Morgan looked at the little envelope with the purple sealing wax. “Purple?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s actually violet,” Olivia said. “That woman really rubbed me the wrong way, Morgan. If you go, keep your guard up.”

“You think there’s something off about them, too, eh?” Morgan activated his Void Vision and studied the envelope—it seemed to be totally mundane. Shrugging, he slid a finger under the wax, peeled it away from the paper, and pulled out the little card within.

Morgan Hall,

Please join us for dinner at the Captain’s table this Thursday, the 27th of Tanewik, aboard the Skybreaker. Naturally, we’d love for you to bring a guest.

Warm Regards,

Tanna ap’Cilla, Baroness of Shattered Crag,

Together with,

Captain Gella and his esteemed guests.

“Huh. Baroness?” Morgan said, handing the card to Olivia. She read it and scoffed, handing it back.

“Well, as I said, keep your guard up. I’m heading up to my room. We’ve got some time to kill before the council meeting.”

“All right, thanks for delivering this,” Morgan said, waving the card before slipping it into his storage ring. He had plans of his own and meant to deal with them before someone came along to provide another distraction. He watched as Olivia disappeared up the stairs and then called out, “Tiladia?”

“Yes, Morgan?” the tinkling voice of his tower’s spirit responded almost immediately. He looked around for her form and saw her gliding toward him from the library.

“Is Issa still out?”

“Yes, Issa has yet to return from her excursion into town.”

“I’m going to the sixth floor—time I cleared out this tower.”

“Morgan, I think your chances with the next guardian are quite good.”

“Yep, I think so too. Anyway, you know where I’m going.” Morgan took a moment to pull his armor from his ring and apply each piece, allowing it to encase his body in a flexible, silvery layer of rune-inscribed protection. He waved his hand over his face, sliding the visor into place, drew Bloodfang, and stepped onto the stairs.

Concentrating on the sixth floor, Morgan strode up the steps, and before he knew it, he was walking out onto a landing that was made logically impossible by what he knew of the tower. Metal, perforated grates made up the flooring, and, high above, tall, narrow windows filled the space with light. Wide archways led away from the landing on the left and right, opening into huge workshops lined with high tables and cabinets.

Still more massive windows lined the walls of the workshops, filling the entire space with bright sunlight. Morgan activated Void Vision and scanned around. He couldn’t see anything of note in the central landing, but a bright flare of Energy from off to the right caught his attention, and he slowly stalked toward the workshop in that direction. A glimmering orange aura, reeking of fear, pulsed in the room's far corner. Morgan stalked toward it, readying a Vortex Lance as he pointed his blade toward the hiding creature.

When he stepped through the archway into the workshop, he saw that the aura emanated from behind a tall glass-doored cabinet. “I’m here, guardian,” Morgan said, his voice echoing hollowly from his magical helmet. With a burbling, wet belch, a mound of animated green and yellow ooze surged from behind the cabinet, streaking over the ground toward him. Morgan took a step back in surprise but didn’t hesitate to release his Vortex Lance.

His sword recoiled slightly as the projectile spun through the air at supersonic speed. It struck the mound of slime dead center and tore through it, spraying half the creature’s mass in a neon splatter over the floor and onto the wall behind it. The splashes of ooze rapidly trickled back to the main body, and Morgan realized he hadn’t harmed it at all. He reasoned his sword would have a similarly ineffectual impact on this monster.

Morgan looked around for the widest open area in the workshop and slowly backed toward it while the oozing mound followed. As it drew within a dozen paces, Morgan reached out and cast Energy Drain, pulling a thick band of pulsing orange Energy into his pathways. It was warm and cloying, and he willed his Vortex Core to spin faster in order to clear it from his pathways as quickly as possible. The Energy kept surging out of the monster, and it hurried its pace toward him.

As soon as it was within a step and dozens of probing slime tentacles sprouted from its bubbling surface, Morgan cast Void Wave. He smiled at the now-familiar sound of reality splitting as his dark Energy poured forth, annihilating light, air, sound, and everything else. As the wave struck the mound of ooze, Morgan watched through his Void Vision as the creature’s will and Energy fought against the destructive force.

Bright flashes of orange battled the consuming darkness, and Morgan knew that if he hadn’t been drawing a torrent of the monster’s Energy, it might have withstood his attack. As it was, the creature couldn’t deal with his two-pronged attack, and it started to dissolve in the face of the pulse of void-attuned Energy. As its will and store of Energy faltered, great chunks of its slimy structure simply ceased to be.

When the wave faded away, Morgan kept pulling with his Energy Drain until the stream faded to a trickle, then nothing, and only a thin puddle of oily-looking, gray fluid remained on the metal floor, slowly draining through the built-in grates. Morgan scanned around with his Void Vision, making sure no other Energy signatures were lurking nearby, ready to pounce.

He didn’t know if it was infallible or, more precisely, avoidable, but his vision didn’t reveal anything hiding. Morgan knew it was over when golden motes of Energy drifted up from the metal floor to surge into him. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t level—things had gotten slower in that department unless you counted dungeon bosses and advancement orbs. For the first time in a long while, he searched through his System menu to look at his quest objective:

***Quest: Defeat the guardians of Vormendion’s Iron Tower 6/8. Reward: Access to each guardian’s level and Vormendion’s Reliquary.***

“Well, that was fast,” he said. He’d barely been on this level for five minutes and was a hundred percent ready to keep going.

