Atell’s head was throbbing as his eyelids fluttered open.

A damp gag stifled the groan emerging from his throat. Fog clouded his mind, numbing the pain and confusion. He tried to move his limbs, but they were tightly bound. The surroundings passed by in a blur as the man carrying Atell slung over his shoulder raced through the forest.

An audible tear could be heard as a rebounding branch snagged on one of the kidnappers' jackets. The men weren’t using any torches or form of light to guide their path... and it was difficult to see anything in the encroaching darkness on this cloudy night.

Anxiousness and fear welled up in Atell’s heart as menacing shadows loomed all around, and the ragged breathing of unknown men filled the air.

“Alright, hold up for a moment,” the apparent leader of the group whispered. “We’ll be coming up on the boat shortly. Everyone good on the plan?”

“Aye.”

“Ye, boss”

…

Based on the number of replies, the group consisted of six men — including the boss.

“Good. Dax, you and Ralph are up first. Take the decoy carriage to Kobi, then rendezvous with us in Omgazi. Remember everyone… we’re dealing with a practitioner likely surpassing the level of an Adept on our tail, so exercise extreme caution.”

After the boss issued his warning, the group was back on the move. The sound of rushing water soon echoed in the distance.

Atell suppressed an indescribable sinking feeling in his stomach. If they reached that boat… he’d likely never see his new home again…

The man carrying Atell on his shoulder roughly tossed him onto the ground as they reached the tributary’s edge. A sharp pain lanced through the side of his head as he landed awkwardly against a stone.

“Tch, careful Ivan. The Reaper won’t be happy if we damage his goods…”

“Yea, yea… why don’t you carry him next time then?” Ivan retorted with a sneer.

“Quiet! Both of you!” The boss hissed.

Atell was nearly knocked back into unconsciousness by the fall. His face was stained with dirt and blood as he flipped over and struggled into a seated position and turned his gaze skyward to pray.

Suddenly, a piercing light erupted from the clouds, re-igniting the ebbing tide of hope. The silvery missile descending from the heavens soared soundlessly through the night.

It approached in the blink of an eye, completely unbeknownst to the men hurriedly preparing the boat for travel. Atell’s heart caught in his throat as the projectile paused dramatically in midair. It exuded a cold and desolate aura, hovering directly behind the men like the reaper’s scythe.

“Which one of you is the leader…?” Sivelle’s aged voice spoke directly into the ears of all present.

The startled men all turned around swiftly. In unison, their eyes landed on the glistening bolt of energy. Its appearance was that of a menacing shard of ice littered with jagged edges.

An exasperated sigh was carried through the air on a bone-chilling breeze. “...The leader will present himself before the count of three or I will simply kill you all,” Sivelle announced flatly.

Even Atell felt his heart stifled by the casual declaration.

“One…”

“Two…”

One of the cloaked men stepped forward. “I am the leader of this group…” He declared, boldly.

“Ivan, you idiot…!” Another reached out to pull him back.

As the angry whisper resounded, the floating icicle split into 5 smaller shards. The man reaching out hesitated.

“Who is this I am speaking to?” Ivan called out.

His question was answered by one of the smaller shards piercing through his heart at a blinding speed. For a moment, Ivan clutched weakly at the frozen hole in his chest before he toppled over.

The man standing closest to Atell sucked in a sharp breath.

“Now… Will the real leader please come forward. I will not ask again.”

Among the trembling men, one stepped forward and pulled back his hood.

Atell’s eyes shook. He recognized this man. Aamir, leader of the Shimmering Heights militia. A well-respected and kind man who made frequent purchases of cream to alleviate footrot for himself and the other guards. He often joked with Atell and gave generous tips.

“My name is Aamir, Your Grace. I am the one who organized this group.” He knelt down and bowed his head as he spoke.

“Very well…” Sivelle appeared in the branches of a tree at the fringe of the forest. A crystalline bow of ice was poised in her hands. She smoothly drew back the taut string and as she did so, another large icicle formed between her fingers.

She released her grip, allowing the shard flight. It arced slowly through the air this time, laboriously so. In its wake, a bridge of ice materialized.

