“Just my luck one of you mana-hungry cretins would be around,” Sorynel lashed her catalyst like a whip and mana flew from it, forming rapidly into a sword. Rather than flashing about unsteadily like when she summoned the hammer, this time her weapon solidified into a glistening blue steel.

She took her stance before the monstrosity even had a chance to approach, and shot forward like a rocket toward it. “Goddamn priests!” she yelled in her rage as she lunged.

The monstrosity creaked and moved in jagged motions, and shrieked all the while. It glimmered with the same energy waves as a golem, but its stone skin was clearly chiseled and sculpted to perfection, and not only was it carved with sigils and covered in embellishments, its movements formed runes almost incidentally.

It countered her charge with an upraised hand, which sent a patch of force to capture Sorynel and knock her to the side. She, however, was ready. When the force caught her in midair, she spun, dislodging herself from its grasp. The moment she landed she lunged again, slashing out and landing a solid strike on the construct.

“I fucking hate constructs,” she swore as she quickly dived around it to avoid getting caught in another force spell. She struck heavily at the back of one of its legs, but rather than falter, it simply struck back at her before she dodged.

Sorynel continued to rush around it, marking several points on the ground with an X that she drew with her finger. In her mind, she pictured mana condensing from the air on each of those points, but with her body she continued to strike out and dodge as the construct turned to keep up with her.

Jerky as its movements were though, the construct was less than predictable. Suddenly, it turned the opposite direction, and lashed out with one of its long, stone arms. The attack caught Sorynel in the chest, and she crumpled to the ground and rolled away. When she looked up though, she was grinning.

“Burn.”

Energy erupted from each of the points she had marked on the ground, and an inferno rose into a pillar of flame from that point. She didn’t trust the fire to stop the construct though, instead she cast another spell while she looked on.

Massive metal chains rose from the ground beyond the enchanted walkways, and Sorynel took a deep breath to move more mana from her reserves into her active body, and began pulling the energy from the air as well. The chains continued to rise, and she willed them to come forward and wrap around the pillar of flame even as it began to wane.

As soon as she could see again, she clenched her first and the chains tightened, squeezing the charred stone construct in a restrictive vice. Sorynel’s eyes flashed with violence as she willed the chains to squeeze tighter and tigheter. She knew better than to let a construct like this live long. They were designed as powerful guardians, but the centuries of sitting near the Source made them potent threats.

The chains began to crack the construct’s defenses, and Sorynel screamed with determination as she forced them to constrict until the being crushed and crumpled.

She stared at the pile of rubble for a long moment to be sure there weren’t going to be any surprises, and when it seemed certainly done with, she collapsed to the ground and began to take several deep breaths.

“That,” she panted, “was easier than I expected.”

With a smile, she then glanced around cautiously to make sure she hadn’t brought more bad luck upon herself. There was enough mana in the air for her to recharge her mana stores easily, so she wasn’t worried about another encounter, but casting that hard and quickly was exhausting.

Her eyes tracked back up to the glowing Source Point above the temple. Now she could have some alone time with it.

Mason listened patiently as Old Lady Sorynel told her story. There was a winding, twisting feeling inside of him that he couldn’t place, but as he listened, drenched in the woman’s powerful energy, it was as if he was living her story himself.

He could feel the cold of the winter paths and feel the panic of being caught out by the mysterious Force spells. He could hear the sound of the priests’ construct shrieking, and feel the exhaustion of the chains used to crush it where it stood.

The only thing he couldn’t quite make out was the appearance of the Source Point itself. Of course, he could feel the reverence Sorynel held for it, and understand the awe-inspiring might. Even without magic, all he had to do was imagine something that could make this powerful woman kneel and he could understand its might.

For Faynel, though, the story brought on a wave of nostalgia. She had been raised on the tales of her grandmother’s heroic quests, and she lived knowing the ways in which her world was shaped by these great source points.

Hearing the way Sorynel remembered the events was always awe inspiring- she was truly passionate about the life she had lived.

