To my surprise, everyone in the village left their jobs and gathered in the central commons for lunch. A series of long tables stood in the grassy area, laden with food, and everyone in the village took a seat around the table. I stood back and watched, unsure of what to do, until Elder Vasily walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Come, Ionat,” he said warmly. “As our honored guest, you will sit beside me.” He led me to the center table and indicated a heavy, wooden chair two seats from the head of the table. I sat down, noticing that the chair didn’t wobble even though it was sitting on grass; looking closer, I noticed that the legs ended in flat wooden squares rather than round feet. Obviously, the furniture was meant to be used on the yielding soil, another reminder that despite their lack of technology, the people here were plenty intelligent and savvy.

Vasily sat beside me and lifted the plain, gray, metal mug that rested on the table before him, taking a long drink. I had a similar mug in front of me, so I tentatively took a sip and was a little disappointed to realize that it was just water.

“Raluca’s brew is saved for the sundown meal during close moons,” Vasily laughed, obviously seeing my discontented expression. “It helps everyone rest a little easier, even knowing that the undying or worse roam the village.”

I nodded. “That makes sense.” I took a longer drink of the water; while it wasn’t fancy, it was cool and had a slight mineral taste to it. “How do you keep the water cold?” I asked curiously.

“It’s actually an ingenious design,” he said with obvious pride. “There’s a large stream that runs deep beneath the village and waters the Darkwood Forest. We’ve designed a pump system that carries water from that stream into several aboveground spouts.” He pointed to the side, and I followed his finger to see a round wooden pillar about three feet high and six inches wide sticking up out of the ground at the edge of the commons. A metal sluice jutted from a hole near the top of one side, and a long lever stuck up from the top of the pole. Water dripped slowly from the end of the sluice, splashing onto a flat stone beneath it.

“The water runs through pipes buried deep in the ground,” he went on. “That – and the wood sheathing the spout – keeps it cool no matter the temperature outside.”

“Clever,” I agreed. “How hard is it to keep the pump system running?”

Vasily shrugged. “It’s a bit of work, but not as much as bringing up buckets from a well and lugging them into the village would be.”

“Good point.” I watched as the logging crew walked up the road and went to another of the wooden pillars, rinsing themselves off before joining the others. Emilina glanced around until she saw me, then grinned and lifted a hand in greeting. I smiled and waved back at her as she sat down with her crewmates at another table. A minute or so later, Renica walked out from behind her shed and went to a third waterspout, spending somewhat more time cleaning up than the lumberjacks had before taking one of the last open seats.

Finally, Viora exited the Altar of the Sun, and as she did, everyone rose to their feet. I scrambled to follow suit as quickly as possible, and I stood silently with everyone else as the woman moved to the head of my table. She placed her hands on the wooden surface and tilted her head back. I did the same when everyone else copied her gesture.

Once again, I could feel the warm sunlight streaming down on my face, but I sensed an even greater heat emanating from the matronly sorceress. I peeked open one eye and peered sideways at her. Her entire body was surrounded by a red-golden haze, one that I could see but at the same time was invisible. It was an odd sensation; the misty aura was perfectly clear in my mind, but when I tried to focus on it, it vanished. I could only see it when I wasn’t really trying for some reason.

“We gather beneath the high sun, one community, bound in the light and joined in the Sun’s Peace,” Viora spoke reverently but with a formal tone that suggested she’d said these words many times before. “We thank the sun for the bounty of life and light that it grants us this day, and we celebrate the ascendency of the sun over the accursed moons.”

“Blessed is the sun,” everyone murmured in unison, and I felt a sudden flare in the power gathered around the priestess.

“Let the sun’s warmth purify and sustain us all through this day and into the coming night, so we may rise to honor it once more. By the Sun’s Peace.”

“By the Sun’s Peace,” everyone echoed. As they spoke, the gathered power burst from around the woman, rolling out over the assemblage. I could see the energy sinking into each of them, but even more of the power roiled around the food and drink resting on the tables. I thought about Viora’s words and realized they weren’t just a prayer; she’d cast a spell of some kind. I had a feeling that she’d just performed a minor healing on everyone present as well as purifying the food and drink to make sure it didn’t get anyone sick. If that was true, then it explained why everyone gathered for lunch; the midday meal literally sustained the villagers.

