The people of Alind disdained speaking Standard. Kor had learned their half-assed language just in case, but he still refused to speak it.

“The tomes,” the Alindan “merchant” spat, unhappy to use the multiversal language. Unnatural, the Alindans called it. But a god king? Yes, perfectly fine.

Kor picked up one of the spell tomes to inspect. Alind was the home of several liches, a couple of them experts in soul magic. It was unfortunate that all they did was hoard their knowledge, only sharing it with a trusted few. Thankfully, some of the trusted few were painfully lacking in coin. Kor was happy to fill the void.

“Splendid work,” Kor said as he finished his inspection. He placed a bulging coin purse on the table. “Count it if you please, I will wait.”

“You aren’t the scamming type,” the merchant said, storing the coins away. “Do you require any more rare tomes, Mr. Kellaud?”

“At the moment, no,” Kor said. “These should keep me busy for a time. However, I must urge you to reorganize your business. There are traces of soul magic all over you.”

The merchant swore in Alindan and casted several spells on himself. All unaligned spells, Kor noted. The man wanted to hide his affinities. “I sense nothing.”

“Soul magic is subtle,” Kor said. He could see the foreign currents hiding deep in the man’s core. The steely blue snakes were wrapped around his reservoir, ready to constrict as soon as their owner wished. It was a simple type of curse spell but highly effective nonetheless.

“I can get rid of it but the next tome will be free,” Kor said.

“Done,” the merchant quickly said. The chance of this being a bad prank or scam paled in comparison to the risk of an unchecked soul spell.

Kor’s mind’s eye lit up with the only array he usually needed. The currents stopped as if they had seen him for the very first time. He was a disturbance to their Flow, a brand new curiosity. And they needed to know what he was.

The merchant shifted uncomfortably. Kor sympathized. He vividly recalled his first experience with high level soul magic. A deep, instinctual feeling of wrongness. A soul mage was a stone the river moved around, and for a brief time, they could force the fish around them to swim upstream.

Kor’s reservoir spread into the Ethereal like branches of a labyrinth. The chaotic dimension nipped at him like a cranky puppy, sending probes of raw mana his way. Kor watched the currents around him become thicker as his world was stylized into magical abstraction.

His hand phased through the dazed merchant’s chest and grabbed the soul snakes. They dissipated as soon as they left his body, returning to the Ethereal.

Kor halted his spell, returning the world to normal.

“It’s done,” he said.

The merchant blinked a few times, then narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Soul magic is subtle,” Kor said simply. He withdrew a black marble from his pocket. Before the merchant could say anything, the marble expanded, swallowing Kor whole. A moment later, the bubble popped. And the soul mage was gone.

#

Kor appeared in a seemingly unending meadow. Stars unnaturally glittered above, tossed haphazardly into the sky rather than carefully arranged. Small streams flowed toward a pristine hut of fine wood, its chimney letting out a steady stream of smoke. Its undead owner sat on a rock nearby, staring at Kor while he smoked a pipe.

The lich wore a set of faded clothes. The back of his head was missing, replaced with an eerily shifting turquoise flame. Unlike the common myth, the lich’s face was not rotting or mummified. The old man’s face was tired, yes, but Kor chalked that up to his eternally bad mood.

“Eskel, why even smoke?” Kor asked as he walked over.

“Eskelaad,” the old man growled before sighing. “It’s not tobacco this time.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“I grow it myself.”

“Even better!” Kor said. “Can I—“

“Marcy can come get it herself.” Eskel eyed him. “Unlike with your visits, I actually enjoy her company.”

“She’s actually been asking to come here. You know, you could just give her a key.”

“I would never have peace.”

“You already have too much.”

Eskel snorted. Roots rose through the ground, twisting and molding themselves into a table. “Put the books there. Let’s see if you got something good.”

Kor carefully placed his Alindan tomes on the table, then withdrew the Warrosian, Glebyan, Pledni, and Nessian tomes from storage.

“Not too many this time,” Eskel said as he picked one from the small stack.

“I tried to be more selective,” Kor said.