Another hour passed as Sorynel began to explain what she had understood of the Fundamental Force. A lot of the information was esoteric and difficult to comprehend. She talked a great deal about the way it felt to cast a certain spell, or the images she’d conjure to draw up a rune. Though Mason didn’t quite understand how he could use those ideas for his own benefit, he began to realize that his concept of empowering and unleashing the converted energy of a Fundamental Rune were almost childish.

Runecraft was looking to be an incredibly complicated skill.

But the old woman didn’t send the two away empty-handed that night.

“Move aside the blankets by my seat. There you are, both of you.”

They reached under the blankets to find two small chests. They were simple wooden things, with iron bands and no lock. The young looked at the old expectantly before she urged them to open their respective boxes.

In each of them was the same thing. A heavy wooden looking rod, and a small, clear orb, no larger than a pearl. Mason looked at both objects, puzzled, but Faynel shouted and almost dropped the orb.

“Grandmother, you can’t truly be passing this on!”

“I can, my dear,” the woman said solemnly.

Mason furrowed his brows, “I don’t actually know what this orb is, I’m sorry. But the rod, is that your weapon from the story?”

“The catalyst for it, yes. The orb though, well, I’ll let Faynel explain that to you, since I’m apparently not supposed to be passing it along at all.”

Faynel’s eyes were still wide, “These are her teachings. She’s been working on these manuscripts for…” she looked up in awe at her grandmother, “my entire life.”

A smile passed between the generations there that almost made Mason uncomfortable to witness.

“Well, they’re doing no good sitting in boxes, now are they? And you two are my proteges, correct? Isn’t that what we all agreed on while you were learning to be brave a few hours ago?”

Faynel blushed at the crude description of their confrontation. “But shouldn’t you wait to pass these on? I mean, you’ve known Mason for only a few days…”

“I knew the children in that cave for a few minutes,” the whole mound of cushions and blankets shook as she shrugged. “I am very very old. I think you forget that sometimes. It has not made me a more patient woman, and watching Source Magistry fade from our society has made me an angry woman. If either of you two can do something to revive the techniques before I fade into mana, I can die a little less bitter.”

Slowly comprehending, Mason’s smile grew, “This is an amazing gift. What if I can use this to help my entire race survive?” His smile faded and he asked nervously, “Would… would that be alright? That wouldn’t be disrespectful to your gift?”

Sorynel waved him off, “You cannot give someone power and then try to dictate how you use it. You should take that as permission as well as a warning, human.”

Mason nodded. “It could be dangerous.”

“Very,” both women said in unison.

~~

Before setting out for the evening, Faynel taught Mason how to reach into the orb with his mana in order to see its message. It was like reading a book in his mind, and once he understood the fundamentals of it, the process came remarkably easy and there was luckily no language barrier.

However, if he had thought the old woman’s explanations of source were incomprehensible, her recorded history was so dense that he felt like he understood less the more he read.

Still, the two sat silently while Sorynel watched and began to muddle their way through the teachings.

Resolved to study it all carefully over the coming weeks, the two said their farewells and made plans to return in a few days. After the previous night’s attack, they didn’t want to stay much longer than they had to. They chatted eagerly about the story after they had passed the threshold of the building. Mason couldn’t believe the spells Sorynel had claimed to use, and Faynel couldn’t believe they had actually been given her full teachings so soon.

“You have a knack for making people want to help you, Mason,” Faynel said with surprising candor as they walked down the main street toward Mason’s home.

Mason was sensitive to the fact that Faynel walked closely to him. The effects of the mana mingling had almost entirely worn off- no longer could he imagine her feelings and thoughts like he had- but their first week of friends had gone remarkably well. There was a closeness there, he would readily admit, but interspecies friendships were something to tread carefully with.

“I’m lucky for that. It’s probably because I treat people like equals, rather than worshipping them just because they’re strong,” he smiled as he nudged her.

“Okay, but did you listen to the story? That construct would have been strong enough to take on pretty much all of Torysen’s Roving Band at once. Grandmother Sorynel defeated it with effectively a single spell. You can’t say I don’t have some reason to be a little nervous…”

Faynel paused, and Mason watched her as her eyes narrowed and her hand went to her weapon. Reaching for his own, Mason followed her stare, and saw a figure lain in shadows down the way. Even from here and in the low visibility, the body looked injured.

