From his stone perch Corvayne looked out over miles and miles of desert, its gently curved dunes and smooth rock patches stretching to the horizon beyond the gleaming metal walls of the village. If he sat on any side of the tower's flat roof he'd see the same thing in nearly every direction, broken only by the monolithic spire of rock where The Magus lived as well as the single stone road that exited the village gate to vanish into the sands.

He had looked over the line of gray against the yellow and brown of the desert countless times, letting his eyes sweep from the wall off to the point it merged into the shimmering horizon of the desert. When he was looking out there, he could imagine that today was the one where he'd stand up and say 'enough'. He could pretend that today was the day where he'd take his spear, pack his things, and set out into the desert to either die or finally find a life worth living, somewhere out there.

Instead his view fell back to the village that surrounded the old watch tower he had retreated to. The oasis caught the sun and sparkled a lake sized body of water surrounded by vibrant green plant life with little hints of docks and bridges around the edges. The wild circle of green trees, bushes and reeds by the water gave way to smaller rectangular patches of plants surrounded by a maze of tan barriers where rooftop gardens and homes crowded each other. A road laid with colored and white stones formed a faded mosaic separating the first two rings of homes. He followed the road as he might walk it, between more stone homes with rooftop gardens and colorful cloth awnings, flapping gently in the breeze that he felt a moment later.

He heard the sound of someone opening the gate to the roof and felt himself tense, reawakening the dull pain of bruises both new and old. He had just lost another spot to hide. Turning back, he expected to see One-Last-Note's huge form come sauntering up the stairs. Today had been the first time after a one sided spar he had simply dropped his practice weapon and walked off. Maybe he'd end up being pushed off the tower. He felt a little startled that he barely cared.

The visitor popped her head up from the stairs. It was one of his peers, Spears-Like-Water. She glared when she saw him, clearly annoyed he was here. He had no illusions she'd be glad to see him. He had once tried to impress her, but there was no love for him to find in the village. Her beauty had long ago lost its luster for him.

He turned back to the view. He watched a wisp of a rare cloud drift through the blue sky. Maybe she'd push him off. Or maybe he had got lucky and she didn't know. It was worth asking her.

“Did he send you to look for me?” He said, turning his head to be heard but not looking at her.

Spear's voice carried exasperation as she responded. “Of course he did you worthless coward. I thought I had picked the least likely place to find your ass.”

He found her confusing as ever, as instead of turning around or further listing his faults she walked across the flat stone roof and sat an arms length away from him, staring out at the desert and shaking her head, hands at her sides.

“I can't figure out why you'd look for me if you didn't want to actually find me.” Corvayne said evenly.

“One-Last-Note is as clumsy as he is fast and strong. He wouldn't be caught dead trying to climb past the missing floors down there. I thought you couldn't climb them either. As always, you are only impressive when it screws everything up.”

Corvayne wanted to say something back, so much he had to press his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He was already angry at himself for losing control today by leaving a lesson. He took a moment of satisfaction from imagining her face if he told her the only warm feeling she inspired was the same one he got from stepping barefoot into fresh dung. He could do it right now. Lay into her, call her out as a viper who struck with her barbs when he was at his lowest.

He kept his mouth shut. Spears-Like-Water had been one of the few young Watchers who kept doing patrols with him. For all the times she had called him useless, as well as 'an ugly pile of muscles' and 'a stone faced idiot', she had dragged him back to the village after a bad run-in with the monsters. Twice.

He had been left behind by others after bad fights, one time his legs too damaged to carry him. The pair he was with had told him they couldn't help him and left. What followed was four days of dragging his torn body miles across burning rocks and sand. No one had said anything when he pulled himself under the gate, aside from him being made to run laps around the wall for missing practice once he could walk.

All that meant he'd never snap back at Spears. She didn't leave him for dead and she had started just ignoring him more and more over the years which meant he could ignore her back. That was as good as he could do amongst the Watchers. Not love or respect. No adventure either, just duty. He knew nothing beyond the mindless monsters out in the desert. He looked over at Spears-Like-Water, who had dropped her duty to find him, and summoned his courage.

