The roots that bound Jasper and Ihra coiled around them tighter, until they were left in a wooden cocoon, with nothing more than their heads peaking out. The man waved his hand, and their wooden prisons lurched up into the air, breaking free of the tree. “Thank ya kindly, gappu.” He leered at them. "The forest spirits ain't too happy with you right now. You should treat'em more kindly in the future, if, of course, you had one."

Jasper vainly struggled against his bounds, but the roots were wrapped so tightly around him that he could not gain any leverage or momentum. Nor could he even wiggle his fingers, which meant that spells were out of the question. As the group trekked back through the woods towards their base, he frantically wracked his mind, looking for a way out. He remembered what Qara had taught him. Unstructured magic has been the salvation of many a mage. Unlike his spells, unstructured magic required no forms, no words, no essence. Instead, it drew directly from the soul. It was a limited resource that once exhausted could not be replenished, and truth be told, Jasper was not keen on using his soul as fuel. But there was really no other choice. Either he gave up, and let the cultists consume his entire soul, or he burned a small portion of his soul and hopefully escaped.

His blood pounding, Jasper reached for the magic, but it did not want to come. It kept slipping out of his grasp, escaping his reach like sand pouring through his fists. The frustration and panic built, as he tried again and again to grab hold of the power locked within, but it danced just out of his reach. His eyes widened as he saw the shrine ahead. A tall white tower emerged from the trees like a giraffe in a herd of gazelles, engraved on all sides with giant silver runes. Large chunks of the wall and the tower were missing, and whatever the runic inscription had once powered clearly no longer worked, but there was still a sinister feel to the place that unsettled him.

Jasper's mind flashed with an image of him on a table, the cultists feasting on his flesh, as panic consumed him. I have to stay calm. He shoved the panic down, deep down into a small painful knot in his chest, as he tried to meditate. I am the river; I flow around all things. I am the rock; all things flow around me.

As it turned out, it’s hard to meditate when you’re about to attend a dinner where you’re the main course, but he persevered. The forest around him fell away, as the river finally appeared in his mind. He stood by the tranquil stream, his soul merging with the overflowing water and the resolute rock. In that moment of transcendence, the magic flowed back to him. This time, he didn’t have to try to grab it. Instead, the magic poured into him, an overwhelming flood that saturated every pore of his body.

Jasper found himself disconnected, a sense of surrealism sweeping across him, as he felt like he was cast out of his own body, observing from afar. His cocoon erupted in a fiery blast. Chunks of burning wood flew out in a violent percussive force, instantly killing two of the cultists. As the smoke cleared, Jasper floated in the air above the terrified villagers. His body was consumed in a torrent of blue flame, and the shadow of black wings flapped above him.

He hung there for a second, his eyes burning with an eldritch flame. The cultists shrank back, as he slowly stretched out his right hand.

“Feed me your sins.”

The air shook beneath the weight of the words, the world seeming to twist and contort as if reality itself was dissolving. And the cultists simply melted. Their bodies collapsed in upon them, withering into little more than a leathery husk as something streamed out of them and into the fiery figure, leaving no one alive except the two children.

As the last of the cultists died, Jasper fell from the sky, the wings and flames flickering out of existence as he crashed into the ground unconscious.

He awoke beside a crackling fire. Gleaming white walls rose above him, and through the arched window, a chilly breeze blew in from the dark night. A pleasant smell wafted through the room, and as he sat up he saw Ihra tending a pot over the fire. His sudden movement provoked a reaction as the two children shrank back, terror writ across their faces. Their obvious terror stabbed him in the heart, and Ihra reached out her hands to calm them.

“It’s okay, he’s not going to hurt you.” She patted them gently on the head, crooning to the two small children.

It’s like they think I’m a monster. But as Jasper gathered his hazy recollections, he realized that’s exactly what they thought, and not without reason. Damn. I probably just killed their parents and everyone they know.

He eyed the two children with regret. There was a boy and a girl; the girl was perhaps 7 or 8, the boy younger. They were dirty and malnourished, their clothes barely better than rags, their black hair long and unkempt, and their blue eyes had long since lost their spark. He walked over to the fire, his movements slow and controlled, not wanting to spook them further. He carefully ladled some of the stew into two bowls and scooted them in front of the kids. He didn’t speak, not wanting to scare them further. They peered at the bowls suspiciously, but eventually, hunger won out over fear, and they devoured the food with the zeal of a starving animal.

He filled another bowl and handed it to Ihra. “So what happened? How did you get free?”

She took the stew, digging in before responding. “After you killed the mage, my wooden cocoon dissolved. I guess whatever deal the mage had with the gappu ended when he died. You passed out and wouldn’t wake up, so I dragged you in here, and rounded the kids up.”

She took another bite of the stew, chewing much longer than required. At last, she spoke up, her words a bit halting. “So, um, I know heritages are a private matter, and can be a bit touchy, but what the hell was that?”

“I just used unstructured magic, like Qara taught me…although it was a bit more powerful than I expected,” Jasper admitted.