They heard a groan, and then the figure put a hand to the ground and pushed himself to his feet. “Mason, I’ve been waiting for you.”

It would have sounded more threatening if Mason hadn’t moved close enough to know what he was seeing. Shayjol stood before him, clutching a wound in his side and covered in blood. He looked haggard, as if he were on the edge of consciousness. Instinctively, Mason reached out to offer a hand, but Shayjol backed up at his approach.

“Shayjol, are you okay? Who did this to you?” Mason asked, but glanced back at Faynel. She still had her hand on her sword, and a serious, uncaring look on her face.

Shayjol shook his head, “You need to get out of the city, now. It didn’t take much for me to guess where you’d be at this time of night, and they’ll probably be patrolling around here soon.”

“Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen you since we got to the city!’

Shay coughed and nearly doubled over in pain, “I told you I would tell whoever I could about the Demon of the Darkest Night. You helped us find the Biord city, and got me out of the prison. But my friends think you’re bad news. I tried to find you before they did last night, but they got to you first.”

“Who?” Mason almost yelled, his patience wearing thin.

“My friends. One of the guys you beat up. He was, I mean, is, the son of Councilman Manlen. The city isn’t happy. A lot of people are saying you used soul magic to make them fight each other, and that they barely got away.” Shayjol began coughing harder then, and collapsed back on the ground.

Mason began to bend over to help but Faynel grabbed his arm tightly, “We’ve gotta go, Mason.”

“I can’t! Shayjol and his family helped me a lot, I owe him. Let’s just carry him together and…”

“No!” Shay shouted, wincing as he did, “they won’t hurt me again. I’ve got a potion back at my parents. Just get out of here before they show up, okay? Stay off the main road.”

“Fuck this.” Mason turned and looked right in Faynel’s eyes. “Are we in trouble?”

She hesitated, but then gave him a sharp nod. “If they’re attacking again, they must have something they didn’t have last night. Guards? Better weapons? More numbers? I’m sure Grandmother’s story was invigorating but unless you’ve got a spell to pull out of your ass we might be screwed if we get caught.”

“Good thing you’re fast then, huh?” He turned to Shayjol, “Okay, I’m going. Thank you.” He wanted to help Shayjol. Ought to help Shayjol. But if Faynel was worried- He still remembered the feeling of cold steel parting his side, of how warm the blood had been as it poured from the wound. “If more attack us than you can handle, you run. Your agility stat will keep you safe and you can get backup.”

“I’ll do what I think is best,” she said succinctly.

With no choice but to agree, he motioned for her to lead, and they doubled back on their path and began running down some side streets Mason hadn’t yet explored. He wished he were familiar with the city. On his own, he doubted he could get back to his home without getting lost while keeping to the main road. Down these side-streets he was hopeless.

Still, he kept pace with every turn Faynel took. He knew she wasn’t running at her full speed and almost wished she would. Maybe he could disguise himself alone, and she could run on and be safe. All he had to do was head to the city walls, and he could go live out in the trees until things had settled down.

But every few feet Faynel looked back at him to make sure he was there and close. Her hand kept moving to her weapon when she scanned alleys and buildings, and he knew that in her mind she was on an escort mission. There’d be no escaping her, not easily.

“You have your staff and blades, right?” Faynel asked as they zipped around a corner, nearly bowling over two lovers entangled in a dark alley.

“Right. I wasn’t going to go out unprepared to fight.”

“I meant more like,” she looked back at him, “is there anything in your home you’d need?”

Mason thought. He had his bag with him, for what it was worth. Most of it was filled with snacks and artifacts he didn’t know what to do with. He didn’t own much. “No, but why?”

“We can’t go back there,” the two of them nearly jumped over a wooden cart that had been blocking three quarters of an alley, “so we’re deviating.”

“You’re the councilwoman’s daughter, Faynel!” Mason shouted ahead to her, “Are you certain you want to be helping me if the city is upset with me?”