“Hey. Why do you hate me? Why does everyone hate me?” He could see her twitch in annoyance at being asked. “I'm serious. I don't know.”

She turned from looking out at the desert to stare at him. Her frown was odd to him. Some instinct in the back of his head was telling him there was something wrong about it. It wasn't the first time he had such a thought there was something wrong with everyone. He suspected it was another effect of stress slowly breaking him down.

Her voice was strange when she spoke, a cool drawl that didn't carry a hint of annoyance. “The Magus would know.”

She turned her head to face the dark towering rock and his eyes followed. It stood separate, away from the oasis and the village. The wall surrounding the village perhaps would have been a simple circle if not for the huge stone sticking up like a thumb. It stretched the wall into an egg shape to wrap around the quarter mile tall rock.

Corvayne pushed himself to his feet and stepped back from the edge. He couldn't keep heat out of his voice. “Trying to get me kicked out of here? Would it kill for anyone to give me a straight answer once?”

Spears looked at him, then back out to the desert. Her voice followed him as he turned, mockingly gentle. “If you were gone, I'd not have to deal with you.”

Well same to you, he thought. He walked down the stairs then thought about where he could hide next as he reached a dimly lit chamber missing most of the floor. The library? No, Keeper-of-Silence would ban him for a week if he learned Corvayne dragged One-Last-Note in there. The large sword trainer and the librarian got along like oil and water.

He found another hand-hold and started climbing down the fifty feet or so to the next intact floor, passing through light where something had punched a hole in the wall of the tower. Where else could he go? His home was at the bottom of the list. His father was the village's leader and nobody else in the walls could match the level of disappointment his own father summoned whenever they had to interact. His father wouldn't even think about shielding Corvayne in any way. Aside from a small chamber that was his, his father gave him nothing. No gifts, no advice, not even food. Corvayne lived and died off what was provided to everyone. He actually laughed a little thinking about his father standing in anyone's way for him.

He made his way down the tower and out of the brick ruins that dotted the hilltop. He thought about where he could go. There was one Watcher that had never veered to cruel comments. Spaces-Torn-Asunder was a tall thin man who had been teaching him how to make and fix the machines they used around the village. The man's workshop, along with the library, was a rare place where he could forget everything around him. Maybe he could hide there.

He started walking along one of the smaller paths between buildings, his feet deciding that was where he was going before the rest of him was sure. The alley weaved between both homes and jagged half-carved rock that had yet to be carved into a dwelling. It was slightly curved, meaning he couldn't see or be seen if someone was more than a hundred paces ahead or behind him. Following it would lead him to the far side of the village where the majority of workshops were. As he walked he thought about causing trouble for Spaces. If he brought an angry sword master at his heels, would the quiet engineer turn cruel like everyone else?

Corvayne was a little distracted and his instincts alone made him duck as a meaty hand reached out to grab his shoulder from a side street. Corvayne twisted to see One-Last-Note's eight foot tall frame slide into the street, unnaturally smooth in his movements.

“Corvayne! Wandering away during a lesson? Very rude. You know, I'm quite big on manners!”

Corvayne didn't bother glancing over his shoulder, nor putting his hands on his spear. He couldn't fight. Not to win. He had to run. He looked forward and sprinted down the street, heart pounding. There was no way he could outrun the man, but he'd make the trainer pay in sweat if he wanted Corvayne's blood.

From behind him he heard mocking laughter, then One-Last-Note's called out, “Really?!”

Corvayne saw a pair of women talking ahead in the alley, holding wicker baskets. He had no room to go around so he dove under one basket, then tucked into a forward roll to avoid the other. He caught a floral scent as he sprung back to his feet and kept running. He spared a glance back and saw the sword master leap into the air and kick off the curved walls to sail above the women.

