They moved rather faster than Mattie, as a Healer, would have recommended given their respective states, but the terrifying memory of the wyvern spurred them onward.

Still, their eyes flickered upward often. They were all shaken by the attack, most of all Mattie, who despite the inverted Calm Person energy was still nauseated and retching every mile or two, and Kieran, who was quiet and distracted, though Rowena supposed he might just be focusing on keeping moving despite his injuries.

What a ragtag team they’d become, Rowena thought with concern, pulling the edges of her hood closer around her head. Mattie’s idea had been brilliant– though it compromised her ability to see to either side, the narrowing of her visual field made her feel safer and cozier.

Sorel seemed to be in the best shape of all of them, but even she seemed tired, like she was pushing the boundaries of her Stamina Proficiency. When they stopped for lunch, the tall Shield ate an enormous amount, nearly half of their remaining food, but nobody mentioned it. Rowena and Mattie were too nauseated to eat more than a few bites, and they hoped to be in Arcania in time to eat some supper, even if it was late. The less they had to carry, the better.

Kieran remained uncharacteristically quiet, brooding over the map that Thea had given them after he’d eaten his share. This seemed a little strange as they had joined the main road– broader and better marked than the one through the forest– heading toward Arcania from the seaside town of Shepherd’s Port– there was only one way to go, as far as Rowena was concerned.

“Something wrong?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

Kieran looked up at her in surprise. “No. I just– I didn’t realize how… how big the world is,” he said with a touch of embarrassment. “I’ve never even heard of a lot of these places. Kalket? Gyatia? Have you?”

Rowena shook her head slowly. “No, but then–” she pointed at the thick borders between the places he’d named and Calathan, their own country– “those are totally separate lands to Calathan. I doubt there’s been much exploration and trade… they’re so remote.”

Even Calathan was a fairly lax term, more a concept than a real Kingdom, Rowena realized. Once or twice a year a representative of the crown came into Tunehlan, levied the taxes that, while steep, weren’t steep enough to warrant much comment, and left. In return, Tunehlan was apparently kept safe from invaders, though now that Rowena thought about it, she wasn’t really sure what invaders there might be. Perhaps this Kalket? Or Gyatia? Rivenland? She looked back down at the map– Kieran was right; the other lands seemed extremely far away. Kalket was across an entire sea!

Her Merchant’s brain began to turn, wondering what goods might be found in places such as that, what cloth and spices and wine and–

Or your Secretseeker’s brain, Cuth said wryly.

Rowena ignored him, and stood up, gesturing for them all to get up, as well. “We need to keep moving– we’re still at least six hours from Arcania.”

Wearily, her friends rose, but said nothing as they continued their walk. Rowena noted with concern that Mattie now walked right next to Sorel, who held her arm around the copper-haired Healer in a way that would have been sweet if Rowena didn’t realize that Mattie needed the support to walk.

As they marched down the broad, dusty road, a dreadful thought occurred to Rowena that she hadn’t considered previously. Just how were they supposed to obtain entry into the University itself? She’d sort of imagined just… walking up, explaining herself, but surely it might be more complicated than that?

When I was at Arcania, it was pretty much melded into the town itself. In a way, the University is the town, Cuth said. There’s not really anything else there. Probably only a little bigger than Tunehlan.

You attended Arcania? Rowena thought with surprise. This was one of the first concrete things she’d heard him say about his life.

I… I suppose so! Cuth sounded almost as surprised as she was. Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s hard to remember any… specifics…

His voice faded into nothingness, though she thought she could sense him pondering the subject.

Rowena frowned and put her hand on her stomach to settle the latest bout of nausea. That can’t be right, though. Arcania isn’t just the University… isn’t a small town… is it?

The truth was, she really had no idea. She’d heard the odd traveler talking about it, but it was possible that it only seemed big in comparison to Tunehlan. She remembered the map she’d looked at with Kieran and shook her head. Did she think they’d just waltz right on in, demand to see whomever was in charge, and… and what? Demand justice? Damon Murderer’s head? And then ask for a favor, for the faculty to address the strangeness of their Classes and Subclasses out of the kindness of their hearts?

Rowena realized that the nausea she was feeling was about a lot more than just her recent extreme increase in levels and power.

Over the next several hours, Rowena thought over the dizzying array of events that had complicated her life over the previous weeks: the losses, the attacks, the worrisome effects of their Subclasses. She fingered the truncheon at her side, remembering with horror the sickening crack as she’d used it on a stranger’s skull. She’d been– she still was– astonished by her own actions.

Yet she didn’t even want to imagine what might have happened if she hadn’t acted that night. She may feel guilty– she might always feel guilty– but she’d done only what she had to do. But it was time, she thought, to take responsibility for her actions. It was too easy to blame Calla for her choosing a reckless Subclass in order to follow their brother’s murderer, too easy to blame the stranger for the robbery that forced her to use her truncheon, too easy to blame herself for what was happening to her and her friends.

But blame didn’t help anything. It didn’t bring back Tommie, or change her Subclass, or take back the violence she’d unleashed upon another person.

That’s what I’ve been saying, Cuth thought.

That’s what Leo was saying, she corrected.

By the late afternoon, it was clear that Cuth’s assertion that Arcania was hardly bigger than Tunehlan was absolutely incorrect. At the rise of a gentle, sloping hill, they caught their first sight of what had to be the University town– or more accurately, a University city. It had broad, thick walls at least three times Sorel’s height, peppered with thin slits for arrows and spying. It seemed to be made of the same massive white stones that they’d encountered since leaving the forest, giving it a strangely ethereal cast, yet the blocky, sturdy way in which they were assembled felt aggressive, a warning to any who might approach. At the center of the encircled city rose a huge Keep, made of the same stone but in a smoother, rounder style with a focus more on aesthetics than defense.

