“Never question the truth of what you fail to understand, for the world is filled with wonders.”

- L. Frank Baum, Rinkitink in Oz

The delegation was delayed. The clans had been restless, the lessons learned centuries ago were no longer fresh anymore and more than one elder had argued against following the summons. But then the decision had been made by the slimmest of margins. The frost-elves as they called themselves, the children of frozen sorrow walked single-file after the dark shadow of the armored wraith. This time the Heartstealer had requested two out of every three magicians and sorceresses the elves could muster.

The rocky hills with their twisted barren trees covered in snow and ice surrounded the travelers. The earth was cracked and lifeless the frost had seeped deep into the ground.

Nearly a hundred mages and witches had gathered. The old ways were dead and the knowledge of the ancients had faded with the last survivors of the fallen empire. Their students and apprentices, taught one on one or left to their own devices, were much diminished in power.

Silverrestra Terrimel sighed as she struggled through the heavy snow. She had been back in the village for only a short while recuperating from the wounds caused while assaulting Sorringen, this tiny backwater hamlet. She snorted- as if her own was any better. The wound on her torso still twinged and her use of ice to stem her bleeding had worsened the damage later on.

The snow falling from above worried her. The seasons were turning faster than ever and there had not been as much time to build a food stockpile. There would be hungry kin this winter.

The snow ripped apart and ceased for a moment as a heavy wind laden with unearthly cold blasted her face. Holding her arm protectively before her vulnerable eyes she squinted and saw the high spires of the city of broken ivory before her. A gigantic vortex of clouds flickering with greenish lightning rose above the fallen provincial capital. Once lauded for the beauty of its architecture and the wise scholars and wizards roaming the ancient institutes of learning now it was home only to the dead or better- the undead.

The slender skeleton clothed in robes of burgundy and gold, adorned with onyx and ruby surveyed the work of her minions. A crown of blackened gold sat atop the nearly fleshless head. She gestured with the blackstone staff and lightning flashed. Dozens of runic circles were carved into the ancient stones of the city.

As the elven delegation drew near they saw the being reigning over all of Ulsolm. The Heartstealer was a presence that felt heavy, like a piece of glass in a bleeding gash, a wound upon the world.

The shining beacon of her eyes seared the soul, the twisting glyphs of her staff made the sane descend into madness.

The elves fell to their knees.

A voice wormed into their minds and burned words into their thoughts.

“Twenty, I need twenty of yours. The rest I will spare for now. Scurrying ants profiting from my being caged you will join my army and fight my war so that your kin may live. I will let you remember the defeat I brought your empire- forever.”

They chose the eldest, those that were ill. They saw as the life was burned out of their tortured husks when their screams rent the heavens and lightning scoured the earth.

Giants brought their dead on biers of stone while weeping tears of blood and hate.

Wretched men, cast out of even the last places in the broken kingdoms plundered old cemeteries and sold the dead for crystals brought to the surface by dead hands.

Far to the West

Far to the west, a great eye opened and the courtiers stiffened. According to custom, he upon whom fell that baleful eye had to give of his blood to water the Speaking Tree. And as the screaming eunuch was dragged from the court the lord of the cyclops of Nar-Holm the giant spoke, “I have seen. The world will split and the beginning will meet the end devouring it and all will be as if it never was. This I have seen and it will be cycles until it is true.” He stood up from the throne of basalt and roared, “But I will not stand for this desecration of the graves of my fathers and the roots of the tree. Send the Unrepentant to the east. There they shall decide how best to serve the living land.”

The hall was gigantic as were those who stood and kneeled inside. The stones that held the roof made from the trunks of redwood trees were larger than some houses in the villages humans called home, the floor was polished granite an unbroken expanse carved with great leering faces and the image of a gigantic tree. The cyclops wore loincloths and precious metal torques that reached their lower chest. The guards were encased in bronze armor that seemed to be welded to their muscular forms carrying great polearms. The silent warriors were nearly as wide as they were tall, which for most was around five meters, symbols of brutal might. Colorful flowering vines were woven into great tapestries depicting laboring cyclops and gigantic cities burned by falling stars- only those kneeling beneath a bloody tree were spared.

Later with the sun on their backs, hundreds of giants wearing blackened bronze armor marched east accompanied by hulking trollkin beating on hollow tree trunks bound to their chests.

Outside the Academy

Alyssa breathed deeply. She stood far from the academy buildings in the hilly fields that were technically still within the grounds but most often used for somewhat more clandestine meetings. With the snow and cold weather, the popularity had waned sharply and now here she stood. She had drunk the second potion and then made a difficult decision.