I sat with everyone and followed along with the people around me, helping myself to a large plate of heavy, greasy meat, warm bread, some sort of greens, and a pale orange fruit that was surprisingly tart and juicy. Everyone ate in silence, concentrating on their food, and I did the same, thinking about the spell the woman had just cast. Viora had obviously gathered power from the sun high above, but that wasn’t the only source of energy she’d used. Somehow, that power was strengthened by the villagers’ prayer. It almost seemed like she’d channeled their faith into her spell; I didn’t know if that was even possible, though.

“Yes and no,” Sara replied silently. “Yes, there’s power in faith, but no, faith doesn’t generate its own power. Faith can tap into and direct existing power, though. Any strong emotion can, and faith is one of the strongest there is.”

“Emotions can tap into magical power?”

“Absolutely. A person feeling a sufficiently strong emotion can unconsciously channel magical energy, never realizing what they were doing.”

“How does that work?”

“In most Doorworlds, every sapient race can use magic in some form or fashion. The specific methods obviously vary from world to world, but generally, magical ability is latent in all sapient creatures and many sentient ones.”

“Wait, what’s the difference? Aren’t ‘sapient’ and ‘sentient’ the same thing?”

“Technically, no. A non-sentient creature responds only to direct stimulus without any awareness. A plant might follow the sun, for example, but it isn’t aware of the sun or what it’s doing. A sentient creature is aware of its surroundings and responds to indirect stimulus but isn’t aware of itself and doesn’t know why it responds the way it does. A predator hunts because that’s its nature and it’s hungry, not because it wants to hunt. A sapient creature is aware of itself and the fact that it’s unique from its environment, and it can reason and extrapolate from the sensory information it receives. A sapient hunter will hunt when it isn’t hungry to store up food for later or to share it with others, or for more esoteric reasons like safety, resources, or just because it likes to kill.”

“Gotcha.” I thought about her words. “So, it’s possible that the villagers have access to solar magic without realizing it, and their faith in Viora sent their energy her way subconsciously.”

“It’s not only possible, it’s likely. That’s one reason why almost every sapient race develops some form of religion, in fact. The priests of those religions can tap the energy provided through their congregation’s faith to do things that would otherwise be beyond their power. The head of a large church can tap into the faith-generated energy of everyone in that church, which can mean millions or billions of individuals. That’s a lot of power, and it lets them do things that would otherwise seem divine or miraculous.”

“So, how did your morning with Renica go?” Vasily spoke at last, interrupting my train of thought.

I blinked and focused, turning my thoughts away from magic and to more mundane things. “They went fine,” I said after a moment.

“That’s not particularly descriptive, Ionat. What did you bring back? Did you see signs of the peculiar aggression she was talking about? Did you scare away all her prey?”

I grinned at him. “No, fortunately I know how to move quietly when I need to.” I sent a thought to Sara, asking for help remembering names, and the AI instantly reminded me of the types of creatures we’d encountered that morning.

“Our main quarry was a cerbak,” I finally spoke. “We tracked it and brought it in successfully. The forest animals were very aggressive and attacked us frequently, but we didn’t see any sign of why they were.”

“The augury should help with that,” Viora declared, interrupting our conversation. “In fact, finish your meal, Ionat, and we’ll begin preparing.” She looked at Vasily. “I’ll summon you and Renica when we’re ready.” The old man looked a little startled, but he nodded acceptance.

I wolfed down the rest of my food and followed Viora into the Altar of the Sun, where she turned toward me with a smile.

“Forgive me for that rather rude interruption,” she said. “I knew that Vasily was about to start asking you about yourself, and I have a feeling you’d rather avoid that topic – all things considered.” She gazed meaningfully at me, and I just refrained from rolling my eyes.

“I told you, I’m not one of those Vanatori,” I reminded her.

“Of course not,” she smirked. “You just happen to be good enough at stalking prey to approach a cerbak successfully, even though those creatures have famously keen senses. Renica must be a wonderful teacher.”

I didn’t bother to argue. It actually suited my purposes that she thought I had a good reason for hiding my identity. Really, the best thing for me was for her to think I was one of these Vanatori guys without my ever telling her that. Then, if one of them came around, they couldn’t blame me – I’d denied it, after all – and if they didn’t, she’d help deflect awkward questions I didn’t yet have answers for.

Still, a thought occurred to me, and I couldn’t help but voice it. “Can’t you tell with a spell?” I asked. “Isn’t there a spell that detects truth or something like that?”

