Morgan was exhausted, and the strain of sustaining himself via Energy Drain was starting to show; his pathways were burning, his Core throbbing, and his mind felt frayed, like he couldn’t focus properly on a given thought. Still, he persisted, and now, against all hope, he saw Bronwyn and Olivia standing on the other side of the throng of gargoyles. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had the gargoyle leader created some sort of illusion to throw him off? How could they be here?

He saw them hesitating at the entrance as if wondering if they should help him or deal with the big wizard gargoyle that was messing around with that enormous control panel. He menaced the encroaching gargoyles with his sword, trying to keep them back until his Energy Drain was ready again, and then the world started to vibrate. The alarm that had gone off when he began smashing the green crystal tanks faded away, but a new sound took its place—something like a whooshing rattling freight train or, as Morgan had experienced once in his life, a tornado.

The ground shook more violently for a moment, and he stumbled back into the corner, bracing himself against the wall. Most of the gargoyles fell down, so he wasn’t overwhelmed immediately. He looked toward the big robed gargoyle and saw its hands glowing bright red, and some sort of Energy was pouring out of it into the bank of crystals it had been messing with. Morgan turned to where Olivia stood with wide eyes and shouted, “Stop him!”

He watched as Bronwyn leaped to her feet and then charged the robed gargoyle with her fists suddenly limned in golden light. Olivia saw Bronwyn’s action, and she turned to Morgan, striding toward the rear of the jostling, grunting, hissing mini-horde of gargoyles. “Damnit!” Morgan hissed, worried that she was about to become gargoyle food. Then she burst into blue flames, and a torrent of lightning-wrapped fire that hurt his eyes to look upon sprayed out of her hands, completely annihilating the back third of the gargoyle throng. “Holy shit!”

Olivia didn’t stop there; she took another step forward and sprayed a stream of orange, smoking magma over the next clump of gargoyles in her path. They fell away, either instantly dead or so incapacitated by pain or injury that they might as well have been. There were only twenty or so gargoyles left between Morgan and Olivia, and she shouted, “Move out of the way!” He didn’t have to be told twice; he turned to where Bronwyn was fighting the big winged and robed gargoyle and activated Void Step. With a crackling rip in space, he was gone, and Olivia unleashed another torrent of plasma, spraying it over the screaming, mewling gargoyles.

Morgan appeared behind the robed gargoyle as it fired a beam of red light at Bronwyn. She’d encased herself in a layer of shimmering, glowing light that seemed to be deflecting the majority of the beam’s damage. Morgan swung his two-handed blade with all his might at the gargoyle’s exposed back, slicing away a large chunk of one of its wings. It screamed and whirled, the beam of Energy sputtering in its hands. Morgan swung again, but the gargoyle grabbed his blade, stopping it with a red-glowing hand, and wrenched it sideways. Morgan wasn’t weak, but that gargoyle pulled him around like he was a child.

He stumbled sideways as the gargoyle yanked his sword again, then the creature brought its other, glowing-red fist down on the flat of his blade, and it shattered into a thousand little pieces. “You asshole!” Morgan roared. At the same time, Bronwyn leaped backward, avoiding a swipe of the gargoyle’s long, spiny tail.

“Did I break your toy, fleshling?” the gargoyle growled, a deep chuckle following its words. Morgan pulled Bloodfang from the ring at his belt and launched into The Crane Flutters its Wings, refusing to give in to the urge to bandy words with the gargoyle. The creature, once again, thrust its red, glowing hands out, intercepting Morgan’s cleaves, though it seemed some strain started to show in its alien face. It hissed angrily, but Morgan kept pressing the attack, activating Azure Burst as the last of his cleaves was deflected.

Crackling blue flame erupted from Morgan, rolling out in a dome around him. Bronwyn’s eyes widened, and she kept scrambling backward. The creature held up its hands, holding them out with red Energy flaring against the onslaught of azure flames. For a moment, it held them back, but then the fire rolled through its barrier, and it howled in agony as the flames washed over its silvery robe and flesh, reducing much of the material to ash. As it staggered back, Bronwyn was there with a wild, glowing haymaker that she delivered to the center of the creature’s back, directly beneath its wings.

Something cracked loudly with the impact of Bronwyn’s fist, and Morgan dove forward, thrusting his sword into the creature’s gut. The gargoyle coughed up a gout of blood, and, to Morgan’s horror, it reached a glowing, red hand out to grab Bloodfang. Just as it started to pull, the ziggurat shook again, vibrating rapidly, and Morgan stumbled. Bronwyn, who’d been coming in for another attack, also stumbled. The gargoyle laughed again, even as it fell to a knee, “Fools, you’re too late. Better to run and hope I’m too busy to seek vengeance.”