Lifting her head she looked up at the clear grey-blue sky. She had lost control. She had wanted to hurt them and the possibility of killing them had not been something which she had really rejected but…

She had not planned to and it had happened. She desperately needed to reaffirm her control. And with the Arcane Exhibition only two weeks away she had to step up her efforts. And here she stood.

She could not leave the grounds and Vanessa could not enter them. That left…

Vivienne, Valens, and Alea stood a short distance away and Vivienne waved at her as she saw her turn her head.

Gathering her courage she focused on opening the gate.

A dark flame four to five meters long gushed from her left hand and the light faded around her before the ground cracked and the brown grass withered to dust.

Asandria looked critical, ‘Don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. You are in control it is simply a matter of adjusting to your new power.’

Alyssa bit her lips and it felt unnatural like twisting a joint in the wrong direction like stopping to drink when parched but at last, she managed to reign in the void.

After practicing for nearly an hour she felt she had a better understanding of the problems facing her. She was excellent with void magic before but now it was as if it was a magnitude...better? Worse? She could not say.

Her surroundings were a barren waste. The earth looked as if it had been taken from an inhospitable desert, even the snow had lost its luster.

“Stop! It’s enough for today, you should not strain yourself so much after what happened.” Alea trotted up to her as she saw that her friend had briefly stopped to rest.

“But I don’t have the time! I cannot endanger my teammates when we fight in the exhibition.” With a sigh, she shrugged. “I can continue tomorrow.”

Alea nodded and took her right hand. “Don’t worry. Those runes should be doing something more than simply channeling the power. And don’t forget your focus. It amplifies your control too. You should have gotten it back already?”

“I thought I had to do it this way? If I relearn everything with the focus wouldn’t I be dependent on it?”

“I don’t think you are wrong exactly. But maybe you try it without after the Exhibition?”

“I will.” Alyssa scratched her nose embarrassedly.

She felt reasonably well and the drain on her vitality was not great. If she did not overdo it, it would simply weaken her but mostly she would heal on her own. IF nothing big happened.

After dinner, Alyssa excused herself and walked outside to clear her head. Reaching the area she had trained in she saw two guards looking at the barren waste nearly thirty meters in diameter and decided to walk in another direction.

She reached a small copse of trees and took a last look around before her fingers formed the familiar glyphs and words spoken without duress but still hurting she brought the mirror.

The distance that was formerly as vast as all the world was now only a thin membrane. She stared into the darkness and the darkness opened its sole eye.

Hastily she let go and the mirror collapsed. Shivering she stood as the first stars rose into the frigid sky.

As she entered the dorm again everyone was sleeping and she softly laid down not wanting to disturb her friends.

Sleep claimed her and her dreams were disjointed hazy things, full of darkness and broken bodies.

She stood in the old elven ruins on a wide-open courtyard paved with old, cracked stone tiles, the statue in the middle was the same as she remembered. Starlight fell from above the stone eyes held eternal frost. Rustling thornmen slunk in the shadows far from the puddles of illumination.

“Why did you choose me? I will never be enough to battle a lich. I would not be enough for something like the host that attacked in Sorringen, why? Why me?”

No answers came and she felt dizzy and the night ended with her waking up with a headache.

Days passed. She trained and she grew weaker even as her control recovered bit by bit.

Her friends cautioned her and Vanessa brewed another batch of potions. This time one was sent to Adelaide.

She dreamed.

The darkness was empty this time, there were no thornmen, no statue, no stars- Only a great eye that looked at her.

Something shifted in the lightless void and came near. And then it was before her. She raised her arm to- what?- touch?- defend?

Another arm rose toward her blacker than the night and there stood a girl clothed in shadows and regarded her with a single glowing eye.

“Who…” voices mingled and one was hers the other?

“...are you…” the two voices formed a chorus and for a mad moment, she wanted to sing just to see what it would sound like.

The black girl raised a single finger towards her lip and shook her head.

Alyssa ceased her questioning and nodded gaining a smile in return.

The girl was a perfect copy, a mirror of herself and she felt familiar somehow. Her left eye was glowing with light, her right was dark as onyx.

And she woke up.

Sometime in the palace

“Carl! Wait for me.” The girl with the pink dress ran after the boy and reached him just as he wanted to enter the palace library.

“Liese, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be with Mistress Theint?”

“I escaped!” The girl looked proud of herself, the cheeks were dyed red from the exertion.

The boy laughed and tousled her hair. “That is not good, she will scold you, and perhaps you will have to go to bed without supper. Be good and run back before she notices.”

Lieseleta puffed her cheeks and stomped her little foot. “Don’t wanna!”

“Then I will hide you in the library. You can read a bit and when she is distracted we will go back. Perhaps she will be lenient if I tell her I wanted to tutor you.”

“Thank you, brother!”