She shook her head. “It’s possible to detect falsehoods, yes, but that’s a power of lunar magic – specifically of bestial magic.” She grimaced. “Bestial magic deals with the darkest of emotions – fear, pain, rage, hunger, hatred. When a person lies, those emotions surge in them, and a practitioner of bestial magic can sense that.” She grimaced. “Of course, an accomplished liar can get around that, so nothing is foolproof.”

She turned and went to her desk, unlocking a drawer with a key and pulling out a large, heavy volume and a tan cylinder the size of two fingers. “For the augury, we’ll need to draw a magical diagram,” she said, laying the book on the altar table and flipping through it until it displayed an image of a hexagon with circles at each vertex and odd symbols written on the outside of each line.

“Why?” I asked curiously, examining the symbol.

“There are five steps to casting a spell,” the woman replied, her voice taking a lecturing tone. “The caster has to gather power, focus their intent, construct a spell-form that harnesses that intent, channel power into the spell-form, and release the spell.

“Gathering power is the most time-intensive step, but it’s usually also the easiest.” She gestured upward. “The sun’s power is limitless, but we omeni are not. We gather power using will and focus, and both of those limit not only how much power you can hold but how fast you can draw it. A powerful spell might take hours or days of meditation to call enough of the sun’s energy to power it.” She smiled and touched the altar. “Unless, of course, you have an external focus.”

“External focus?”

She nodded. “This altar is constructed of sunstone, a material that naturally gathers solar energy, with a single diamond at its heart that is a near-perfect way to store solar power. It holds that power, and I can tap it as needed to perform tasks that would normally require hours of energy gathering.”

“Like healing me?” I guessed.

“Exactly. If I’d had to meditate to gather the needed power, you’d have likely died before I finished.” She turned back to the book. “Focusing intent is much, much harder.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise. “It seems like it would be simple. If I wanted to heal someone, couldn’t I just think of them healed?”

She shook her head. “No, you couldn’t. You see, Ionat, the sun pays no attention to us and our petty, mortal existences. It grants us its power, but it doesn’t help us use it. Only our own knowledge and wisdom will aid with that.

“To heal someone, you have to know what you’re healing and how it’s supposed to function. Bones, for example, aren’t just rigid rods in our body; they’re slightly springy, hollow, and filled with vessels that produce the blood that keeps you alive. Skin is composed of multiple layers and filled with nerves, glands, blood, and hair. I had to study anatomy for years to learn enough about the body to attempt even basic healing, and then practiced healing on animals for more years until I understood the concept well enough to try it on an omeni.

“Focusing intent means deciding exactly what your spell will do and precisely how it will do it. You have to understand the effect you wish to create as completely and thoroughly as possible. Powerful casters will labor for decades to gain the knowledge needed to create a single new spell.” She touched the book again. “That’s why we use spellbooks, in fact. This book is filled with spells and spell-forms that others have already created and that we know work. The book tells you the precise intent you need to have to cast the spell – assuming you have the requisite knowledge, of course.”

She flipped the page to an elaborate, arcane diagram, one covered with odd loops and whorls and inscribed with strange symbols. “This is a visual depiction of the augury spell-form,” she said. “Once your intent is clear, you can turn it into a spell-form – again, after years of study learning how concepts translate into magical symbols, how to connect concepts to one another, and how they can be modified to provide the most precise results.” She sighed.

“For most, this is the most difficult part of casting. The omeni mind simply isn’t designed to channel magic, Ionat. Creating and holding spell-forms is alien to our thoughts, and the construction fights to escape. The more difficult the spell, the harder holding the construct becomes. Casting even simple spells is exhausting and takes focus, will, and a great deal of practice. Casting truly powerful ones can shatter lesser minds or even kill an unprepared caster.”

She shook her head. “Once the spell-form is stable, though, you can channel the power you’ve gathered into it and release it. If you’ve done anything wrong in building your spell, these steps can be deadly. An incorrect or unstable spell-form might fail when power is applied to it, and all that energy is released in a burst that is very painful, even deadly at times. Even if the spell-form holds, an incorrect spell can cause unpredictable results, affecting the wrong target or creating an unintended effect.”

She looked at me, her face serious. “Spellcasting is a dangerous occupation, Ionat, one that requires intense study and training. You aren’t going to learn to cast even the simplest light spell in a few days or weeks. At best, you’ll gain an understanding of how spellcasting works and learn how to meditate and gather energy. However, I’ll teach you all that I can while you’re with me, you have my word.”

