerie tales! And once we explain what’s going on and show him the odd sigil you say they're using to cloak themselves, he’ll be able to use his friends to track down our foes far better than the mayor or the constable could hope to.”

Jack nodded, relieved to think they’d soon have an expert who could keep an eye on the woodlands surrounding their tiny community even after he was long gone.

They quickly made their way back into the forest, Jack finding himself racing along trails he knew he had never stumbled across before, for all that he now recalled so clearly wandering them as a small boy, before stumbling into a clearing made up of a single massive chestnut tree. Or perhaps it was a knot of chestnut trees somehow woven together, the lush arching canopy all but pushing nearby trees away, yet letting in just enough shafts of golden sunlight to warm an exotic collection of flowering flowering plants, herbs, and mushrooms on either side of the path he and his father took leading right to a small arched door perfectly placed between the roots and trunks of that massive knot of trees.

Jack frowned, not seeing any door handle. But before even he or his father could think to knock, the door was abruptly opened, revealing 3 and a half feet of scowling gnome.

Jack blinked at the hobbit-like man with his head of curly golden hair, dressed in supple looking leathers as exquisitely made as any he had ever seen in either world, sporting a golden beard and a pot of ale from which he took a deep draft.

“Neither of you seem lost nor injured, and the sun’s at its peak, so you have plenty of hours left before you need fear this eldritch forest at night. Why are you troubling me, Evergreens?”

Jack’s father smiled, not at all offended by the brusqueness. “Pardon, elder. We mean no intrusion, and our arrows have never touched a sacred silver beast. Only common hare and deer do we hunt, fulfilling the roles other predators once filled before we claimed this land as our own.”

The man gave a grudging nod. “This, I know. I begrudge you not the game you catch to feed your kin, though I see no dressed kills on you, and you both have the look of men recently embracing a wild hunt… or battle.”

Jack’s father wasted no more words.

“Goblin scouts have penetrated our valley’s wards.”

The gnome’s features took on a sickly pallor. “Gods mercy.”

“Don’t worry, Sir Eltier. The scouts are dead,” Jack interjected with a certain measure of pride.

The tiny druid furrowed his brow before giving a slow nod. “You’re James’s youngest. Jack, right? I found you once as a small boy, lost in the woods, sending you home only after filling your belly with soup.”

Jack smiled at the warm memory he now recalled so clearly, remembering soft words and a gentle smile and a belly filled with warm hot food before being led by a man no taller than him back home by a route he never could replicate, Jack’s tearful mother having showered the tiny man with gratitude and a bag of food he graciously accepted.

“I remember. Mother had nothing but praise for the man of the woods after that day. And she would always leave fresh loaves of bread out by the edge of the forest with each new moon in memory of your deed.”

His father chuckled. “I never could talk her out of that silliness. Ah well. At least the deer were fatter for it.”

The druid grinned. “And your mother’s sourdough is something I look forward to every month. Tell your mother I said she’s a fine baker before you leave these lands forever, will you, boy?”

Jack blinked. “Wait, so you knew about… even though we could never find your hut? And you can tell that...”

“You’re on the cusp of blossoming into manhood? Of course, boy. And these woods are my own. Of course I know when offerings are being made. As for my hut… you found it, didn’t you? Your father always did have a knack of going where he was needed.” He tilted his head, gazing intently at Jack. “And I suspect you’ve inherited that knack as well. And that’s not all, is it boy?”

Jack flushed, lowering his gaze.

“I can taste the weight of it about you, boy. This day… tell me true. Does it feel somewhat like both the last day of your life and the first?”

Worldlessly, Jack nodded.

The druid sighed.

“And I’m guessing things are clicking for you in ways they never have before. Don’t deny it, I can see it in your eyes, boy. I think we both know you won’t be coming back, though this town does owe you, you and your father both, for taking out those goblins. “

Slowly, Jack removed his dagger and sheath, turning it over so the curious druid could gaze at the blood sigil on the back.

The gnome squinted his watering eyes before suddenly hissing. “That’s a blood rune. A rune of hiding! How did you come in possession of this, boy?”

“It’s called Obscuro, I think,” Jack said. “It was on the chest of the goblin we took down.” He quickly recounted the goblin’s confession, drawing a plain chalk version of the rune he was careful to put no trace of power into.