“Asshole!” a woman cried out from behind him. He was coming up on a road. Someone was pulling a cart holding a refrigerator across the alley exit. Corvayne vaulted and slid across the hot metal top, then pivoted to run down the cross street. From behind him he heard a crash and more swearing.

He ducked and weaved around the few people in the street. He hoped One-Last-Note had a terrible time trying to keep up as he lept over a planting bed and inside the corner of an awning to cut onto the next road.

Corvayne saw the street was clear and veered into an alley, spotting a stairway that would get him to a roof. He hammered his legs against the stairs and lept to crouch on a stone banister then launched himself over the alley to land in a shaded elevated patio. A glance back and he met the sword master's furious gaze at the base of the stairs. He passed on gloating to keep running up another flight of stairs, vaulting over half walls between roofs and zig-zagging around flower gardens. He turned sideways between chicken cages stacked on one roof, had to leap over a man and woman sunbathing on another, and duck under hanging sheets on the next. When he saw the next major cross street coming up he pivoted to the side behind a third story and took stairs two at a time down to ground level in the same alleyway he had originally been following.

Corvayne checked once to make sure the master wasn't in view, then flipped the thin cloak that he wore to keep the sun off over his head, and started calmly walking the direction he had been running, backtracking. He kept firm control of himself as he heard pounding feet somewhere behind him. He walked as if he was a normal man strolling home, hand on chin as if he was thinking of calling in a favor for some fruit from a farmer on the way back. Each step he was sure the huge sword master was about to knee him in the back, but instead he walked through floating feathers out of alleyway and kept going unimpeded. He saw a broken awning off to the side as well as a few people helping each-other stand, then made his way around a furious man with a dented refrigerator and broken cart talking with two women carrying laundry baskets sprinkled with grit.

The alley he was in ventured past taller homes as it transitioned into what was little more than a tunnel with a crack of light coming from above. That light widened into the bright of day as it delivered him to the sparring grounds bored into the surrounding rock. The four round arenas and the open air entrance from the street formed a four leaf clover shape, each wing a cylinder about three hundred feet across and thirty deep with smooth stone walls leading up to open sky. He saw his spear trainer Waves-Within working with younger Watchers in one quadrant. In another he saw two of his peers sparring with wood swords while three others just sat on the dusty ground talking. He turned his head back to the path and saw a woman stepping into his path and block the exit back into the alley.

Diamonds-In-Passing had her huge two-handed blade slung across her back, the sunlight catching it and her skin with little sparkles that probably had something to do with how she got the name. Corvayne didn't think she'd chop him in two, but he didn't want to deal with her at all. The woman was only a little older than him but bossed him around.

“Corvayne!” She called, stopping him in the middle of wheeling on his foot to walk back and out the clover's base. Too slow.

“Diamonds.” He responded coolly, turning back and acting like he hadn't stormed out of this very spot a few hours ago.

“Dropping a lesson and wasting a master's time is a terrible thing to do. You are training to be a warrior, when will you act like one? What did running away do besides making him madder? Hmm?”

A lesson had a point. He had skipped a beating.

“I made an error.” Corvayne looked downwards, trying to sound apologetic. He was certainly sorry about a lot of things. Diamonds was younger than other trainers and often helped troubled trainees. She often could be seen sitting with them on the bench, listening and offering encouragement. She was everyone's friend and big sister. Just not his.

“You need those lessons. As the elder's son you have expectations and a duty to lead. You can't do that when all you do is show how weak you are, over and over. Will anyone follow a fool? Or a lazy man who doesn't finish his training? How would your father deal with the shame?”

Corvayne's father being brought up snapped something inside him. “Screw the expectations and my father with hot coals. Tell me, is it a lesson when I'm on the ground getting hit? Is that training a leader? Why spar five times as long with me? Am I supposed to be five times better then everyone at everything?” He stepped forward. “What about you? You come over and nag me. It's always me who's a fool. Me who's a coward. Tell me why you hate me. You? Someone? Anyone!”