“I can help somewhat, John,” Sara assured me. “I can help you break down an effect and even turn it into a spell-form – at least, once I’ve seen enough spell-forms to decipher how they work. However, she’s probably right that you’ll need a ton of practice to be able to actually envision and power one.”

I sighed. “That’s fine,” I said. “So, what are we doing for this augury?”

“Well, the essence of the spell is that we’re asking the sun to show us what it sees elsewhere,” she said, turning back to the book. “If it works, we’ll know what’s causing the disruption in the forest.” She opened the page to the first diagram once more. “The spell-form is very complex, though, and the diagram is an aid to my visualization. It gives me a secondary focus to pass part of the spell through, reducing the amount of effort and concentration I need to enact the spell.”

She handed me the cylindrical object, which felt like a piece of chalk. “That’s sunstone and talc,” she said. “It will help channel the energies. Now, first, we need to draw the outer hexagon…”

Drawing the diagram around the altar wasn’t easy; at least, drawing it to Viora’s exacting specifications wasn’t. Every line had to be precise, without breaks or curves, so she had me use a piece of string to ensure the sides were exactly straight. Even then, she had me erase and correct several of the lines when they weren’t quite good enough. It might have been annoying except for the fact that apparently, even a small deviation in the hexagon and surrounding figures could have catastrophic results. Considering that, I was totally fine with her insistence on near-perfection. She herself drew the arcane symbols around the periphery, and she erased and corrected her own work as often as she made me fix mine.

Once everything was complete, she placed six polished mirrors in the circles around the hexagon’s vortices, angling them all so they caught the sun’s rays and shone them directly at the stone bier of the altar. She set six sparkling crystals on the outer symbols, being careful not to smudge a single line, then sent me to fetch Vasily and Renica while she began the process of gathering power for the spell. It took me a few more minutes to find the pair, and when we returned, I stopped and stared at the altar in awe.

Viora lay atop the golden stone slab, totally nude, her tanned body glistening in the brilliant sunlight and her eyes closed. That wasn’t the sight that froze me in place, however; my vision fastened on the massive swirl of golden power surrounding her. Unlike the cloudy, chaotic haze that I normally sensed, the gathered energy revolved slowly about the altar, flowing along the lines of the diagram and moving in smoothly striated bands. Whenever the power touched a mirror, a dart of it shot out and wrapped around the Sorvaraji, whose lips moved endlessly as she muttered words I couldn’t hear or understand.

The power rose steadily, pouring out of the altar, circling the diagram, and shrouding the woman in a complex pattern I couldn’t quite make out. I stood silently, enraptured by the sight, while Vasily and Renica looked pretty much anywhere but the stone bier and didn’t utter a sound. The wave of power swelled to a crescendo, then ebbed as the last flows wrapped around Viora and filled the convoluted pattern about her. As that happened, the woman’s eyes snapped open, and she began to speak.

“Three moons in the sky, but joined as one,” she intoned hollowly, her voice unnaturally deep and gravelly. Her eyes stared at the sky, blank and unseeing, and her face was utterly expressionless. “A hunter seeks the ties that bind, shackles of silver to tame the brown. His clumsy hands cannot hold the reins of power, and the forest suffers from his carelessness. Seek the heart of the Darkwood; he hides there from the sun’s face.”

I glanced at the others; both Vasily and Renica had looks of mingled confusion and understanding. I couldn’t really relate; it was all gobbledygook to me. I opened my mouth to ask them to explain, but before I could say a word, Viora’s voice broke the silence once more.

“Beyond our woods, a greater menace gathers,” she said, and I perked up immediately. That sounded like the sort of thing that might bring someone like me to this world, after all. “A higher hand moves along with the dance of the moons, to the ruin of all. He seeks to tame the heavens themselves, placing the sun beneath his feet. His eyes turn skyward…” Her voice fell off, and her face suddenly grew alarmed.

“By the sun, he sees me!” she gasped suddenly. “His face fills with contempt, contempt for the sun and moons, for their endless procession. He reaches out…” Her eyes widened, and she suddenly screamed, her body convulsing as a wave of fiery energy exploded from her, flinging the three of us against the wall. Her screaming continued, and the power ripping from her beat at me, slamming me to the ground and holding me there on my hands and knees.

I glanced at the others, hoping that one of them had managed to evade the blast, but if anything, they were worse off than I was. Renica lay on the floor, unmoving, hopefully merely unconscious. Vasily slumped against the wall, barely managing to hold himself off the floor and struggling to keep from being smashed into the stones. I looked back at Viora; her body shook and spasmed, and red welts appeared across her skin, sizzling with the sound of burning meat.