Her shoulders rolled into a shrug as she ran, “I was the one who beat those guys up, and they were the ones that attacked you. I didn’t join the Roving Bands because I liked how the city was managed. Most of us are more Darkest Night than Marran anyways.”

“The Trials said that about Shayjol as well.”

She slowed a little as she processed that. “Unusual. But he did give us a heads up, so perhaps…”

Faynel grew quiet as they began to hear the sound of other feet and some shouts, but resumed her fast pace. They were coming to a crossroads and if they could blow through it quickly enough they might avoid detection. Mason activated Focus and tried to will himself to move faster, and the two of them crossed through to the other side in a heartbeat.

There were more shouts, but neither of them could make out what was being said.

They passed down several more alleys and Mason began to wonder where in the city they could possibly be. Had it always been this large? Were they going in circles? He needed a pathfinding skill immediately.

He hadn’t thought much of the city before this point, but looking around now, it felt ominous. There was something about being known, and unwelcome, that made his stomach turn. Could he blame them for hating him like this? It wasn’t all of them. Even Torysen, who had the most reason to hate him, seemed to be on his side.

But as far as he knew, there was an angry mob out to get him. He felt less like a Demon and more like Frankenstein’s Monster. Though maybe neither of those were good.

“Mason,” Faynel said quietly as she slowed almost to a halt in front of him.

In unison, they pressed themselves up against the wall of the alley and peered ahead. Those were definitely people who looked like they were on a manhunt. And definitely armed. Mason flicked between Focus and Mana Sight to get a better look, and neither were good.

The ruffians from the night before looked like untrained thugs. These looked more like off-duty guards. They were bigger, glowed brighter, and wore actual equipment, even if it wasn’t anything fancy. Were these the same people they had heard walking around before, or a different group?

“I have a skill, a Mana Art. Shadowstalk. It upgraded from my stealth skill. I can wrap mana around me in a shadow and make myself invisible, and I think it might make me harder to see even for Mana Sight.”

She looked at him for a long moment, “That’s a pretty potent skill if it works. Do you have a plan?”

“Do you think I could wrap us both in it so we could pass by undetected?”

She shrugged, so he tried. Since it was his first time activating Shadowstalk in a while, and he hadn’t really gotten proficient with it in the first place, it took a great deal of concentration. He could feel his mana forming around him, not like it did with the glamour but somehow in a thicker mesh. Somehow, that reflected vision.

He heard Faynel gasp softly, and grinned. He grabbed her hand and tried to force the mana mesh over her skin as well.

“Mason, wait,” she said in a rather tight, uncomfortable sounding voice. When he didn’t pull back immediately, she pulled away physically. “That’s um. That’s. Don’t do that with anyone you don’t trust, okay? It was… We need a different plan.”

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but Marrans were strange and he was willing to accept that. “Okay, what if I just cross into the other alley and then cause a huge ruckus? They’ll be distracted and you can escape.”

Faynel’s glare could have cut Mason to pieces. “How about I make the ruckus, and you head down three streets by yourself, and I’ll catch up by another route? I’m faster, so I’m sure I can get past them.”

That didn’t seem like a good idea, but Mason also didn’t think Faynel would be attacked if she weren’t with him. “Okay, fine. But you had better be careful.”

Mason grew wary the moment he slipped away from Faynel and into the shadow of the night. It didn’t help that as soon as he did, she darted off much faster than she had been moving when they ran together. He appreciated her help, and almost definitely needed it, but there was a split in his mind over whether he was willing to drag her into his mess intentionally.

At the edge of the alley, he slowed. The armed men and women were milling about, chatting quietly and looking around. None of them looked particularly alert, but there was no doubting that they were ready for trouble.

The checkpoint wouldn’t hold him though, not if he could slip past. And they weren’t milling in the crossroads, just near them. He held his breath, watched, and waited.

His moment came shortly, and he darted out across the road as silently as he could. The sound of his feet scraping against the paving stones seemed loud enough to him, but nobody looked. He was clear.

Rather than celebrate, he kept moving. Faynel said she’d meet him several streets down, and he might as well get there sooner than later. He twisted around some boxes piled up in the alley and smacked into something solid.

