The words Duxton had uttered were still fresh in Sybil’s mind. Only herself and Veximarl were heading to the meeting spot. They were currently east of Blackmount and were hiking up an old dirt path. Their destination was a cliff known as Stareye. It was named after the protagonist of a local legend.

There once was a girl named Stareye, whose home was in Redmount. She had hair as black as night, skin that was as pale as the moon, and eyes that twinkled like stars. As she grew, her beauty became so great that villagers claimed she was a perfect being created by Eatha. No matter how many suitors came for her, her heart only belonged to one.

It was a fighter from the southern lands, who worked as a guard for a merchant. The story claimed that he was secretly Iath in disguise. After they claimed their love for each other, bandits laid siege upon Redmount. Stareye saw her lover’s fearsome magic as he fought to save her and her town. From there, two sides of the same story appeared. Some say she loved him as a man, others claim that it was Iath whom her heart belonged to. Human or god, storytellers agree that she loved one but hated the other.

The divide in her heart was so great that she tossed herself from the cliffs. Eatha, who had kept watch over her plight, grieved for her. She plucked her eyes and tossed them into the heavens so that Stareye could watch over Lustro. Forever a guard for Eatha, who will warn her when true love is being hindered.

Sybil never cared much for tragic love stories, but this one reminded her of Zaniyah and Beat. That was a bizarre situation that Zaniyah had placed herself in. Zaniyah wasn’t Stareye, so it wouldn’t be history repeating itself. She was smart enough to figure out what she wanted without Sybil butting her nose into it.

“You should watch your step. The terrain is becoming difficult.” Veximarl was using his spear as a walking stick. He gave the occasional glance at Sybil to see if she was alright. The sun was already starting to set, which gave Sybil roughly eight hours to get back to the estate.

“I was raised in the core.” She snickered as Veximarl stumbled. “I'll be alright.”

Veximarl adjusted his footing so he would have an easier time walking. “I simply cannot understand how you can remain so calm. We still don't know if they plan on keeping you alive, or why they have put this much effort into capturing you.”

Nervousness was the only emotion Sybil was capable of feeling, but she was better at hiding it than Veximarl was. “They could’ve fed me poison instead of whatever that substance was. The only worry I have is that they’ll try to flee with me.”

Veximarl stopped walking, if only to give her a look full of dismay.

“I’ll be fine.” She gave him a reassuring patted his arm. “I won’t let them take me far.”

Duxton preferred solid plans. He wouldn’t have given the go-ahead if he didn’t believe he could handle the situation. Unfortunately, Sybil was just going to have to trust him on this. Her only role was to get away as quickly as possible. They’ll be able to move in afterward to stop the elementalist.

Veximarl gave her one final squeeze to the shoulder before they reached their destination. The mind mage was waiting for them at the edge of the cliff. He was standing underneath an ancient and gnarled tree. Three children were with him. They were standing on boxes with bags over their heads and nooses about their necks.

“What’s going on?” Sybil took a breath to steady her thoughts, but she couldn’t help but feel angry.

“Insurance, in the event that you didn’t come alone.” The man gestured to Veximarl. “Send the girl here. You may do what you want with these children afterward.”

Veximarl grabbed Sybil’s wrist to stop her. This wasn’t a part of the plan. He wasn’t comfortable with it.

“I’ll be back by morning. Just protect them, alright?” She smiled at Veximarl. He hesitated, then let go of her wrist.

The man waited until Sybil was just out of arm’s reach. “Hold still.” Her body froze up. He took a step forward and grabbed her chin, then examined her face.

Sybil had sliced open his cheek during their first encounter. The injury must have been worse than she realized. It was messily stitched together, leaving it inflamed and discolored. A foul odor was coming from it. There must not be a healer among their group, which was odd, considering that one would think a healer would travel with a group of slavers.

“Speak only truths,” the man said. “What is your name?”

“Sybil Twist.” She heard her voice speak, despite her attempt to be silent.

“Do you have any weapons on you?”

“No.” Her utility knife was a tool, not a weapon.

“Do they have a way of tracking you?”

“Veximarl can summon beasts, but he hasn’t done so yet.”

The man glared at Veximarl before looking back at her. “What sort of beasts?”

“Two foxes, a very large bird, and a mist cat.”

“Do you have a plan for your escape?”