Between the Keep and the walls a chaotic mess of other buildings– some of the white stone, but many of wood or other materials– had risen up and extended even beyond the sturdy walls, as though it were an overfilled slop bucket that had spilled over the edges. A much smaller wooden fence– comically ramshackle compared to the strong stone wall, but still something a normal person would have difficulty breaching without a boost from a friend, and even then they risked impaling themselves on one of the roughly carved wooden spikes on the top– encircled the shanty town.

This was not at all what Rowena had expected. Tunehlan had no walls nor a need for them. What was so different about this place only a week’s travel away? She felt a sense of foreboding, but hurried her friends forward anyway. They had come this far. Where else could they go?

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, they somehow managed to increase their pace even further. The four of them said nothing to each other, but each knew with certainty what was on the other’s minds: the haunting shriek of the wyvern, the whomp of its wings as it hovered before its terrifying descent. And this was its main hunting time, this liminal space between day and night.

Even Sorel’s and Kieran’s breaths were coming hard and fast despite their Stamina proficiencies. Sorel was half dragging, half carrying Mattie, who tried not to complain but whose face betrayed her weariness.

Rowena thought of nothing but making it to the rickety wooden guard house next to what must be the main outer gate along the road into Arcania. One step, then the other, she chanted in her mind over and over. Realistically, they’d long since left the territory of the wyvern, and if there had been wyvern sightings in Arcania recently they surely would have heard of it in Tunehlan. Yet the idea that these mysterious creatures had some connection to the magical energy that powered their Classes troubled her– if it was true, then they were beacons for the beasts.

That… that seems right to me, Cuth said hesitantly before his characteristic certainty returned. No–Yes. Wyverns and other fantastical creatures are drawn to the magic.

Your information seems pretty outdated, Rowena replied, excusing herself for rudeness given the situation. Arcania, a small town?

Cuth simply made a grumpy noise in response.

Just when were you a person? Rowena pressed. Talking to Cuthbert, as annoying as he was, distracted her from the weakness and anxiety flooding her body.

Cuth protested, I’ve always been a person!

I mean in your own body, not tagging along in mine, Rowena clarified.

At least, I think I’ve always been a person, Cuth mused, ignoring her. I actually don’t remember much at all about the time in the Heartstone.

Or anything else!

Cuthbert fell into silence again, and Rowena realized, grumpily, that he didn’t intend to respond to her further. She rather missed the time when he was still pretending to be some anonymous part of the Fog that had directed her Class and Subclass Selection. Now, he was free to be his own person, and that person was arrogant, moody, and easily distracted– and worse, permanently in her own mind, privy to most of her thoughts.

They approached the guardhouse shortly after the sun had set. Rowena had guided the little pinkish orb Kieran had created out of her pocket, marveling that it still worked, to light their last quarter mile. The structure was little more than a hut, but sturdily built. It had no door on this side of it, but only a single window that was firmly shuttered. The wooden gates to its right were shut and– after Sorel had gone up and tried to open them– apparently barred. The jostling of the gate must have alerted whomever was inside, and the window cracked open, revealing a weak beam of illumination from a lantern within.

“Whose that, then? Trapper, that you?” A thin, suspicious voice called out.

They all looked at each other, and then Rowena replied, “No, it’s not Trapper. We’re four travelers from Tunehlan, seeking entrance to Arcania.”

“Travelers?” The person inside sniffed. “Can’t let you in til tomorrow morning. Recognized citizens only after dark.”

Rowena looked around at her friends, who all shared matching expressions of desperation. Another night on the road did not appeal, not when they were so close to their goal and so willing to pay for some real beds.

“Please, sir–” Rowena attempted flattery, “we need to get inside. It’s dangerous out here!”

“Well, of course it is. I wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t,” the voice said sensibly. “Stay close to the walls, though, and you shouldn’t be troubled by any brigands. Away from the road, though, or you might get disturbed by some of our drunk hunters coming back,” it added with a laugh.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” Sorel snapped. “There’s wyverns on the loose!”

The voice laughed uproariously at that. “Wyverns? Wyverns? Oh, I haven’t heard that one before, my girl.” He sounded like he might cry from laughter. “Almost worth letting you in for that tall tale.”

“It’s the truth,” Kieran insisted, which only made the man laugh harder.

“I can’t, I can’t,” the man was now gasping for breath.

“Please!” Rowena begged, and decided to try another tactic. “Our friend needs help. Or at least a night in a bed, to rest.”

It was true– Mattie was looking worse than ever, beads of sweat all over her face, eyes fluttering slightly and half closed.

The laughter stopped immediately and the window was pushed open with a squeak. A thin face surrounded by greasy gray hair appeared, eyes peering suspiciously. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Oh– nothing catching,” Rowena said quickly, realizing that she’d misstepped and the man was now concerned about a potential plague. “Just exhaustion. It’s a long way from Tunehlan.”

“‘s only a week’s travel!” the man protested and shook his head, causing wisps of gray to flutter in the lantern light. “No. Can’t break protocol. Come back in the morning and I’ll have the Healer here to inspect you. Make sure you’re not… bringing nothing with you.”

With that, he withdrew and slammed the window shut.