Corvayne saw something in her face that felt wrong, the second time in one day. His head started pounding in pain as for a moment he could swear he saw her look, terrified? Sad? Hurt, even?

He blinked and the feeling faded as he saw her face was the same impassive one she always looked at him with. He never got a reaction from anything he did, aside from her picking it apart. The pause this time was odd. It didn't look like she was even thinking. It was like a mask was on her face. Corvayne had read plenty of pulp novels where the hero goes mad. Was this what they were trying to convey? The feeling something was off when nothing was? He looked around. Everyone had stopped training to watch.

Her voice was odd when she finally spoke. It had lost the stern edge it normally had, instead taking on a hint of teasing he had never heard from her before. “Corvayne, you really are a fool. You'll die never knowing.”

He took a step back, suddenly worried she was going to use her blade. He took another, meeting her eyes while glancing at her legs to see if she would move, then he turned and ran out the front onto the street and down it, not caring that people were staring at him.

He was getting tired. Not of running, which he could do for days. No, this village was getting old. He ran for a few blocks then slowed and veered off the street to enter the three story library, letting the door close quietly behind him as he entered cool shade. He tapped the grit off his boots and stepped onto the rugged stone floor, the smell of books and the sight of three floors full of stories and tales giving him a momentary bump of relief. The metal racks that held books were stuffed with a variety of sizes and styles. A few screens had been placed at a stone desk on one side of the library. Part of him wanted to go to the row of paperbacks and lose himself in a sword and sorcery story.

“Oh it's you.” drawled a voice from his side. Keeper-of-Silence was an imposing looking man stuffed behind a too-small desk. He carried some fundamental aspect of gloom. Perhaps it was his dark expression, dark hair, and dark eyes on top of black robes. Not that it diminished him. In the dim corner of the library he looked as formidable as any other master of their craft.

“I want a map.” Corvayne said as he turned to meet the mans gaze. It was rare that he matched anyone's stare, but something in him had given. He was ready to go.

A rare hint of mirth passed the librarians face as he stood. “Oh, planning a field trip? Well I have to give you credit, there's a lot of people who insist on failing forever. Why, It's nice to see you finally follow through on something haha!”

Corvayne responded, “And then, finally, you'll no longer be the second most unpopular Watcher!” while matching the man's fake mirth.

The man frowned, snorted, then stepped over to a stone rack, whipping a rolled up piece of parchment out. It was sort of surprising that they didn't keep more and better maps. The librarian carefully unrolled the tan cylinder on one of the wood reading tables. He looked across the table. Corvayne didn't bother meeting his gaze, instead studying the map to absorb the information on it.

It wasn't very helpful, as it was of an entire continent and was clearly drawn for someone following a tangle of roads, with beasts filling in spaces the map maker had no clue about. He guessed that the dot mark with a lone road surrounded by monster infested dunes was home sweet home. A few places with names like 'Goldmere' and 'Cayembrick' were rimmed with green triangles and he thought of walking through forests or cresting a hill to see the ocean the first time.

“Really boy... it's about time, isn't it? You've been coming into this place and sulking for years, since you were a little bird. I'm sure you heard that they chase after anyone who wanders off on an adventure, but you know... they won't look for you. You don't matter to your dad, and that oaf who was after you will just pick the next weakest Watcher to bully.”

“I think they'd drag me back out of spite.” Corvayne muttered. The librarian liked to remind everyone they didn't really matter. Perhaps the man was projecting? Not that he was wrong in this case.

He finished looking at the map and looked up and nodded at the man, who swept his hand across the map to roll it up. Corvayne was heading out the door when he heard the man call out behind him.

“They'd miss your backpack before they missed you!”

Corvayne stood in front of Spaces-Torn-Asunder's workshop. The man was in, he could see light coming from inside, the grind of metal being shaped and cut. He imagined, what? Walking in, saying 'I'm leaving.' and what would Spaces do? He'd look and say 'okay'.