Sybil nervously smiled. “I was going to see where you were taking me first and come up with a plan then.”

The man let go of her chin and outstretched his hand towards her. There was a pansy tattoo on his forearm. It was poorly done, with thick lines that bled and faded near the edges. Sybil’s eyes flitted to it for a moment. She didn’t know too much about tattoos but made a mental note to mention it to someone later.

“Come with me,” he commanded. She took his hand and they walked towards the edge of the cliff. “Hold onto me tightly. Do not let go.”

Sybil grabbed ahold of his waist and he leaned off the edge of the cliff. The air was stuck in her throat. With his magic taking hold of her, she couldn’t do so much as scream as they tumbled through the air. All she heard over the roaring went was Veximarl calling out her name.

She caught brief glances of the ground below them. Pillars were shooting up from the ground. They carried up a layer of soft, fluffy dirt, catching them safely. Sybil was shaking from adrenaline. The ground below them began to descend back into the earth. It settled down and the man let go of her.

Sybil stood up and dusted herself off. Jane was the only one waiting for them. She was riding side-saddle on a horse, with a larger one waiting next to her. Sybil didn’t recognize the stallion, but Jane was definitely riding Oyster. They must have found him after he escaped.

They must have had eyes on the estate for a while, capturing him on the day that she arrived. or one of their people had been working at the estate, and stolen him on purpose so that Sybil couldn’t leave. Regardless of how he ended up in their possession, they didn’t make his life easy. He had slashes from his haunches from being whipped and there was blood around his mouth from his barbed bit.

The sight made Sybil furious but she was helpless to do anything about it now. The mage helped her up on the larger horse and Jane rode behind them. With her magic, she could sense if any of Veximarl’s summons were after them. It was pointless. Sybil was going to be on her own, with her dumb horse as her only known ally.

They rode for an hour and dismounted at a makeshift camp. It was a semi-permanent structure, which looked like it had been set up a few weeks ago. There were a half dozen people present, all men. The mind mage helped Sybil off her horse and kept his arm about her shoulders, shielding her from anyone that came to close.

A set of men helped Jane off of her horse. That was the moment when Sybil realized that the elementalist was heavy with child. There was a bit of a wobble in her step and she kept a hand on her stomach as she walked. The mind mage waited for her to walk ahead before following after her.

“The iron I requested better be prepared.” Jane waved a man towards her.

Sybil’s initial curiosity was replaced with horror as the man retrieved a strange tool from his pocket. It was a stick with a sharp tooth and a strange gold ring on one end. Jane examined it carefully. She nodded approvingly and the man began to prep the strange tool and an ink bottle. The mine mage’s grip on Sybil tightened as she tried to take a step back.

“Don't fight it,” he whispered in her ear. “Tilt your head forward.”

She did fight it. Her shoulders were quivering as she bowed her head. The man with the tool brushed the braid away from her neck. Ink was swabbed across her skin and the tool was tapped over and over again into her flesh with a tiny hammer.

The pain was excruciating. Sybil couldn't breathe from how badly it stung. It felt like her blood was boiling. Someone rubbed a salve over the spot. They wound a bandage around her neck and she was forced to follow Jane again as she walked ahead.

They approached a cliff that towered over the encampment. Jane was muttering to the mind mage as they went. “The mist cats are out hunting now. We will have to wait until they are resting before moving out. The goat path will suffice until we can curl to the west. You will service me before I retire and prepare for us to be gone by mid-morning.”

“Yes, mistress,” the mind mage replied.

They came to a stop and she flexed her hand. A pillar of stone lifted them up in the air, and she pressed her hand against the cliff wall. A section opened up and Sybil was pushed inside. As she turned around, the wall sealed up being her. Holes appeared on the surface, only large enough to let a bit of air and starlight in. The thought of being locked up again made Sybil tense up. This was only temporary. She had to keep it together long enough to make her escape later.

Her mind started to clear of the man's control as soon as she started to hear the pillar descend. His magic was either being used on another person or it wasn't effective past a short distance. She touched the brand on the back of her neck and flinched at the pain. It felt like she had been using magic recklessly. As strange as it sounded, her blood had become sore.

What was it though? The mind mage had a flowered brand on his arm. From what she could guess, it marked him as a slave. Maybe that’s how they were able to control their slaves. Is that why she was being left alone now? Because they had a way of tracking her?

