Tenser shivered as the breeze whistled through the ring of standing stones. Branches stirred in the canopy stretching overheard, whispering the secret songs of the Enchanted Forest. Beyond the light of his fire, Tenser glimpsed the stirrings of movement, of creatures come to investigate the stranger in their midst.

Sensing the wizard’s power, they soon returned to their nests and burrows. Not even the most desperate of beasts in these parts would dare risk such a confrontation. Though given the import of this night, he had taken no chances. His Circle of Power shimmered overhead, its threads of silver, white and sapphire lightning dancing to the tune of a secret music. A safeguard against outside interference, it would protect him for as long as mana burned in Tenser’s veins.

The fire crackled and spat as it burnt low. Tenser absently kicked the last of his firewood into the hungry flames, his mind absorbed with the words of the spell he would soon cast. There was a whoosh as the wood took light, followed by a billowing of smoke. Tenser choked as the wayward wind swept the harsh fumes into his face.

Choking turned into a full bout of coughing, until Tenser was left bent over and clinging to his ivory staff for support. By the time he recovered, his eyes were watering and his chest aching as though he’d just been drowned in the Dark Sea.

“So much for the mighty wizard,” Tenser muttered to himself as he straightened. “Defeated by a run-of-the-mill campfire.”

He managed a half smile. As much as he wanted to deny it, the truth lurked beneath his words. Tenser had been mighty once, has stood alongside the greats in ages past to unite the Four Circles. He had lived through ages of peace and destruction both, had the glory of victory and the crushing despair of betrayal.

But now…

“This wizard still has one trick left up his sleeve,” he muttered.

Wind howled through the trees and branches clashed overhead. Standing amidst the shadows, Tenser heard not the rustling of autumn leaves but the whispered mirth of a thousand tiny voices.

Folly, folly, folly!

“Begone foul demons!” The words were on his lips, though he knew there were no demons here. Not in this enchanted forest on the outskirts of the Four Circles, as far from the Dark Lord’s fortress as one could come.

Which was just as well, for this night he planned to sow the seeds of the Dark Lord’s destruction.

Beyond the soft glow of his flames, beyond the silent standing stones, the trees of the enchanted forest loomed, pale ghosts in the dark. A silent audience to his desperate gambit. Even here, Tenser couldn’t help but feel a tremor in his spine. If the Dark Lord had somehow learned of his plan…

Tenser shook his head. The time for doubt had passed. This day, he would change the fate of the Four Circles forever—

“Ahem…”

Tenser jumped as a voice spoke from behind him. He spun, raising his wizard’s staff to bring the full destructive power of his mana to bear on the intruder—only to pause as his gaze settled on the one that had interrupted his preparations.

A young girl leaned against one of the standing stones. She appeared no older than twelve years of age, but Tenser had seen her ilk before and recognised the ancient soul peering out from those emerald eyes. Her long auburn hair rippled as though caught in a great storm, though the winds of the forest had died to a whisper upon her appearance.

Despite all his power and that the girl stood no taller than his navel, Tenser found himself retreating a step.

“Fate.” He whispered her title like a talisman, though names held no power over this creature. “Why are you here?”

The goddess’s laughter rang like a bell as she righted herself and stepped away from the standing stone. “Tenser,” she tsked, raising a finger and wagging it in front of her face. “Did you truly think I would not know what you intended?”

A lump lodged in the wizard’s throat at her words. Rage quickly followed, its fiery heat chasing away his fears.

“You cannot stop me,” he growled, defiant. “You cannot interfere.”

Again the laughter. The sound was soft, almost gentle. To a lesser mortal, one might have mistaken such a sound as the joyous mirth of a child at play. But Tenser heard its iron edge.

“You are right, of course,” came Fate’s reply. “But know this: to interfere with my providence is to invite chaos into the Four Circles.”

“I would rather chaos than see my people suffer another century beneath the Dark Lord’s yoke.”

Fate spread her hands. “So be it, Tenser of Bledross. You have been warned.”

And with those words, the goddess turned and stepped from the circle of stones. As she crossed the threshold of his magic, her form took on a translucence and faded away.

Alone again in the darkness, Tenser drew a steadying breath. He had come too far to turn back now. Still the worms of doubt gnawed at his mind, nourished by the warning of the divine. Yet the goddess served not Good or Evil, but her own immutable plans. She could not be trusted.

And so raising his arms, Tenser began to chant the words of the spell.

The weariness came upon the wizard quickly as mana went rushing from him in a surge of transcendent energy. Darkness fled the forest then, cast back by a burning brightness. For a moment, the standing stones were revealed as though daylight shone upon the forest floor. Inscriptions upon the granite flickered, then began to glow as the ancient power inside woke.

Tenser slumped to his knees as the mana rushed from him and stars danced before his eyes. Energy crackled upon the air as the primordial magics of the stones took life. Crouched amidst it all, the wizard felt the pressure of that power upon him, and knew his spell had been successful.

The energies continued to swell, forming into a knot of burning light. Such a working would send ripples through the Four Circles. Those with the talent to sense it would know something had changed, that the fabric of the world itself had been altered. But they would be too late now to stop things.

The die had been cast. Now not even Fate could foresee where it would land.

The Dark Lord would know, of course. He would send his minions to seek out the source of the disturbance. By the time they arrived, Tenser would be long gone.

The energies of the circle had built to a crescendo by now. It was time.

Blood thrummed in Tenser’s ears as he raised his arms and spoke the words long forgotten by mankind. This magic, these stones, predated even the elves. Such a spell had not been seen since long before the founding of the Four Circles.

A crack shook the forest and what creatures remained hidden in the nearby undergrowth went skittering for their burrows. A soft sizzling filled the air as reality itself warped. A thousand colours rippled on suddenly visible air currents, shifting from red to blue to yellow and back in the space of a heartbeat. Heat washed across the wizard’s face, only to become the icy breath of the dead.

Tenser cried out in pain and ecstasy, in joy and despair. Clinging to his knobbed staff, he could feel the spell slipping, the magic of the ancients stuttering. Something had gone wrong. Despite his meticulous calculations, the portal was unstable. If it failed, he was done. All his careful planning, all his preparations, they would come to naught.

But he was Tenser the Great. He would not fail. With a mighty cry, Tenser gripped his staff in two hands and brought it down.

Boom!

Tenser stumbled as mana flooded from him to feed the spell. Darkness crept upon the edges of his vision, but he clung to consciousness and watched as the spell stabilised. Slowly, almost tentatively, a portal formed in the air before him. And for the first time in a thousand years, a being of the Four Circles looked upon the mystical realm of Earth.

The wizard’s eyes drifted closed as he felt the warmth of another sun upon his face. Its light cast back the darkness of the forest, filling him with wonder—and hope. Fate be damned, the spell had worked. The gateway was complete. Now all that he needed was to speak the final words of the spell. The words that would seek out that unknown soul long prophesised to rid the Four Circles of the Dark Lord.

The words to summon a hero.