He feared doing it. Stepping out into the unknown. He feared the engineers bland dismissal. What would be left in the walls if the man hated him? This wasn't the first time he stood here thinking would be the last. His courage started to falter. Maybe he could grovel, get the worst duties for a few months, and just keep going. Keep going. Going where?

His head throbbed in pain as a memory surfaced. He had told someone hesitating to go forward. The memory was strange, it was like clawing at smoke to try to remember it. Was it a girl? Corvayne shook his head, the pain fading as he stopped looking back and started thinking about his future.

There was one thing he needed to do. If he was going to be free, he had to know why. Was it him being the worst warrior? That he kept getting injured on patrol? Something the mother he had never known did? Had he done something he didn't know as a child?

He was going to ask the wizard in the rock.

He walked away from the last line of homes, out into shattered boulders that surrounded the huge stone. He had gone here before to hide in the strange glass tubes around it. The liquid distortion of a force field encircling the rock emphasized that no one was to disturb The Magus. It should be impossible for anyone who didn't have one of the dull crystal keys to get past it to the entrance way.

Corvayne could see the glass tubes resolve into scaffolding-like lattice. As he came closer they appeared to merge into the rocks around the main tower, weaving in and out of the barrier protecting the rock. The tangle of pipes bending and curving and cutting across the path to the rock kept him moving at odd angles as he started to spiral into a spot behind the tower. When he had to squeeze against the pipes or heft himself over them, they felt cool to the touch. He knew they were not really glass but rather some other nearly indestructible material. Not entirely indestructible he thought as he ducked under a tube into a clear space by the barrier. Small bits of the glass-like substance was strewn on the ground before a broken segment of pipe. It had fallen from above in just such a way that it formed a tunnel into the shield. It had been there for at least a year, possibly longer.

Corvayne crouched and crawled through, slipping inside the barrier. He followed the rock around to a stairway leading up to a carved entrance. Faces carved into the rock around the door looked sternly out. He didn't know anyone depicted but the sour expressions made him feel more at home, probably against what the carver intended. Perhaps ancestors? No, they had features that seemed inhuman, horns and scales and fangs. The stone doorway itself was about twenty feet tall. Passing into the entrance the temperature dropped. There was a hallway, then the passage started to wind its way down. It was nearly too dark to see, but a diffusive light let him make out the stairs.

Down and down he went, losing count of twists and turns. At last he turned a corner and saw warm light, dim as it was, coming from an open space.

He exited the tunnel into a round cave with a lit fireplace and rugs laid apon the stone. This particular one looked like melted wax and was about fifty feet in diameter. While most of the circular walls had objects against them and looked solid enough, there was an opening in the wall leading down to further caves. He heard a hint of running water from below. Away from that gap there were book shelves flanking the fireplace, made of old wood and stuffed with books. He was a little surprised to recognize some of the paperbacks he had read mixed in with rune marked tomes that towered above stacks of smaller tomes and at least one cookbook.

The center of the room was a large leather chair, facing away from him. From it he heard soft tapping, a sound he had mistaken as water. Moving forward he saw a figure wearing a grinning white metal mask with three black circles instead of eyes. The figure was wearing hooded robes decorated in shimmering dark greens, black fabric wraps all up and down their legs and arms, and a pair soft slippers and propped on a worn footrest. Corvayne saw the figure was carving a fist sized stone totem with a toothpick-sized piece of metal. It was totally enthralled with what is was doing, ignoring Corvayne as it continued its tiny tapping noises.

Corvayne leapt back as the figure threw both the needle and totem behind him then clapped.

“Ah a Guest! At long last, sit sit! Yes! You are in the presence of... The Magus!”

The Magus moved his hands with wiggling fingers back and forth and a chair similar to the worn one he was sitting on appeared as if being pushed through the floor. That gave Corvayne even more pause: there had been jokes in training about fighting mages. He had thought they were jokes. He had never seen magic used before. A weak voice in his mind was trying to say it could be technology he just didn't understand. A coward's way of avoiding the term magic.