Or they didn’t worry about her escaping because of the roving mist cats.

Traveling on foot wasn’t a problem. She could avoid them with her magic. However, she wasn’t leaving Oyster behind. Sybil braced herself against the wall and peek out. It had to be a two-story drop onto hard stone. She could mist her way out but had no idea how she was going to get her horse. Then she would have to get herself and the horse somehow away from here, even though she didn’t know where she was in the first place.

Sybil had plenty of time to think about it. She decided to wait until she was certain most of the camp had gone to bed. Her time was spent coming up with a plan and running it through her head over and over again to ensure that there weren’t any flaws.

Though her calm peace of mind was shattered when Veximarl’s ghostly figure floated through the rock wall. He was decayed and wispy looking as he floated there. Sybil had to clamp her hands over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming out in terror.

“Thank goodness,” he whispered. “It was difficult to sneak up here without being seen.”

Sybil had been told that he used this spell during last year's exams, but she had never seen it in person. Veximarl stated that it was uncomfortable for him to use, even though Zaniyah often encouraged him to do it at parties.

“Are the children alright?” Sybil whispered back.

Veximarl nodded. “I had Rite lead Shaw to them and I used this spell to track you. Any summons could have been sensed by the elementalist, and I doubted that you

emembered this spell. It’s fortunate that they used lanterns on their horses, otherwise, I would have lost you.”

“Is Shaw heading here?”

Veximarl nodded a second time. “Once I find my way back to my body, yes. It will take him and the militia an hour to get here. His priority is to retrieve you.”

Sybil was still worried. “Jane, the elementalist, she’s pregnant. I’m worried about what an attack would do to her.”

The news troubled Veximarl. “If she values her child, she will likely choose to flee rather than fight. We will ensure she has a clear escape route and hope that she follows it.” He put a hand to his temple. “Unfortunately, I cannot maintain this spell for much longer. Wait an hour and attempt to escape without making a scene. Do you still have your emergency whistle on you?”

“Yes. They didn’t take anything from me.”

“Head westward and blow it. Shaw will attempt to meet up with you.” Veximarl gave her a weak smile. “I pray that I will meet you soon.”

Sybil smiled back. “Of course you will.”

She made her move a few minutes before midnight. Her neck still hurt. Of course it would still hurt, but she was hoping it wouldn't so she could concentrate. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled and shifted into mist. Floating through the holes, she made her way down and reformed again at the bottom.

Despite how dizzy that had made her, she immediately cast her mist step. The horses were all kept in a fenced area. She had no trouble slipping in and locating Oyster. He was asleep but jolted violently to the side as she patted his neck.

“It's me, it's me. Shh.” The horse started to take a few steps back, but stopped when she started to remove the barbed bit that was in his mouth. “Let's get rid of this nasty thing... You better behave yourself without it.”

It would be more difficult to steer him without a bit, but she didn’t want him to suffer a moment longer. He already seemed less tense without it, holding still as she hoisted herself onto his back. They’ll be fine as long as they trusted each other. A gentle pat to his neck and he seemed ready to go.

“We’re going west. We’ll find rescue there,” she whispered to him.

Oyster stamped his foot and examined his surroundings. Sybil inhaled sharply to prevent herself from crying out from shock as Oyster ran forward. Despite his smaller size, he had no trouble making it over the fence. He galloped through the camp and towards the mountain trail. So much for a stealthy escape. The camp was already waking up. They hadn’t even cleared it yet before an arrow whizzed past Sybil’s head.

Putting one hand on Oyster's neck to stabilize herself, Sybil turned around and held out her hand. Concentrating, a large cloud of mist formed behind her. It flooded the trail as they raced through. She let out a curse that she didn’t have the time to move safely. It was dark and the path was rocky. One wrong step of the hoof and it could mean death for both of them.

More arrows flew past them. There were dancing lights in the fog behind them. The bandits were giving chase and carrying torches. No matter the rush, she didn’t dare push Oyster past his limits. Especially not when she saw one of the other horses trip and stumble down a cliff.

As the torches drew closer, Sybil let out a sharp cry. Her tattoo had begun to sting, sending a burning sensation down her spine. No, it seared in agony, as though it were being applied a thousand times over all across her back. She lost the ability to concentrate on creating the mist and had to lean forward against Oyster's neck to keep her balance.