Atell watched in awe as Sivelle slung the bow over her shoulder and slid gracefully across the crescent bridge towards the ground below. Her gown fluttered in the air… she appeared like a wrathful goddess descending from the Divine Realm to administer judgment on the lowly mortals as her cruel gaze inspected the men.

Finally, the icicle landed directly in front of the boss quivering on the ground.

Sivelle stepped lightly off her bridge as she arrived. “As Mundane, I assume you all understand the punishment for meddling in the affairs of the Dynasty’s practitioners?” Her eyes swept across the men. One of them even broke out into sobs as she spoke, but none replied.

“Then I, Sivelle Naharu... will administer your judgment.”

“No! Please…!” The man’s plea for mercy was silenced as the remaining shards in the air silently pierced into his and the other kidnapper’s chests with a muffled impact. None of their deaths were as clean as the first man’s. Anger transformed into despair in their eyes as they toppled to the ground.

Only the boss remained standing. He flinched as the bodies of his comrades crashed into the dirt.

“Who sent you to capture this boy?” Sivelle demanded.

“An R-Reaper who recently arrived in Kobi. S-She spoke of a Demon with a promising bloodline appearing in Shimmering Heights. I was immediately sent to observe the child and act when an opportunity presented itself…”

“Enough.” Sivelle silenced the man. “Do you know the name or appearance of this Reaper?”

The man shook his head. “I-I’m afraid not. We met but once. She wore a veil and her appearance was blurry... indistinct… not matching the description of anyone I’d met previously in Kobi’s underground.”

“Fine. How long ago did she arrive in Kobi?”

“J-Just about eight weeks ago, Your Grace.”

“How troublesome…” Sivelle muttered. She reached down and gripped the trembling man’s shoulder.

He looked up, a glimmer of hope was written plainly on his face. It was not to last long, however.

Ice spread from Sivelle’s hand and quickly swallowed the man whole. She placed the man turned ice sculpture into the boat and shoved the vessel out onto the river.

...Finally, her eyes landed on Atell.

He flinched back subconsciously as Sivelle walked towards him. A deep sadness swam in her sapphire eyes. She smiled weakly as her aloof demeanor dissipated and the wrinkles around her brow deepened.

“...It’s ok now, Atell,” Sivelle whispered while removing the bindings and gag.

A dull chill seeped into Atell’s bones as he hugged his knees and started gulping up the fresh air. It felt like his breath had been frozen in his lungs as he’d watched Sivelle deal with the men.

“Everything will be all right...”

Atell tilted his head back and accepted the warm liquid from the vial that Sivelle placed against his lips. His eyelids grew heavy as a comforting warmth spread through his extremities.

The last thing he was able to recall was Elaina arriving on the scene…

***

Sivelle’s fingers tapped methodically against the kitchen counter as she supported her chin with her other hand.

“...Could someone have witnessed Atell’s practice?” Elaina asked softly.

“No, I make sure to monitor the surroundings closely whenever Atell leaves the home, and the wards set up on the ridge are powerful enough to block any observers…”

“Then…?”

“From the north. When Atell first arrived, I dismissed the agents from the Aurelians and Coven alike. They came seeking the Heartstone the boy had stolen, but it was no use as he’d already consumed it…”

“...So you think they return, seeking reparations?” Elaina didn’t find it likely that either group would exert much effort to punish a slave that had fallen into Sivelle’s care.

“No, this was a probe. They had an idea of my strength, yet still sent Mundane to complete the task. The perpetrator wanted to observe my… alertness and willingness to protect the boy.” Sivelle sighed deeply. “Those were all men of Shimmering Heights, illusions engraved deeply in their minds, believing themselves mercenaries of Kobi hired by a Reaper.”

Elaina’s frown tightened into a thin line. “The Coven then?”

“I believe so. I do not know what they seek. Maybe to extract knowledge of my recipes from the boy, or maybe it’s an attempt to settle the old debts...”

A shiver crept down Elaina’s spine as her mother stood — bitter fury burning in the woman’s eyes. She had seen this look once before. Those who provoked the ire of the Huntress of the Frozen Expanse would soon find their blood run cold.

***

Dashing mutely through the forest like an apparition, Sivelle followed the traces of Mana left clinging to the men’s corpses back to their source.

The crude trail was an insult to her skill as a hunter. Someone so precise in layering their illusions would not leave such obvious proof of their involvement unless they intended to be found. Even a trap would contain more subtlety than this, so Sivelle worried not for her own safety.

