Gorn,

I want to congratulate you on having established the Guild as an official institution. I know it must not have been easy, with the nobility breathing down your neck and watching your every move. If anyone could have done it, it would have been you.

However, I also want to warn you about experimenting with one’s inner landscape. While I can certainly see the benefits of the ritual of initiation and your spells, I also fear the consequences both may bring. The intention of helping Seekers to break through is noble, but combining your new spells with the ritual may give birth to soldiers instead of Mages.

Please consider my words.

Elusco

A letter from Elusco to Gornatius Siti, founder of the Guild of Mages. Dated 476 a.f. Last copy existing, now hidden in the archives of the Guild.

Birds chirped in the trees. A calm wind rustled the leaves, bringing with it a smell of wet soil and wood. Walking through the forest, Silas felt at peace. He knew there was nothing to fear in these woods. He was at home. Stronger than ever, Silas felt his connection to Gnarly.

He knew that he was dreaming. Yet at the same time, he was not. All of it felt too real for it to be a mere dream. The farther he walked, the more familiar everything around him seemed. Soon he began to recognize parts of himself in the trees. Without being able to explain why, Silas knew something with absolute certainty:

He needed to reach the heart of the forest.

Steps quickening, Silas weaved through the trees. The woods became denser with each step, but he instinctively knew where to step. The earth beneath his feet, the trees around him, and even the wind ruffling his thick brown hair. All of it was a part of him. The whole forest radiated vitality, filling Silas with unknown energy. It invigorated him, urging him on.

The source of the energy had to be at the heart of the forest, he somehow knew.

Time passed as Silas sped through the forest. He eventually stopped, surprised at what lay before him. Dense white mist made up some kind of barrier. It spanned from left to right as far as the eye could see, too thick to see through. The mist reminding him of his nightmare a couple of days ago when he had slept inside the massive tree and bonded with Gnarly.

Back then, he had floated inside the white mist. Yet now he stood outside of it, with the barrier denying him entrance. Feeling the pulsing energy that came from it, Silas knew he had reached his destination.

The heart of the forest. Concealed by the barrier in front of him.

However, Silas felt a bit apprehensive about trying to break through the barrier. He still remembered how lost he had felt, trapped inside the seemingly endless white mist. On the other hand, he had also met Gnarly on that night.

Looking over his shoulder, Silas saw his wooden friend staring at the barrier in front of them. Gnarly’s gaze was completely focused on the barrier. Silas felt the force from Gnarly’s gaze. As if it tried to pierce the mist with willpower alone.

Seeing the determination in its amber eyes Silas decided to join his companion in its effort. Laying his hands on the barrier, he felt surprised by the resistance of the white mist. It felt completely solid.

Silas pushed, putting all of his strength into it.

But the barrier would not budge an inch. It still stood there uncaringly, the white mist slowly dissipating into the forest around it. Annoyed by his lack of success, Silas tried again.

He knew there it was important for him to break through, even if he did not know why. Time and time again he pushed against the barrier. And although he did not manage to break it, he thought the barrier was not impassable, either.

Silas continued to dream through half the night, pushing against the barrier all the while. The morning came suddenly, and Silas woke up exhausted. He shuddered, the furs doing nothing to fight back the cold. Sweat coated his body and soaked the mattress he slept on, clinging to his body like a wet rag.

Little wooden fingers gripped his nose, pulling it from one side to the other.

Gnarly radiated enthusiasm as usual, waiting for Silas to open his eyes. Before losing the last residue of sleep the dream from the night struck him with surprising vividness. He could not only remember, but more so feel himself standing in the forest and pushing against the misty barrier.

Massaging his hurting nose, Silas threw on his too-large clothes and walked out of the cabin. Tom awaited him outside, preparing breakfast.

“You need to work on your sleeping schedule. I am not your serving maid.”

“Yes, master,” came the groggy reply.

“I need a few supplies, so we will go to Heilmold today, a village not far from here. The people know me there, but don’t tell anybody I’m teaching you magic. Most folks don’t think too highly of Mages outside the Guild nowadays,” Tom said.

“Not like you’re actually teaching me magic anyway, all I got are bruises so far,” Silas grumbled, too low for his master to hear.

Tom’s long staff had suddenly appeared in his hands as he turned to his apprentice.

“What's that?”

“Nothing master, I won’t tell anybody,” he replied, taking a step back to get out of range.

“Good. Take as many furs as you can carry after you finished eating. We are going to trade them in the village. Also, you need to hide Gnarly. A fellow like him will arouse a lot of suspicion, and you don’t want news of it to reach Bryme,” Tom warned him.