She shook her head. “No. You…transformed. Almost like a sidhe. And you consumed something from them, just like the cultists consume the soul.”

She stared him in the eye, a solemn look on her face. “Promise me you aren’t one of them.”

He recoiled in disgust. “No. No. Of course not. I don’t eat people. I…”

He trailed off, composing his thoughts. “Look, I don’t really know what I did back there. I didn’t really feel like I was totally in control. But I vaguely remember saying something like, ‘feed me your sins,’ right?”

He paused, waiting for her assent.

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. "I think you said something like that."

“I think it’s related to the inquisitor skills that keep being pushed on me. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’m not a cultist. My skills, if anything, seem to be specifically anti-cultist.” He grabbed her hand, with a pleading look on his face. “Please believe me.”

Pulling her hand back, she searched his eyes for a long moment, at last nodding. “I believe you. I won’t turn you into the guild.” She looked down, her hand gently stroking the hair of the little girl, who after devouring her stew, had fallen asleep sprawled upon Ihra’s lap. “We’re going to have to take them to the guild, and inform the guild about the village.”

“They won’t - they won’t kill the kids, will they?”

“As long as they haven’t partaken in the sacrifice, they’ll be fine. The Guild and Barracks provide an orphanage for kids of deceased members, or those rescued on guild missions. I’m sure they will take the kids there.”

“And the village?”

“Once they’ve verified our information, the village will be exterminated.”

They finished their meal in silence. Jasper watched the sleeping children, regret gnawing at his heart, until his thoughts were finally overwhelmed by the siren call of sleep.

They rose at dawn and tracked a course to Gis̆-Izum on the map. They had to cut through the woods to reconnect with the road once it passed the village, lest they warn the inhabitants. The cultists had apparently found their horses where they had been tethered in the woods, and had brought them back to the shrine, so they were able to set off quickly, each taking one of the children on their horse.

The little boy squirmed in the saddle in front of him, trying to keep as far away from Jasper as possible. But while the children’s obvious fear of Jasper hurt him, it also made them compliant, and the boy rode without complaint. The sun was already high in the sky when they breached the road again. Spurring their horses to a gallop, they raced for Gis̆-Izum. As dusk approached, they reached the city.

It was situated on the far side of a rushing river. A great bridge led to the city gates, which were flanked on both sides by massive, octagonal towers. The walls of Gis̆-Izum were immense, far larger than those of Hargish. They were a dark, reddish-brown, and as Jasper drew near he realized he could see the familiar grain of wood, apparently petrified, although whether it was by some natural process or through magic, he could not tell.

The guard, seeing their guild uniforms, waved them through without hassle, giving them directions to the guild. “Just follow the walls to the right and you’ll eventually run into the guild.”

As they rode down the street, Jasper was surprised at how different it was from Hargish. In the cooler environment, the streets were not covered, but open to the night sky, the stars shining down from above. There were few stores here, the majority being buried deeper within the city, and even fewer travelers, most having already concluded their business for the day.

The lonely streets were well lit, though. Great lights were ensconced at regular intervals along the walls, lighting the street below, and in their light, he could see the faintest swirls of a light flurry, the little pinpricks of snow dusting his face. By the time they arrived at the guild, the four were cold and a bit wet, as the light flurry slowly soaked its way into their clothes.

The guild hall here dwarfed the one at Hargish. Built of the same petrified wood as the city walls, its exterior was smooth and unmarked, bereft of even windows. The only adornment along the walls were four great towers, set in each of its four corners, and a colossal pair of doors. Unlike the blank walls, the great metal doors were covered in exquisite carvings, with glowing blue runes mixed in like a constellation of stars. No guards stood outside the doors, and as they approached, Jasper feared that they would be unable to enter. But the doors glided open before them, silently merging into the wall.

As they stepped inside, Jasper struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. With a quick glance behind his shoulder, he saw the still dark city streets as the doors quickly closed. But ahead of them sprawled a bustling village, surrounded by green fields stretching out into the distance. The sun shone high in the sky, and low mountains rimmed the horizons.

“I’d heard the stories, but never realized they would be so big.” Ihra craned her head around, looking up at the “sky” rising above them. "This is so much more than I ever dreamed of."

“Did we teleport somewhere? That was way easier than the last time.”

“Hmm?” Ihra responded distractedly, soaking in the surroundings. “No, this is its own little world. A sanctum.”

She tore her eyes away from the mountains, a curious glint in her eyes. “Where did you grow up again? Everyone’s heard the stories of sanctums as a child, even if most are never lucky enough to step foot in one.”

Jasper ignored her question, and, upon his silence, she sighed. “Look, if we’re going to adventure together, you need to tell me something about yourself. How am I supposed to trust you when all I have is questions? You made a deal with the dark whispers in Yar-Khennor, you performed some sort of strange and terrible magic against the cultists, and there is clearly something about your past that you’re hiding.”

He chewed the inside of his lip, mulling it over, before at last relenting. “You said this sanctum is its own little world, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m not from a sanctum, but I’m from a place kind of like it. A place that was its own world, separate from here. We had stories about your world, so I know a lot about it, but there’s also a lot the stories left out.”