In the pause as the figure stared at him with the unmoving mask he found himself not as shaken by the revelation of magic as he should be. Corvayne then realized he was still standing so he placed his spear against the chair then lowered himself into it. As old as it looked it was probably the most comfortable thing he'd ever sat on. The Magus waved his hand as Corvayne was sitting and produced a pipe out of nowhere. A puff of green smoke snuck out as the wizard placed it on the solid mouth of his mask and somehow took a puff. Exhaling the smoke, it curled into green thorny clouds that faded away.

“Mister... Corvayne.” The Magus was looking at him, then shook his head. “Why can I say I'm not surprised that you're the first person who dared to come in here?”

Corvayne shrugged trying to play off how surprised he was that The Magus knew who he was. “I'm the black sheep of the place.”

“Oh come now. I think you're appreciated... in your own way!” The wizard gestured again and a mirror appeared, showing him the oasis. “See, people are looking for you already!” Indeed, he could see Spears-Like-Water and Diamonds-In-Passing both looking agitated. Spears probably was worried she'd get punished for suggesting he go see The Magus. Maybe not, usually the blame fell squarely on him. The Magus took another puff, then let it out in a little chortle. The vision changed to a mirror again.

“Well Corvayne...” Five seconds passed. There was something very off-putting about The Magus's cadence as he spoke. “Since you came I might as... well put... you to use!” The Magus summoned a plate of cookies by simply holding his hand out, as if an invisible waiter was there to hand him a tray. “Did... you want a cookie?”

Corvayne looked at the weird shadowy black hand of the wizard, then up at the tray of cookies. It was filling the damp cave with the wonderful smell of baked goods. He waited a moment to long to shrug and start reaching for the tray.

“A pity! No COOKIES!” The wizard flung the plate and it vanished along with the cookies flung out with it. “Well, as I was saying, the world... NO! The... whole universe is in grave danger!” It was weird how he would make such a proclamation then stop to enjoy two puffs of the pipe, as if the universe being in peril was a totally normal thing to say and didn't need any further thought.

The Magus breathed in, sighed, then seemed to jolt back to memory. “Where was I?”

“World comma no comma whole universe is in danger.” Corvayne prompted.

The Magus quietly said “Thanks Corvayne.” then gestured and another mirror, larger and more ornate, appeared. In it lightning blasted cities of stone. Meteors fell. There was screaming people running.

“Long ago I brought magic into this world. Hurray! And with it destruction, death, chaos. Woopsie! Hence me being bottled up here with you all as my loyal protectors... BUT!” The sudden motion and shouting made Corvayne stand for a moment. The Magus didn't have anything to add, simply letting his arms fall as he collapsed back to sitting and put a hand on his head.

When he spoke it was as soft as a feather, forcing Corvayne to reluctantly lean in even with the threat of the figure before him shouting again.

“Mages... are going to learn my magic. Chaos, Death, Destruction will return. You... are not the fated one... or chosen whatever.” He coughed.

“Uh, Sir The Magus? I've never heard of any fated anything.” Also he was breaking the pattern! Why not dump whatever was coming on the chosen one or whatever? And Corvayne knew it was coming.

“Of course not. No one with a name like Corvayne...”

Corvayne resisted the urge to whip his spear off his back, but only just. His name was... terrible. His mouth was going before he could help himself “Everyone else in the village has better names! Radiance-Like-the-Sun. Two-Moons-of-Sapphire. Bearer-of-Burden. Worlds-in-Awe... and yet I got a bad vampire name. It's not even the same sort of name!”

The Magus sounded particularly sane as he spoke. “I think whoever named you had it out for you from day one my friend.”

Corvayne thought of his father. That was entirely possible. He fell back into his chair, letting his shoulders slump. “So I'm not the fated one or whatever...”