Silas’ shoulder ached as he followed Tom through the forest. The furs were heavier than they looked. Worse yet, Tom demanded of him to continue walking silently regardless of all the weight he was carrying. Trying to balance the furs while stepping with his heels first exhausting.

At least it wasn’t cold. The morning summer warmth pierced the thick canopy, bringing life to the woods. The birds had just woken up, their chirping ever-present around him. Tom occasionally stopped to question Silas on a few herbs they found on their way. Every time he forgot something, his master would add one fur to the pile on Silas’ shoulders.

By the time they reached the village, his legs felt like jelly.

Heilmold was a reclusive village. Hidden inside the large forest, it bordered on the mountain range to the east and the big crystal river to the west. It had a couple of hundred inhabitants, most of them farmers or fishers. As agreed upon earlier, Gnarly left his customary spot on his shoulder and crept into one of the large pockets of his pants.

The wooden gate was closed as master and apprentice approached it. A shout came from atop its wall.

“Oy! Who goes there?”

One could see the speaker looking down at the duo, his gaze resting on Tom. Instead of replying, Tom simply stared up at the man.

A creaking sound announced the opening of the gates a moment later.

Silas chuckled. Seems like he was not the only person to find Tom’s stare disturbing. Hearing his chuckle Tom directed his stare toward Silas, the old man’s face as stone-faced as ever. Silas’ chuckle quickly turned into an awkward cough. Tom snorted and began to walk into the village of Heilmold.

Once inside the walls, he turned to his apprentice.

“I have a few things to take care of. Take the furs to the tailor at the end of the street and see if you can get a few pieces of clothing that fit you. Meet me at the tavern afterward and get yourself something to eat. It’s the big three-story building right over there,” he said, pointing to the huge building ahead of them.

“And if anybody asks, just tell them you are training to be a hunter,” Tom added, walking off before Silas could respond.

Sighing, the boy made his way through what appeared to be the main street of the village. Apart from the tavern to his left, he also saw a blacksmith and butcher. They were smaller buildings and had little signs hanging over their doors. A pair of village boys walked by, snickering as they saw him. Silas stared daggers at him, yet they only snickered louder.

With his baggy clothes, unkempt appearance, and the stack of furs on his shoulder he probably did not look that intimidating.

‘Why can’t I stare at people as Tom does’ he thought.

Ignoring the looks he got from the other villagers, Silas reached the end of the street. The house of the tailor looked to be one of the better ones in the village. The first story was made of stone, a sign picturing a needle and thread hanging above the door. Instead of windows, wooden shutters decorated both sides of the walls.

On top of the first story was a second made of wood, with a slate roof completing the picture. The door stood ajar, and Silas could see a man and woman working within. Walking in, he waited in front of a long wooden counter. Apart from the strong smell of leather a faint note of fish hung in the air.

“You can place the furs on the counter boy, I’ll be with ya in a moment!”

The voice belonged to the man, who was bent over the workbench rubbing some kind of oil onto a piece of hide. He was almost completely bald and wore well-fitting leather clothes. A couple of thick, solitary gray hairs could be seen on his head.

Silas dropped the fur on the counter with a grunt, relieved to get the weight off his shoulder. Stretching his right arm, he took a look around the store. To the left sat a woman, presumably the man’s wife. She stood in front of a large wooden loom and gave him a friendly smile. Her fingers seemed to move of her own accord, weaving deftly through the various threads that were pulled taut on the loom.

After a short while, the man walked over to the counter. He seemed surprised to see Silas standing there.

“Oh, a new face! I’m assuming you want to sell these?” the man greeted him, gesturing to the huge pile of furs.

“Actually, I was hoping I could trade them for some clothes that might fit me,” Silas replied, pulling on his shirt for emphasis. It hung almost to his knees and was so wide he could have fit twice in it.

“Sure, no problem at all,” the man assured him. “Might I ask where you got these furs from though? Obviously, you are not from around here. And to be honest, you don’t look like much of a hunter to me either.”

“I-I didn’t steal them,” Silas stuttered. “My master gave them to me, and told me to trade them for some new clothes.”

“Your master?” the man frowned, and even the woman looked up from her loom.

The situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for Silas. The woman even had stopped working and looked at him with confusion.

“He’s teaching me how to hunt, his name is Tometheor. He told me you know him,” Silas said uncertainly.

The earlier suspicion evaporated like mist, and the expression of the man changed instantly.

“Oh boy. You’re Tom’s apprentice? Wait a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Take a pair of Liam’s old shoes as well, they might fit him,” the woman added.