“What the hell?” he heard as a heavy hand reached down and grabbed him by the shirt.

A large Marran lifted him into the air and peered closely at him, “Well look what we have here. I didn’t suspect that… Ah bugger!”

Mason jerked to life and kicked against the man, pulling out of his grip thanks more to startling the man than overpowering him. He scrambled back around the boxes and drew the dagger Leornal had found for him, filling it with mana.

“Oh come on. I’m not gonna hurt you too badly. Guys!” the man bellowed loudly, and shouts sounded in response from where Mason had come. He could only hope Faynel had heard as well.

The man was stomping toward Mason, and he knew he needed to act quickly. He probed the boxes- sturdy, with a bit of heft to them- and had an idea. With a burst of inspiration, and a great deal of Focus, he poured his mana into the one rune he had.

It was easier than the last time he had cast it to form the rune, and once formed his mana moved into and through it almost gracefully compared to his earlier fumbling attempts.

But this was a fundamental rune. He didn’t need to shoot force at every wall, just forward. He remembered the first time he had grasped the mana within him, pulling it into his staff. If he could grasp the force energy as it formed, he could use it.

The issue was containing it. He pumped mana into the rune and force energy began erupting inside of him, bubbling and threatening to blow him to pieces as he fought to control it. He stood up, looked at the pile of boxes, and pressed his hands into them, shoving them and the force energy all at once.

Like a bullet, the boxes were propelled even as the air swirled around Mason. The crash of the boxes levelling the man and shattering into splinters against the walls of the alley were nearly deafening, but Mason didn’t waste a second. He vaulted over the wreckage and took off at a sprint.

Footsteps and shouts followed behind him and he tucked his head and ran faster. Where are you, Faynel? He wondered as he passed down street after street, certain without looking that he’d have to engage his chasers before long.

He finally hazarded a glance behind him and saw his fears confirmed- four people were hot on his trail, and the closest looked determined to close the gap. It was no wonder he had been uncertain how far back they were- this was not an amateur force.

The alley widened at a point and Mason turned sharply as he broke the threshold. Beyond it was a sort of rough courtyard, really more a wide gap where the lack of city planning had spaced the buildings far apart, but he hoped changing directions might convince his attackers to be cautious and knew he’d rather have room to dodge if they decided otherwise.

“Mason, to me!” he heard, and he looked up at a short rooftop to see a figure cloaked, hooded, and masked beckoning.

It might be a trap, but fighting four fast fighters on his own wasn’t very appealing either, so he focused in on that point, then launched himself up off a crate and onto the rooftop. The figure took his hand to pull him up the side of the building, and then threw something across the ground. There was a tinkling as the pieces of it scattered about around the rooftop, but Mason was dragged along before he had time to realize they were caltrops.

“Um… Faynel?” Mason asked tentatively as they ran across the rooftops and eventually down back into the alleys.

The figure punched him, “It’s me you asshole.”

“Oh, Leornal. Why are you here? I mean, thanks.”

Leornal just grunted and handed him a cloak to wear which he donned quickly. He motioned for silence, and then for Mason to follow him. They walked out of the alley and onto a main street, moving slowly with their heads down.

Whispering, Mason asked, “Are these cloaks supposed to prevent anyone from seeing us?”

“It’s always something with you, Demon. At least you’ve made it this far into the night without a stab wound. The cloaks will keep us safe, but I’m not going to explain to you the disguise. Just know that some people in the city can move about without worrying anyone will ask them questions. Those people leant me their cloaks.”

They moved slowly down the city street and it made Mason antsy. He knew, too, that they weren’t heading to his house, and he could see the city gates approaching quickly. Perhaps his short stay in New Marra was at an abrupt end.

At the gates, Mason said nothing as Leornal talked with the guards. One of them rose their voice and showed a bit of steel, but a few words from the archer cowed him, and soon they were passing through without anyone having seen Mason’s face, or, he assumed, his mana.

They passed by and began circling the city, but they’d not gone very far before Leornal’s hand shot out to stop Mason in his tracks.

“Human, step back.”