“Well, as I was saying, I don't expect much but I must MAKE... do. Here's your impossible quest: Go forth and build an organization to fight these... leeches who would turn the gift of magic to their OWN nefarious ends.”

Corvayne tilted his head. “What?”

The Magus sighed, placing his hand on his mask as if he was getting a headache “I'm taking you and turning you into a weapon against my enemies! The entire universe is being invaded, and magic is a tool for those invaders! Those mages out there are punching holes in the world. I cannot do what needs to be done from here! Stop the mages. Fix the holes.”

“You know I'm just a... guy with a spear. You could ask anyone else.” Corvayne's doubts about his worthiness extended to the wizard. He was waiting for The Magus to ask him to remove a paper ward or go find him a key or bring him a cup of virgins blood. The showing off, the theatrical 'epic quest' felt like a childish attempt to target his desires. Yeah I read books, what of it Magus?

“Pfft. Fine. Do whatever you want.” More childish behavior from The Magus as he folded his arms and turned his head, like he was pouting.

It was an excuse to leave the village, and The Magus didn't expect him to do anything. Maybe he'd be spared getting exiled.

“I'll see what I can do, but I suspect that if I ran into a wizard, the first thing I'd do is die miserably. Assuming they are a worthy threat.”

“You weathered me just fine.” The Magus sounded bitter for some reason. “Now leave! I have great expectations from you!”

“No, you don't. But that's fine.”

“Of course. You are no leader of men. Just kill one bad mage or something. Then bring me back some cookies! I misplaced my plate of them.”

“I have a question first.” Corvayne looked at the mask, swearing that when he blinked the three eye-marks shifted.

“Oh I know this one. Why? Why do they hate you? Well, they envy you. Who else has come to see me?”

“I had never come here before this.”

“Yes. But it's such an honor... no. You want to know why they REALLY hate you? Go out and do my task, and I'll tell you!”

“You gave me a rather open ended-”

The figure rose, and was taller than Corvayne expected. He snapped from playful to furious. “I DID NOT CALL YOU HERE TO WHINE! GO!”

The air in the room had grown thicker and Corvayne's curiosity was losing to self preservation as the figure towered over him.

“Excuse me then.” Corvayne slipped from his seat and walked double-time up the stairs and back out into the sun. He didn't realize how cold he was until the desert air blasted him. Crawling out from the tube he could see the sun was setting soon. Dinner then. Perhaps he'd leave tonight... Magus's orders. They might even give him a hover bike.

As he rounded the last bend out of the debris and glass surrounding The Magus's home, he saw four of the village's council and his father standing before the steps. His father had his arms crossed, and there was no mistaking that he was furious from how he tensed. No hero's send off for Corvayne! Off to the side of the five warriors he saw Spears-Like-Water and Diamonds-In-Passing. It was odd they were both there. Usually when there was a punishment for him they didn't add spectators. There was a moment where he felt something clouding his head. He squinted at Spears. For a moment he thought he saw her looking concerned. He shook his head. No, she was sneering at him.

His father spoke. As always he had the weight and warmth of a stone slab. “You have always been a failure. My only child, a waste of talent. But this? This is beyond my wildest dreams.”

His father was him but older and angrier. A crown would make him king of a bunch of rocks. Corvayne met his eyes for a moment then looked away at the other warriors with him. One-Last-Note of course was there, the huge man's distaste evident. He saw Waves-Within, his spear trainer, standing tall and distant from everything. Moon-Laughing-With-Stars had a hand on the hilt of her katana. Spaces-Torn-Asunder was the last in the lineup, his face impassive. As his father went on, Corvayne saw his engineering teacher look over at his father then shake his head. A shred of regret wormed its way into Corvayne's heart.

He snapped back to his father droning on by a rare hint of passion. “... EVERYTHING to train you. Protect you. Nurture some sort of good in you. But it's a waste. A fool would see that The Magus is not to be bothered. Yet you what, strode into his home demanding a boon? You are not a Watcher. You will never be one of us. Even the most simple rules that...”