“To think, one of our own kind would dare betray us! It is good you struck down that vermin that not even the forest will claim. I will keep my awareness attuned to that rune and the goblins that might bare it. Rest assured, should I sense any in my forest, they shall be struck dead by hoof and horn, tooth and claw, long before they can complete even a single one of their foul rituals! They have no place in the natural order of things. They give nothing, only take, leaving burnt mounds of ash where primeval woodlands once flourished for centuries, knowing only the most primitive farming techniques, and always hungry for fresh land to ravage.”

He peered thoughtfully up at Jack. “And you, lad, most definitely deserve a boon. With your father’s permission...”

His father smiled and nodded. “By all means, whatever boon you would give my son, I would be grateful for.”

“Then it’s settled. You go warn the village proper, James. I know you know how to be discrete. At the very least, we’ll know better than to allow any wagons within these lands ever again without a thorough inspection. And if we’re lucky, we’ll catch the black-hearted traitor while we’re at it. But I wouldn’t count those eggs before they hatch.”

He turned to a bemused Jack, surprised by how readily his father agreed to leave him in a stranger’s care.

As if reading his mind, his father turned and caught his gaze. “You’re a man now, son, as you’ve proven this very day. It’s time for you to make a man’s choices. Good Eltier’s offered to teach you whatever lore you can learn in the time it takes me to warn the mayor and arrange what precautions we can.” He flashed a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, It’s still an hour before midday, despite the forest gloom. We have plenty of time before the afternoon celebrations begin in earnest. Perhaps time enough to make some mercantile contacts after all.” His gaze hardened. “And time enough, perhaps, for us all to find out who the traitor might be.”

Without another word his father left, Jack turning to the smiling gnome, leading Jack back outside, pointing to his garden. “Do you like my garden?”

“It’s as impressive a collection of herbs and flowers as I’ve ever seen,” Jack said truthfully. “Mother can’t get her own blossoms to grow half so well. And though I recognize a few of the herbs and mushrooms from the kitchen table and foraging with Father, most are beyond me.”

The gnome smiled. “It’s good that you don’t think you know everything. Leaves you more room to grow! Now pay attention, boy, I have a lot to teach, and we have only a little bit of time.”

He bent over a cluster of green-leafed plants giving off a delightful scent that made Jack think of the gritty material his family used for toothpaste every night before bed, applied with with tiny horse-hair brushes. Their neighbors thought his mother’s customs eccentric, but at least everyone in Jack’s family had nice smelling breath and all their teeth.

“This plant here is peppermint. Good for belly cramps and sea sickness and flavoring for the mouth paste anyone with a lick of sense uses while courting, at least. Now, these purple bell-like blossoms over here belong to the foxglove plant. Very good for a weak heart, but best used only under the care of a physician, apothecary, or healer. Also a key component in mana-infused healing potions.”

He then pointed to another cluster of leafy plants growing with such vibrancy Jack thought they might take over the garden entire. “And basil, besides being wonderful in stews, also strengthens your resistance to infection and reduces swelling. You do want to keep an eye and it, though, lest it try to take over your garden like a weed.” He glared at the vibrant cluster of plants that seemed almost to wilt under his gaze. “Fortunately, my plants know better. Now over here, lad. Pluck a few leaves from this plant, and you can make a Chamomile tea that’s wonderful for clear skin and a good night’s sleep...” and on and on the gnome went, explaining the herbal properties of each and every plant within his garden.

Jack took it all in, both awed and chilled by the strange experience, somehow certain the lessons he was learning would stay with him for a lifetimes. It was as if Jack could feel the echo of the man’s gentle lecture whispered from the lips of an elder sage twice the gnome’s height, and in the soft husky voice of a beautiful doe-eyed girl speaking in a sibilant tongue while holding his hand, his mentor and lover both.

In a lives he had lived, long ago.

Congratulations! You have achieved Novice Rank 3 in Basic Herbalism. Your intense focus and discipline has helped to unlock another facet of your unlimited potential! Scholarship Permanently Increased by one!

The gnome frowned when he saw Jack standing stock still, trembling slightly.

“Is everything all right, boy? Never mind. As long as your eyes are closed, tell me. Can you see them?”

Jack shook away the strange flood of feelings washing through him, not knowing if it was wonder, joy, or horror that he was feeling at that moment. “I’m sorry, Sir Druid? What should I be seeing?”

The gnome snorted. “If you have to ask, there’s no point in my answering.”