“It was, Morgan. I felt you were equal to this challenge back when you were missing a limb and had a much less potent aura.”

Morgan jerked around, his heart hammering in his chest. “Tiladia, you scared the crap out of me. Can you please, like, float into view before you speak like that?”

“My apologies, Morgan.”

“It’s nothing. Let me see here. You said the portal stones are on the final level, right?”

“They are, and, Morgan, should you best the guardian of the seventh level, you’ll be able to access part of the eighth, even before facing the final guardian.”

“Really? It doesn’t guard the whole level?”

“No, just the reliquary. There are unguarded spaces before that chamber.”

“What about this level? Anything here I should know about, other than these workshops?” Morgan looked around at the cabinets and countertops in the bright, high-ceilinged room.

“These laboratories are stocked with some rather difficult to acquire alchemy and enchanting paraphernalia. You’ll find distillers, centrifuges, scanning arrays, engraving tools, and myriad other instruments and tools within these cabinets. Vormendion put the most powerful and difficult to attain crafting supplies and tools in his reliquary, however.” Tiladia looped around in a large circle indicating the room and the one on the other side of the landing with expansive gestures of her amorphous form.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to invite Boris up here to check things out.” Morgan started walking toward the stairwell. Tiladia spun after him, rushing around to get between him and the stairs.

“What are you planning next, Morgan?” she asked, and he stopped to regard her.

“I’m going up to the next level.”

“Morgan, the guardian of the seventh floor is a significantly more powerful opponent than the one you just vanquished.”

“That’s alright; I hardly broke a sweat.” Morgan gestured toward the nearly drained puddle behind him with Bloodfang.

“Yes, well, I don’t count your chances as insignificant, but . . .” she trailed off in a very uncharacteristic show of not knowing what else to say.

“Relax, Tiladia. I’m feeling good about my chances. Talk to you in a few minutes, okay?” Morgan started walking around her again.

“Morgan, do be careful. Miss Issa needs you to be okay.” Tiladia’s voice was small and distant-sounding, and Morgan wondered what sort of memory she was reliving with those words.

“Let’s have a nice long talk tonight, Tiladia. I’d like to know a lot more about you.”

“That would be nice, Morgan.” She drifted out of his way, and Morgan started up the stairs.

#

“Hello, Professor Somhairle. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Oylla-dak gestured to one of the plush, sky-blue chairs in front of her desk. Somhairle smiled and sat down, his knees poking up as his long legs folded.

“I was wondering if there was any update on your student, Olivia Bennet. Have your scrying attempts born fruit?” His long, pale, angular face stretched in a strange, uncanny attempt at a rather unctuous smile.

“Oh, funny you should ask, Professor. This very morning, my scrying spell suddenly had success and at a much-reduced cost of Energy. Olivia is back on Fanwath, and I dare say, I’ll be surprised if she’s not back here in the next day or so.” It was true—Olivia had returned, and Oylla had scried her, happening to catch her talking to her tall, beautiful Fae friend about having to return to the academy. It was a fortuitous glimpse and had set her mind much at ease. Now that she thought about it, was it a little too far-fetched to believe that Somhairle’s interest in Olivia was simply coincidental with Olivia’s friendship with the Fae woman?

Even with the strangeness of the circumstances, Oylla didn’t see a reason why she should hide the information from Somhairle—he’d come to her with news of Olivia’s disappearance, after all. Following that line of thought, she continued, “You didn’t notice her return to our world? Strange, after you so quickly noted her departure.”

“Hmm. Not so strange as you might think. It was mere chance that I noticed her departure. No, my Fae heritage has its quirks. I’m not surprised at all. Thank you so much for the good news. I’ll look forward to meeting with her upon her arrival.”

“Interesting. Does Olivia have something to do with the Fae? You’re a professor here and have been so for a very long time, so I don’t question your motivations, but you did mention your heritage. As to your request for a meeting, I’m sure she’ll meet with you, though I do have quite a few professors lined up to talk to her about apprenticeships. Were you interested in such? I wouldn’t mind adding your name to the list.” Oylla opened a drawer and made a show of pulling out a pad of paper and a silver quill.

“Ahh, there’s a list? I surely wish you’d have let me know,” he said, still affecting that unctuous red-lipped smile. Were his lips overly red, or did they just stand out because of his pale skin, so white it tinged toward blue? “Olivia’s people come from a world where my ancestors once thrived. That’s the extent of any connection between Olivia and my . . . heritage.”

“Never fear, Professor; there’s always room to add your name. I’ll be sure you’re given an interview. Though, with Olivia’s inexperience and great potential, I’ll be helping her represent herself in these meetings. That won’t be a problem, will it?” An involuntary twitch flicked through Oylla’s wing, and the motion seemed to unsettle Somhairle.

“No, no. That should be fine.” He stood, sketched a very shallow bow, then turned to the door. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” he said, quickly slipping through without waiting for a reply. Something about him bothered Oylla, but she couldn’t decide what it was exactly—something to do with his fake affectations or perhaps the strangeness of his Fae heritage.

“Still, we can add him to the list. No reason why Olivia shouldn’t be allowed to make informed decisions.”