Unless one of the Branch Leaders made a personal appearance, no Witch of the Coven posed her any threat.

Sivelle paused at the edge of the clearing as her prey entered her sight. Two women stood patiently among the protruding rocks and snow, their dark outfits danced with the shadows as the wind swept past.

The silver clasps of their cloaks depicted a serpent coiled around a half-open eye with a crescent-shaped pupil. They made no attempt to hide their affiliation, a clear provocation that elicited a snort from Sivelle.

Neither woman appeared to be dressed for battle. One simply clasped her hands together inside her long billowing sleeves, while the other wore a plain black mask and clenched her fists at her side, appearing taut — almost anxious.

“Well, out with it,” Sivelle barked. Her disdain for the two Witches was evident, evoking a grimace from the rigid one.

“Lady Sivelle, I’ve long heard of your boorish attitude, but there is no need for such hostility. We come seeking a simple trade, not violence.” A bright smile blossomed on the mature Witch’s face as she stepped forward to address Sivelle. Her countenance was refined and seductive.

‘Likely the illusionist…’ Sivelle mused. She raised her hand, sending a flash of azure light through the air faster than the eye could track.

The smile froze on the mature woman’s face as a shallow cut appeared on her cheek. Sivelle left a trace of her Mana inside the wound, making sure it wouldn’t be easy to heal.

A low hiss emerged from the illusionist's lips as the pain registered moments later in her mind.

“If you understand my nature then there was no need to act so dubiously, carelessly wasting the lives of Mundane. Speak your intentions clearly. I will not ask again.” Sivelle announced.

The masked woman strode forward but was held back by her partner. “We want the boy. We are willing to open the Coven’s trove of magical ingredients and allow you to select any three items in exchange.”

“Is my apprentice’s life so cheap?” Sivelle remarked. “Do you not think I possess the ability to gather ingredients myself?”

“N-No harm will come to the child!” The masked woman blurted out.

The illusionist sighed but didn’t rebuke her partner. “Of course you have the ability to gather materials, but even someone of your stature cannot freely roam through the Coven’s territory. We possess ingredients that you won’t find anywhere else, surely you must know this?”

“Why do you seek the child?” Sivelle chose to temporarily ignore the woman’s backhanded insult.

“It is a private affair of the Coven, but I can swear a blood oath before the Ancestors to look after his well-being,” A hint of relief entered the masked woman’s voice as she finally had the chance to speak.

Sivelle shook her head. “I will brook no further discussion on this matter. The boy is not an object to be traded. He stays with me. And if I find any traces of the Coven still lingering around, I will eliminate the threats without hesitation.”

“Sivelle, think carefully... The Matron is willing to put any debts to rest if you agree.” The illusionist spoke boldly, gathering Mana at her fingertips.

“You seek to instruct me, child!” Sivelle bellowed. The air froze in the wake of her voice. “It is not I who owes a debt to the Coven… Unless the Matron personally delivers Branch Leader Elisen’s head to me on a platter, I will not forget our animosity!”

Another flash of light severed the illusionist’s right hand from her wrist.

“That is punishment for reaching your wretched hand into the affairs of my territory,” Sivelle warned. “Now begone, future perpetrators will be killed on sight.”

She released her hold on the women and watched carefully for any traces of unwillingness in their eyes.

The illusionist clenched her jaw and clutched the stump of her arm as she fled into the shadows. After the masked woman hesitated for a second, she quickly followed.

Sivelle’s gaze turned to the sky as they faded into the distance. Her imposing posture deflated. The Coven’s proposal was puzzling… She had hoped to gain some answers but received only more questions. It was clear that they were unaware of the boy’s potential or they wouldn’t have offered such a paltry reward. Furthermore, the fact that the masked woman was willing to perform a Blood Oath was even more bizarre. It was akin to binding herself to the boy for life.

‘Strange indeed...’

Unless he decided to become her official disciple, Atell would only remain in her care until she felt he was capable of returning to his tribe safely... If the Coven still sought him out at that time, it was out of her hands.

Sivelle disappeared from the clearing, allowing the wind to howl through the forest once more.

***

A cool hand rested on Atell’s forehead as he woke.