I had to do something; I had a feeling that whatever was happening was going to prove lethal to all three of us if I didn’t stop it. I struggled to rise, but the power rushing out of the woman beat at me, pressing me into the floor with relentless fury. The harder I struggled, the more it bore down on my shoulders. It felt like trying to stand up beneath a waterfall or swim against a relentless current. In fact, that was exactly what was happening. The power rushed over me like water, crashing against me with unbearable weight, an endless stream that I couldn’t swim against.

As that thought swept through my mind, the wave of power pouring out of Viora suddenly shimmered in my vision. Rather than a blaze of energy, it twisted in my sight until it looked like what I’d imagined, a current of red-gold force surging against me. I couldn’t resist that current; it was far too powerful. Instead, I relaxed against it, not fighting the current but letting it flow around and even through me without resistance.

The power surged against my skin as I rose slowly to my feet, but it slipped past me. I wasn’t fighting the energy, and without that opposition, it seemed that the power found nothing within me to grab. I moved slowly forward, sliding between the bands of force, until I reached the edge of the hexagon. The air thickened there, trying to hold me out, but again, I refused to battle the power moving against me. I slid inexorably forward, crossing the line – and scuffing it with my boot as I did.

Instantly, the gathered power exploded outward. Energy surged through me, burning in my veins and cooking the marrow of my bones. It clawed at Vasily and Renica, and I smelled smoke and burned meat as the energy scorched them. I wanted to help them, but the fire in my blood held me in place, locking my muscles tight.

Viora’s hand suddenly moved, slapping down weakly on the altar beneath her. Instantly, the power surrounding me surged briefly, searing me from the inside out before tearing itself from my veins. The energy roared back toward the priestess, but instead of surging into her, it flooded into the stone beneath her. The golden altar flashed once as the wave of power sucked into it, then settled into a soft, golden glow that I could feel but couldn’t really see.

As the energy left me, so did the strength holding me up, and I dropped to one knee as exhaustion swept over me. I took a deep breath, feeling it shudder in my chest. Everything hurt; my bones throbbed, my muscles ached, and my nerves burned. Almost hesitantly, I glanced down at myself, expecting to see blackened and blistered flesh. To my surprise, I appeared hale and healthy, totally unharmed by the power that flooded my body.

I looked behind me and realized that Renica and Vasily couldn’t say the same. The hunter, lying on the floor as she was, escaped the brunt of the blast. The back of her shirt and pants were scorched and burned, and the pale skin beneath looked reddened and blistered. The hair on the back of her head curled in smoking tendrils only a few inches long, and the back of her neck was an angry crimson. Besides that, though, she seemed mostly unharmed, if unconscious.

Vasily hadn’t fared as well. He’d taken the burst of fire in his face and chest, and the skin there was seared and blistered. His hands were swollen and blackened, and his shirt hung from him in smoldering rags. Even as I watched, he collapsed to the floor, moaning and shivering in pain.

Viora staggered from the altar to her feet. Her own skin was red and throbbing, covered with angry welts that ran along her face, chest, and arms. She moved in obvious pain, but she staggered over to Vasily and dropped to her knees beside him. She raised a hand, touching his burned chest, and I felt a surge of power rise around her, sinking into the old man. A moment later, his moans stopped, and the worst of his burns sloughed off, revealing reddened but whole skin beneath.

A moment later, Viora’s hand dropped, and she fell back onto her haunches in obvious exhaustion. “All – I can do,” she panted, her voice hoarse and dry. “Need – altar.”

I rose slowly to my feet, shaking off my weariness. I was tired, sure, but I wasn’t anywhere nearly as badly off as the others. I crouched beside Vasily and slipped an arm beneath his shoulders, placing the other one under his knees. He moaned again as I straightened, lifting him into the air and staggering beneath his weight. For an old guy, the man was pretty solid. As tired as I was, I struggled to carry him over to the altar, but I managed to place him on it without dropping him. At least, not too hard.

“Thank you,” Viora croaked, trying to rise but failing. I moved back to her and took her upper arm, gently pulling her to her feet. I slipped that hand around her back, helping her stagger over to the altar. She fell against it, but the moment her hands touched it, I felt the power rise up and surround Vasily. I dropped to the floor and sat, my hands around my knees, utterly exhausted.

I didn’t know what had just happened, but I was pretty sure of one thing. That had not been the way that spell was supposed to go.