“Did you now,” Eskel grumbled as he flipped through the tome. He grew another table next to him and placed the tome on it. “Library.”

“Library.”

“Library.”

“Library.”

“Are you going to help?” Eskel asked, raising a brow.

Kor finished skimming his tome and gently placed it on the library table. “I’ll be getting a raise at this rate.”

“Is Alonse’s family well?” Eskel asked as he read through the next tome. He went slower this time—one for Study, perhaps.

“Estelle has grown so big, you should see her!” Kor said. “She does ask for you, you know. She says you give the best gifts.”

Eskel snorted, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And Yena?”

“Back to enchanting since Estelle is in school now. Draenec is helping her get back in practice.”

“I suppose I should visit…” Eskel murmured. He grew another table to place his tome on. “Study.”

“See? We’re already doing better than before,” Kor said as he put another tome on the library table.

“When will you be starting a family, hm?” Eskel asked.

“When we run out of books to hunt and I’m forced into a lab,” Kor said as he moved another book to the study pile. “Marcy says she doesn’t want to settle down either.”

“Because you don’t want to,” Eskel said. “Mages like us live very long lives, Kor, but they never stay peaceful. Do not wait too long, else you will wake one day to find peace forever outside your grasp. And you won’t even know how it slipped away.”

Kor stared at the stack of tomes. “I…”

“Decide soon,” Eskel said. He held up a black tome and, with a little infusion of mana, revealed the closed eye symbol on its cover. “You have finally shaken hands with the wrong devil, Kor.”

Kor paled.

“One of Olivant’s, yes,” Eskel said. “I will be returning it. He will be suspicious but let the matter drop, provided that my story holds. To that end, you will not place even a step into Alind or its territories until I allow it.”

Kor took a deep breath. “Thank you. Truly.”

Eskel snorted. “Leave the tomes. They’ll make for nice props.”

Kor’s eyes widened. “You’re inviting Olivant here?”

“To be allowed into another’s domain is the greatest sign of sincerity,” Eskel said. He seemed to consider something before his gaze grew tired.

"What is it?" Kor asked, his voice twinged with worry.

"We are about to enter very interesting times, I believe. Tell Alonse to clear the labyrinth and get his dogs ready."

"...What was in that book?" Kor asked, now looking at Eskel with uncertain fear.

"Settle now. Or never at all," Eskel replied.

A black bubble wrapped around Kor. When it popped, he found himself near a small town bordering Centralis. He swore under his breath, withdrew a glass ball from storage, and threw it to the ground. It shattered, allowing the mist within to escape and swirl up into an oval mirror. Within it, he saw Eskel’s domain.

A young man with an ornate white robe and long black hair had entered. They spoke for a while before Eskel handed Olivant the tome. He looked it over before nodding, then disappeared in a burst of light. Eskel stumbled back and grew a chair to catch himself. The flames swirling at the back of his head flickered, growing significantly dimmer. They brightened again a few seconds later.

Kor breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed the mirror, letting it dissipate back to mana. Another untraceable scrying spell would be hard to get, but peace of mind was worth it.

Something hit the ground behind him.

Kor whirled around, his spells already spinning to life. Then he froze.

The merchant’s severed head lay on the dirt, his eyes gouged out and replaced with oversized pearls. The ears were filled with another pair, and one fist-sized pearl filled the poor man's mouth. Kor scowled and stored the head away. He couldn’t let the townsfolk see it.

How was the merchant found so quickly? The soul magic was from an amateur, not Olivant Yedsain. Were there already people scrying after him when he picked up the book? No, Eskel would have picked up on it.

Kor’s heart turned cold. There were many rumors surrounding Olivant and his mysterious affinities. He was known for his seemingly random arsenal of rare and exotic magic, all at a level that he shouldn’t have been old enough to reach. Nobody questioned his talent—the bastard had become a lich at 25—but even the greatest genius couldn’t work every hour of the day.

Regardless, if one of Olivant’s spells could find someone, kill them, and deliver their head in seconds, well, Kor got the message.

Following it was a different matter entirely.

Without further delay, he rushed toward Centralis.