He always was a bit cold to people. People other than her that is. When they were young they were often together. They were the children of different wives. Lieseletas was the latest and for the time being last. Carl’s mother had been ill for a long time and after his birth, she never recovered and died shortly after. Without a mother and their father the distant and busy person he was he only had her- the other children being older and not interested in their younger half-siblings.

“Carl?”

“Sorry, I was thinking, what was it you were asking?”

“Do you want to come with me to the birthday celebration of Minette?”

“It’s been a while. I might as well.”

Colorful flowers, hedge mazes, and whispered play.

And it all went as a wilting flower’s petals in the wind.

Lieseleta woke up. When did it all go so wrong? When her mother used guile and intrigue to send Carl to the south instead of her? When his father sold him for benefits? Or when she, ashamed of her mothers doing did not even say goodbye?

Some things, once lost, are never found again.

She rose and prepared for a new day.

Wisteria Dorms

Alea woke up and looked around, it was still deep in the night. There had been a knock on the door but Alyssa and Mireille were still sleeping. Groggily she walked to the door and cracked it open. Outside stood Lorelle and whispered, “Prior Bertram is here. He says it is time.”

Alea froze then frowned a bit and finally nodded. “I will get ready.”

It was the time before dawn. The great temple plaza was empty. The large building for the worship of Jaros rose into the black sky on many columns engraved with the depiction of a sentinel guarding with a shield in one hand and a book in the other. Eyes on a distant horizon. The fountains were still and cold having been drained for the winter.

Alea shivered and looked at the statues. A dancing bard. A dignified king. And those silent sentinels.

Prior Bertram laid his hand on her shoulder. “Everything alright?”

Alea nodded, shivering a bit.

The priest lowered his head and mouthed a prayer, golden light suffused Alea’s clothes and warmth returned to her chilled arms. Smiling he led her towards the entrance.

Two armored Golems, double the height of a man, stood before the closed portal and began to slowly, ponderously pull open the massive doors. Fingers of gray grasped at the dark skies a first inkling of the coming dawn.

Snow drifted with them as they entered the vast hall, nearly a hundred meters in length, and to the sides stood the rows of pews and further back the columns supporting the arched roof. Shrines to saints and heroes lined the walls, eternal fires flickering like dying embers in a gigantic forge.

Men and women clothed in dark grey robes stood to the sides and chanted a low hymn. At the end of the path stood the statue of Jaros, God of Mysteries, the Watcher. He was depicted as an old, muscular man holding aloft one hand palm facing outward with a large eye in the center. Legend knew it as the eye of an abomination of the outer dark. The other arm held a book to his chest. The face is grim and drawn with fatigue. At his feet lie demons, twisted and dead, claws reaching for his legs.

Two great braziers with a diameter like a grown man lying down flickered with soft flames, only a handsbreadth high.

The girl walked forward accompanied by the prior, each step echoing from the vaulted ceiling lost in the darkness.

“We welcome you, child of light.”

“In the darkest hours of this time, we once more plead for intercession. God of mysteries, Watcher on the Threshold.”

“We gather to anoint the vessel of your might.”

“We gather to give thanks for your guard.”

“As you watch without so we watch within. Give us the wisdom to know your will and the ability to enact it.”

Walking forward the words of the prayers washed over Alea. She felt so small and foreign here. She had never been particularly religious. There had been pride, she remembered it a bit. When her parents were so glad for her and praised her as the delegation had found her suitable to receive the first blessing. But she did not understand at the time and she would have been just as pleased for a tutor to have praised her calligraphy.

She stood before the altar and looked up at the face of the statue. There seemed to be untold ages of suffering in the lines of this old face. The spider shifted and gripped her shoulder tightly.

The chanting ceased.

“In the hours before the morning, after a long, dark night. We welcome you Watcher.”

“We welcome you.”

“In the hour where sleep and dreams weigh on our souls and the enemy is ascendant, we pray to you.”

“We pray to you, oh God of Mysteries.”

“We bring you this woman, Alea von Graufurt. Once blessed. Today as the dawn comes after the darkness, kindle anew the touch of light so that we might be blessed with your protection.”

Voices rose and fell, thin threads of smoke wound from censers, and the smell of incense spread around her.

She was tired for lack of sleep, she felt like she was floating. The words were unimportant and far away. Outside the sky began to burn with red as the sun crept over the horizon and a ray lanced through the large window and hit the statue.

Somewhere far outside, farther than the moon, he stood between the small precious world he had helped to craft and the entities in the empty darkness between the stars. His sight grazed the green-blue globe and light glinted in his eye.

And light washed through the cathedral touching everything and everyone like the sun at noon and the light at dusk. Illuminating, warming, protecting. There were no more shadows, there was no uncertainty or doubt.

Everything was the light.