“So you came here to adventure?”

He grimaced. “Not willingly, that's for sure. Truthfully, I'm not really sure how I got here. Part of me wants to blame Kas̆dael for dragging me over here, but I don't know if she's actually to blame. Back in my world, there were rumors about other people disappearing, so it's possible she's not the one responsible."

He paused. "Or at least not the only one responsible.”

Jasper looked at Ihra, his eyes reflecting the sorrow that laced his voice. “It’s been hard coming here. My world isn’t perfect - far from it - but it’s not nearly as dangerous or violent as my experience here has been. I never had to kill anyone there, never even had to kill an animal.

He sighed. "Now I’m wiping out cannibalistic cultists, and winged giants and lizard people. We don’t have lizard people where I’m from. Well, except for the queen of England.” Despite himself, a whisper of a smile graced his face.

Ihra nodded seriously. “Was this lizard queen the ruler of your world?”

Jasper laughed, his booming voice stirring the sleeping child snuggled against him. “I was just kidding. That’s a silly conspiracy back on my world. And while the queen once ruled an empire on which the sun never set, now she rules over little more than a small island.”

“So there’s no night in your world?”

“Of course there is. Why would you think that?”

“You said the sun never sets.”

“It’s just a saying. The British empire was so large that it stretched around the globe, so there was always some part where it was still day.”

“Globe?”

Jasper was spared answering further questions as they reached the village, where a small stall was operated by a guild attendant. “Hold up. You’ve got to register with me first before heading into the village.”

The attendant, a short man, greeted them with a cheery smile. Wavy chestnut locks tumbled down to his shoulders, offset by sparkling green eyes and dusky skin. When he smiled, Jasper could see his canines poking up, not quite fangs, but a bit too long for a normal human. Fey heritage.

Jasper dismounted and walked over to the man.

“Previous branch?”

“Hargish.”

“Names?”

“Jasper and Ihra.”

The man paused, impatiently tapping his finger on his desk.

“I’ll need the names of your kids, too, if you’re hoping to secure family housing.”

“My kids?” Jasper was confused for a second before he remembered the two children with them. “Oh, they’re not our kids. That’s part of why we’re here. We ran into some cultists along the road.”

The impatient look on the man's face evaporated immediately, and he leaned forward eagerly. “Was it the village of Khiryat? We’ve suspected them for a while, but haven’t had any proof.”

Jasper paused, unsure of the name of the little village where they had stayed, but Ihra spoke up. “Yes, that’s the village. The innkeeper there asked us to take care of some bandits for them, but when we investigated we discovered that both groups were cultists that had had a falling out.”

The man clapped his hands together, a devilish grin in his green eyes. “Excellent, I will set up a meeting for you with a guild leader.” He looked at a clock on his desk. “I see it's nighttime in the city, so you're probably tired out. We’ll get you a room, and you can have the meeting after your rest. And the kids?”

Jasper chimed in this time. “They were the kids of some of the cultists. We were temporarily captured by the cultists, and they were planning to sacrifice us for the children, so we think the kids are untainted.”

The man jotted a few notes down on a sheet of paper before looking up. “Very well. We can take the kids from you and have someone assess them. As long as they are clean of the darkness, we can provide a place for them in the orphanage, unless you’d prefer to be listed as guardians.”

Jasper looked to Ihra, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I, uh, I don’t think I want to be a guardian at this time, but would it be possible to be kept informed about them? I killed their parents. I had to do it, but still…" He trailed over for a moment. "I just want to make sure they’re okay.”

The attendant eyed him sympathetically. “Ah, one of your first kills was it? That won’t be a problem. Many an adventurer has been in your shoes, lad. The orphanage provides basic lodging and training for the children, but if you want, you can arrange for them to receive more. It will cost you, though,” he warned.

“Thanks.”

The attendant rang a bell, and a few seconds later, the doors of the nearest cottage were flung open as two men strode out. “Ah, Ircya, can you escort these two to one of the open guest lodgings, and Nabu, can you take these two children to the orphanage.”

Ihra shook her head. “No. The children are asleep now. I don’t want them to wake up alone. We can take them to the orphanage later.”

The attendant’s smile faltered a bit. “I’m afraid I have to insist, ma’am. We have to examine them first, to make sure they have not partaken in the dark rituals. You are welcome to visit them as often as you like once they’ve settled into the orphanage.”

She frowned, but held her peace. Nabu gently lifted the two sleeping children off the horses, murmuring a spell under his breath to avoid waking them up. Slinging them over his shoulders, he set off down the street. Ircya waved for them to follow him, and quickly turned down a small side road before stopping at a cottage. He unlocked the door and let them in.

Ircya pointed to the wall, which had a small press plate inscribed with blue runes. “After you’ve slept and gotten yourself sorted out, just push the pressure panel, and we’ll send someone over to meet with you. We’d like to get this cultist situation taken care of as quickly as possible.”

With that, he let himself out, and Jasper and Ihra, thoroughly exhausted, tumbled into bed.