The others nodded along. Weirdly, for a moment Corvayne felt there was something off about what his father was saying. He felt that humming he had felt before and he rubbed his head before his attention snapped back to his father dressing him down.

“... But it matters not. I am cutting you off. You are not my son. You are not a Watcher. Pack your things and leave before the sun rises tomorrow. I exile you.”

“Exile.”

“Exile.”

“You have no place beside us.”

When did he ever? Corvayne had to stifle the urge to just start laughing. He walked down the steps and aimed to pass between Spaces-Torn-Asunder and Spears.

The older man looked like he wanted to say something, but was struggling. Corvayne held up a hand. “I don't blame you Spaces.” The rare person he'd miss.

Spaces relaxed and nodded. “I know. I can't say more.”

Spears looked at him and said nothing. He stopped. “Thanks for saving my skin twice.”

He had nothing more to say beyond that, and kept walking.

Corvayne took his only his spear, his pack, and some extra water. Before the sun had finished setting he was striding out of the gate.

The full moon lit the desert more then enough to travel at night. Corvayne saw a sea of glittering pale gray sand and the road as a dusky blue. He was alone, but didn't feel much different. The growing sadness he felt was regret that he had to be forced out. He should have done this on his own.

He scanned the horizon as he thought about his past. Both empty. He shrugged and kept walking. Maybe he should have stolen... borrowed a hover-bike. Traders died if their wagons broke down in the middle of the road. On the other hand, he had gone through so called 'hell months' where he had lived in the desert with the same gear on his back. As long as he didn't wander into the deep wastes he would find food he could kill, and he had a little tube that collected water from the air. With the supply he was carrying alone he could walk for an entire month without a single worry. It'd be hot, but he had his travel cloak for shade.

He appreciated the moonlight, the orb above a steady companion as his pace let him drift into a flow state, aware of his surroundings but letting his body just move. With ample light the dangers of the sands would stick out like a sore thumb, and otherwise he just followed the path. Then from one step to another, he lost the road.

Now, Corvayne was pretty sure he wasn't tired. In fact, he had more energy now then he had getting out of bed that morning. He accepted that he was... had been a bad Watcher. But anyone who got lost following a well marked road with nothing else around would have been dead meat trying to navigate in open desert. So he felt both titanic embarrassment and a little twinge of panic when one foot pushed the other down into sand, then took another step and he couldn't see the road at all. He made a mark in the sand for his facing, spun to see if there was anything around, then started walking backwards from the mark. In a step, the little groove he had dug with his foot vanished. He made another mark, and took a step forward, then turned. The mark had vanished.

“Well that's not good.”

He looked for the tallest dune, and took a step in it's direction, and the entire landscape blurred for a moment.

“That's also not good.”

The sand was thinner where he was, and he could see some rock formations jutting up between flat packed grit. A sign he was heading into the deep wastes. So he turned around and started jogging backwards. Yet each step it seemed he'd see more signs of twisted rock formations, stone flowing like puddy. He had been taken to see the outskirts, and now he was being shown slides of the place where even the Watchers feared to go.

“Fuck.” In one step, he saw a titanic black shape out of the corner of his eye. The next he was in a dry valley, then another he was in a forest of petrified trees. A step caused the moon to set, his next few taking him through deep darkness. The rocks and dark dunes took on sinister shapes in the near perfect dark, thorny fingers of dark curling around him. Then a step later, it was almost morning. Another step, and the sun popped above the horizon, a gleaming red orb blinding him. Holding a hand to block it, his next step suddenly popped it above his hand, blinding him again. He started running, the deep waste twisting around him. In the back of his head he cursed his father, The Magus, and the desert itself.

Everything was blurring as he ran or walked. He felt the heat of the day start to sear him, but then he'd take a step into freezing night. He tried to stop himself, but he just kept moving, and there was a merging of day and night and then he felt himself falling asleep even as he ran on and on.