The pain was so great that she wanted to claw off her skin. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she gritted her teeth. She started to paw at Oyster’s neck, subconsciously looking for the reins that were no longer there. Escape was the main priority. Sybil needed to keep it together long enough to make it to where Shaw was. She only needed to make enough noise to get him to notice her.

Reaching for her belt, she pulled out a small whistle and put it in her mouth. The shrill sound it made bit into the air. After a few moments, or for what seemed like an eternity, she blew it again. She let out a gasp of pain and dropped the whistle in the process. Her sight was becoming blurred and she pawed at Oyster’s neck again in an attempt to find anything to grab onto.

Somehow the pain was only increasing. One of the riders was holding his hand out towards her. It was like he was able to control her through it somehow but she couldn't hear his voice as he called out to her. He was with two others that were attempting to flank Sybil. There were more riders coming up behind them. She wouldn’t be able to run for much longer.

A different whistle sounded through the air, this time blowing two short bursts. Sybil ducked her head down as arrows flew past. They were aimed at the riders who were carrying torches. Luckily, the one holding his hand out was hit, and his horse slowed down as he fell behind.

As the pain resided, Sybil was starting to believe that maybe there was an unseen force looking out for her. Unfortunately, it was just as eager to kill her as it was to save her life. “Hyah!” Digging her boots into Oyster's sides, she urged him to head towards the lights that were forming ahead.

She could see Shaw sitting center with a group of armored men. The militia charged past her and initiated combat with the slavers. Shaw spun his horse around and began to ride next to Sybil.

“This way!” He called out as he made a hard right.

They went through a less used path and stopped next to a mine entrance. Shaw dismounted first and surveyed the area. There was a heavy door on the front that he pushed open. It was large enough for them and their horses to enter. He helped her off her horse, and she braced herself against him as he and their horses went inside.

Shaw helped Sybil sit down and looked around. He found a lantern on the wall and lit it. “The militia know we are here. We will wait until we receive news before we return to the estate.”

“Thank you.” She braced her back against the wall. The pain was slowly fading away, but she was completely exhausted.

“What's this?” He knelt in front of her and touched the fabric wrapped around her neck. She replied with a wheeze. “Drink some water.” Shaw loosened a waterskin from his belt and helped her drink a sip.

“T-they marked me,” she managed to whisper out. Shaw froze up, still holding the waterskin midair. “They used some tool on the b-back of my neck.”

The tense nature didn’t fade from Shaw as he carefully removed her bandage to examine her injury. She let out a hiss as he put his hand over it. When he lifted it, he frowned all the harder. The wound had healed, but now he was able to get a clear look at the tattoo.

“It’s a slave mark,” he growled out. “Lady Blu will know how to remove it... Does it still hurt?” She shook her head. “Rest. Catch your breath. We'll be moving out soon.”

Within a blink of her eyes, what seemed like an eternity passed. Sybil rubbed her eyes until the bleariness of the world left them. Shaw was flipping through a journal. He would occasionally scribble in a note before turning the page.

“What time is it?” Sybil stretched out her arms. Her back popped quietly as she flexed her limbs.

Shaw let out a sigh and checked his pocket watch. “... A quarter past ten.”

“What?!” Sybil stood up with a start. “Why didn’t you wake me up?!” Shaw shrugged. She tensed up for a moment as a rage began to fill her. “You know that I have a deal with that idiot! I didn’t think you would side with him on it!”

“I had time to think about it,” replied Shaw. “That slave mark was their goal. That was always their goal. The barracks is no longer a place that can provide safety. Your friends cannot protect you. You have no choice but to rely on us and the resources at our disposal.”

Sybil was flabbergasted. “.... I’m going to kill him,” she whispered. “I-I’m going to kill him and you.”

“That’s fair,” replied Shaw. He stood up and stuffed his journal into his vest pocket.

Sybil aggressively pointed at the ground. “You stay here. I don’t even want to look at you unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Shaw spoke in an uncaring and deadpan manner. “You will need an escort.” Sybil glared at him. He glared back. “You have a poor sense of direction.”

“I do just fine when I have a map and compass,” spat back Sybil. She then shook her head. Getting angry at him now wouldn’t accomplish much. She had plenty of time to get angry at him later. “... Whatever, let’s just go already so I can commit some regicide.”