Nodding, the gray-haired man went upstairs. The woman’s heart-shaped face was scrunched up with worry, her voice soft.

“Are you getting enough to eat? Is he treating you well? You know, there are other hunters here who could teach you as well. You don’t have to stay with him if you don’t want to.”

The sudden change in the atmosphere confused Silas even more. Tom was a bit harsh, and his stares were pretty disturbing. However, Silas doubted any of the other hunters in the village could teach him about the Arts.

“Thank you madam, but it’s alright really. He’s not too bad.”

“If you say so,” she responded, the doubt evident in her voice.

Loud stomping from the staircase announced the return of the man. He held a pile of clothes in his arms, on top of which lay a pair of sturdy-looking shoes.

“Take a look to see if anything fits. Liam won’t be needing them anymore anyway,” he said. “If you don’t find anything, I also have some other sizes in the back.”

Thanking the kind couple, Silas took a look at the pile of clothes in front of him. Finding a tunic and breeches that seemed to be about his size, Silas began to take off his shoes to try them on. He quickly stopped though, suddenly aware of Gnarly in his pocket.

He could not let them see it. Concentrating on the bond, Silas tried to tell Gnarly to lay still and not make any sound whatsoever. Although he could only give his companion a feeling for what he wanted from it, Gnarly seemed to get the message nonetheless.

Taking his clothes off very slowly so as not to disturb his friend, Silas tried on the new breeches. It took a few adjustments, but they were a definitive improvement to what he had worn before. Cradling his old pants with Gnarly in its pocket in his arms, Silas thanked the couple again before leaving the shop.

He had already left the shop when the woman turned to her husband.

“Did you see how carefully he handled his old clothes? I really hope old Tom isn’t too hard on the boy.”

“The lad seemed fine to me. He will manage,” replied the man, returning to his workbench with the furs under his arm.

Outside, Silas quickly went around a corner to put Gnarly into the pocket of his new breeches. Feeling comfortable in his new shoes and clothes, Silas went toward the tavern in the middle of the street.

The smell of stew welcomed him the moment he opened the door. Most of the patrons sat around small tables, eating and chatting lively. Choosing an empty table near the bar, Silas waited for Tom to return.

A while after he sat down a serving girl came to his table. She was perhaps a few years his senior, wearing a long white apron dress. Blond hairs were bound back in a thick ponytail that fell down her back.

“Anything I can get you?” she asked, giving him an easy smile.

Lost in his thoughts, Silas had not seen her approaching. Looking up at her, Silas could not help but return the smile.

“I’m fine thanks. I’m just waiting for someone, to be honest,” he answered.

“I can see you’re not from around here, what brought to Heilmold? We don’t get many visitors around these parts, you know” she said.

“I’m Tometheor’s apprentice, he’s teaching me how to hunt.”

“You’re old Tom’s apprentice?” the girl’s eyes went wide. Sitting down on the other end of the small table, she put her arms on the table, speaking to Silas in a low voice.

“Is he as gruff as they say? He only comes every week or so, and hardly speaks a word. Nobody really knows who he is. He just appeared one day, and refuses to tell anybody where he lives.”

Shifting in his seat, Silas thought about what to say. He momentarily forgot about Gnarly in his pocket though, who gave a high-pitched creak as the walls of the pocket closed in on him.

“What was that?”

The girl leaned half-way over the table, trying to look at where the sound came from.

“N-Nothing,” Silas said quickly, putting a hand over his pocket.

The room seemed to get warmer with each heartbeat as Silas become aware of just how close their faces were. The girl was pretty, and the curious look in her eyes had something alluring to it.

“Didn’t sound like nothing though,” she said meaningfully, still looking at Silas.

At a loss of words, Silas said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Must have been the chairs creaking.”

He instantly regretted his choice.

“A-huh,” she replied disbelievingly, leaning back into her chair.

The door to the tavern opened, but Silas’ attention was elsewhere.

“So anyway, how’s it like being Tom’s apprentice? ”

Shrugging, Silas tried to sound as casual as possible.

“Better than most seem to think. The old man isn’t as threatening as he appears to be.”

A huge shadow suddenly darkened the table. A deep voice broke into their conversation, startling both of them.

“Is that so?”

Eyebrows furrowed, Tom loomed over Silas. His gray eyes were as piercing as ever, causing the boy to squirm in his seat. Silas glanced to the other end of the table, but the girl had already left.

“I was j-just saying what a nice teacher you are.”

“Sure you were,” replied Tom with a snort, sitting down on the now empty chair.