But Jack was already lurching forward, stumbling to the warm crimson light he saw just ahead. “Watch my Dandelions, boy!”

Carefully stepping over the gentle waves of soft green, bending down to peer down at the tiny cluster of red and purple blossoms glowing so brightly in his mind’s eye.

But when he opened his eyes again, he saw nothing.

Just leaves and loam upon the forest floor.

“Good!” Enthused the gnome, the momentary disappointment gone from his voice as if it had never been. “That’s the first step. You can see them! There’s hope for you yet, boy! But you can’t see them now, can you?”

Jack shook his head.

“Of course you can’t. They're both here and not here. Of this world, yet growing in a dimension of pure, wondrous magic, all at the same time! Now reach down and feel with your hand. Do you feel anything?”

He frowned, crouched down and brushed the soil with his fingertips. He had thought he had felt a slight caress of petals against his hand but… “Not really," he admitted.

“Alright, lad, good. You’re being honest with me. Now. Close your eyes again. Do you see the shimmering sea of colors before you?”

“I see Purple and Red,” he admitted.

“That’s all? Hmmph. Oh well, that’s something, at least. You’re not entirely hopeless.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Now concentrate on them with every last iota of your intent. Visualize every petal upon their stalks as they wave in a breeze you can never quite feel. Imagine the tonal ring of bell-like blossoms caressing the air with a symphony of sound, a heavenly display of music and color before you.”

Jack frowned, not sure what to expect, but did his best to follow the gnome's instructions. And it was all he could do not to open his eyes in wonder when the colorful blobs suddenly sharpened into the fuzzy outline of flowers behind his closed lids. Purple and Red were in evidence; blue, white and golden blossoms he could now spot as well, though those were few and far between.

And then his perception clarified with a superluminal sharpness that felt utterly surreal. Almost as if he were gazing close up using a hyper-realistic graphics enhancer for his interface helm, able to make out every furrow, vein, and ridge in every single leaf catching his notice, spotting every drop of dew shimmering in the light of not one but two suns, every fleck of pollen and the tiny hairs that anchored such now visible upon each and every exquisite petal.

The sight was too much for Jack, opening his eyes in shock and wonder.

Before falling to his rump, squashing flowers, unable to believe his eyes.

For now, even with his eyes open and the entire garden once more visible, he still saw that patch of flowers in perfect superluminous detail, as if glowing with the light of an additional sun still. And how strange it was to see those blossoms so clearly, every other mundane plant limited by what he now realized was his own limited and slightly fuzzy vision.

Congratulations! You have learned the skill Magesight! Now your eyes can catch the light of arcane suns impossibly distant, and just a flower bed away!

“Get off my flowers, boy!”

A dizzy Jack immediately lurched back to his feet.

Finesse Check made!

Catching himself before he fell over yet again.

The gnome gave a rueful shake of his head. “Well, I guess you’re not completely worthless after all, boy. I want you to harvest two, and no more than two, Crimson Blossoms and one Violetbell. Do you think you can do that?”

Druid Eltier has offered you a basic gathering quest. Do you choose to accept? Y/N…

You have chosen Yes! Return to Druid Eltier once you have gathered 2 Crimson Blossoms & 1 Violetbell Blossom!

Jack grinned back at the druid. “This is wonderful! It’s like I’m looking into an entirely different world!”

“That’s because you are."

Jack blinked. “Really.”

“Really. Now go get me those flowers.”

And Jack bent down to pluck his prizes, frowning as his hand seemed to slip right over/under/through the plant. The very sight made his guts knot in strange discomfort.

“No, boy! You can’t pluck things from one world to another. You have to step into the flower bed, then come back out. But mind the bees!”

A bemused jack tried to do just that, earning a laugh when he stumbled over, frustrated for some moments trying to figure out how to do more than just see the incredibly detailed vision of a magical flower bed he faced, before finally figuring it out.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and crossed the barrier.

Congratulations! You have successfully crossed your first Intradimensional Barrier! Objects recovered in Regio have innate magical properties of particular interest to alchemists and artificiers of all disciplines. You will find your spells to be a bit more potent, and physical attacks much less so, while exploring these magical realms. Congratulations on taking your first step on a journey of a thousand legends, where crossing the barriers between mundus and the magical planes immediately overlapping it is only the beginning!

Planewalker Novice Rank 1 Achieved!