“...Feeling okay?”

“Yea…” Tears leaked out of his eyes as he turned his head away from Sivelle. She continued stroking his hair, quietly humming a tune until Atell was able to reign in his turbulent emotions. “How long was I asleep this time?”

“Only through the night,” Sivelle chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Atell, but I wanted you to… understand certain things.”

Atell nodded. He thought he understood what she was implying. The Aurelians would often publicly punish offenders in the village. Maimings, whippings, and even the occasional execution. Often it was the Ravens at the receiving end. They were the most… willful of the tribes under the Clan’s control.

No, last night wasn’t Atell’s first time witnessing death. The Hinterlands were cruel and violent. It was no place for the weak of heart.

He only found himself replaying the events of last night over and over in his mind because he’d never witnessed a grown man who was armed — so helpless to fight back. There may as well have been ropes binding those men, their heads already resting on the executioner’s block.

Sivelle wielded true power. She held the lives of those men in the palm of her hand, killing them as easily as squashing a pest. Atell found himself drawn to that dominance, yearning for it, and it made him anxious. He couldn’t figure out why he felt that way.

“Why’d they do it?” He finally asked. A few scant interactions with Aamir was enough for Atell to determine that the man was well-respected in town. He knew that didn’t equate to good character, but Shimmering Heights was a peaceful place.

“They were tricked by someone.”

“I see…” Although Sivelle didn’t go into much detail, Atell had little interest in their motives. He only inquired to distract himself from his discomforting desires.

Seconds ticked by as they relapsed into silence. Sivelle seemed to be waiting for something. A question likely, but of what nature?

“Sivelle…” Atell paused. It was still gnawing away at his consciousness. He sought control, the freedom power would provide. The Aurelians could rule over the Trion Mountains because they had it. Sivelle could kill those men without a second thought because she had it.

His mother was exiled from the tribe, unable to love whom she pleased because she didn’t have it. And his father died in a mining accident because he didn’t have it.

Strength gave one the ability to determine their own fate as Atell saw it. He knew his grandfather thought the same way. Maybe that was why Tenshi wanted him to remain in the Dynasty. There was more opportunity here. Resources and knowledge were more accessible to people of low standing. He couldn’t let this chance slip through his fingers…

“...Will you help me perform my Initiate Ceremony?” Atell’s voice was scarcely louder than a whisper.

Sivelle’s face remained stoic as he snuck a glance at her. “Look at me, Atell,” she commanded. “I will only help you if you tell me what it is you seek.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“What are your goals? Aspirations for the future?”

Atell hesitated for a few minutes, searching for an answer. “I want to become a Warlock so I can help free my tribe.”

It wasn't good enough. Sivelle’s frown deepened. “Speak truthfully, Atell. I won’t give you another chance.”

Anger surged through Atell’s veins. What more did he have to say? Was it such a big deal? Becoming an Initiate in his tribe was only special because they were stifled so heavily by the Aurelians. He knew Sivelle had the resources to perform the ceremony in excess.

But if she asked, he would oblige.

“I hate them!” Atell growled while rising from his mattress. “The Aurelians. They looked down on my people and destroyed my family! I want to put them in their place, shackle their feet and send them into the mines never to see the light of day.” All the emotions that had been simmering in the back of his mind for the past year surged to the surface. He was nearly panting at the end of his tirade, feeling exhausted.

“Good, at least you were honest. I will help you, but you must first erase your debt, then earn enough to pay for the ceremony yourself. How long that takes is up to you.”

Atell acceded to her demands with a nod and slumped back onto the bed, both surprised and elated Sivelle had agreed. In his mind, he started mapping out a plan…

***

Sivelle sat on the porch, reflecting on her conversation with Atell as the chair rocked gently, forward and back, like the tug-of-war in her conscience.

She feared for the boy’s future, but she didn’t doubt he would be able to find the means to break the shackles of the Mundane even if she refused. It wasn’t her place to deny him anyway, preaching right from wrong. Her youth had been all too similar, and she believed that Atell would find a purpose greater than vengeance somewhere down the line.

There was also the fact that she found herself more and more interested in the boy’s bloodline and the potential of the magic he would wield.

Amendments to their daily routine would be necessary if she were to squeeze out his greatest potential...