Morgan fell back onto his butt as the ziggurat shook again, violently. What was happening? Something to do with the control panel the gargoyle leader had been interacting with. Still sitting on the vibrating ground, Morgan pointed his sword at the crystal and wood control panel and primed a Vortex Lance. The gargoyle saw what he was doing and screamed, “No, you idiot!” Just then, a white, steaming streak of superheated water vapor tore through the gargoyle’s face, obliterating half its head, and Morgan’s Vortex Lance blasted forth to shatter the crystal face of the control panel.

“Got him!” Olivia crowed, running over the vibrating ground. “What’s going on with this place? Is it going to blow?” she hollered over the roaring, freight-train sound that accompanied the shaking. Morgan was about to try to answer when the world suddenly turned inside out. The light became darkness, and darkness became blinding light. Bronwyn, who’d been struggling to her feet, suddenly lost her physical aspect and looked like a wispy, vaporous being of pure Energy. Morgan strained to look at Olivia and saw her also reduced to a flickering, multi-colored walking torch.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaa…” He tried to ask what was going on, but his voice turned into a long, quaking warble that echoed in his head. Then with a buzzing zap and an avalanche of silence, everything reverted to normal, and Morgan was left lying on the ground, dumbstruck by the lack of noise and normal aspect of his vision. “What the hell?” He grunted, just to see if sound still existed, and he noticed Olivia’s heavy breathing and Bronwyn’s muffled curses like a spell had been broken.

“Something just happened; we weren’t in normal space,” Olivia said, her words coming out thick and slurred.

“Ungh,” Morgan grunted, struggling to his feet. He looked around the upper chamber of the ziggurat, noting the mangled remains of the gargoyles that Olivia had finished for him. Then he realized the lights that had been glowing orange-red the whole time he’d been inside the mud-caked interior of the gargoyle base were dead, but a pale white-yellow shaft of light was streaming through a door behind where the control panel had been. “Let’s see what’s going on,” he gestured toward the door.

“Right,” Bronwyn said, fully recovered from her fall. She took two steps toward the door, and then the light suddenly changed from dim shadows illuminated by the shaft of light to an omnipresent golden glow. Morgan looked around to see a tremendous haze of golden motes rising from the defeated gargoyles. Suddenly a broad river of Energy was transfixing Morgan, lifting him into the air, and something similar was happening to Olivia. Bronwyn’s stream of Energy was significantly smaller, though her share from the gargoyle leader alone was enough to stop her in her tracks.

***Congratulations! You’ve achieved level 32 Void Adept. You have gained 8 Intelligence, 8 Will, and have 12 points to distribute.***

“Level!” Morgan said as a reflex when he’d recovered.

“Same,” Olivia said, “and I can make my first refinement!”

“Huh, I didn’t level yet,” Bronwyn said with a shrug. Then, she strode through the door, Morgan close behind, and he saw her mount some stone steps. He glanced back to see Olivia right behind him, still limned in pale blue flames.

“You need to explain what’s going on, Olivia; seems you learned a thing or two at that school.”

“Yep,” she winked at him, “but you have some explaining to do first, my friend.”

“Yeah, just tell me: have you heard from Issa?”

Her grin fell away, and she shook her head. “Sorry, Morgan. I just got back from the academy yesterday, and then Bronwyn brought news of your predicament. I’m not sure where Issa is.” They’d nearly reached the top of the steps, and the bright light was now accompanied by crisp, cool air. Morgan took a deep breath; he hadn’t realized how terribly dank the air in the ziggurat had become. When he and Olivia stepped out of the stairwell onto what had to be the top of the square ziggurat peak, Bronwyn was standing, looking out over a rampart, and she turned to them.

“We might be fucked,” she dead-panned. Morgan stepped toward her, noticing how their breath plumed out in the chilly air. When he got to the rampart and looked out, expecting to see the small lake and the mud wattle captive pens, he was shocked to find a broad expanse of white. Snow blanketed the flat plains for nearly as far as he could see, ending only at the horizon where purple, jagged peaks rose into the pale blue sky. Looking at the sky, Morgan was further disturbed to see two suns rising toward the zenith—one was pale and white, the other larger and yellow.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Yeah, and I forgot my ruby slippers,” Olivia said, walking up beside him.

***

Arthur Ballard surveyed the sprawling refugee camp that had taken shape around the western wall of First Landing. He wanted to be annoyed at Olivia, Morgan, and Bronwyn for sending him all these mouths to feed, but the truth was, most of the refugees hadn’t been any trouble at all. Even the Urghat, though unwilling to stay in First Landing, had disappeared into the northern plains without any violence, seemingly happy to just be back on Fanwath. The Ardeni were recovering nicely, and when they’d figured out where they were, they’d celebrated enthusiastically; they’d be back in Tarn’s Crossing with just a few days of travel when they were ready.

The stranger folk, the frog people, and bird people, whose languages weren’t translated by the System, were keeping to themselves, but the linguists and astrobiologists were having a field day trying to learn their languages and about their home biomes. All in all, Arthur had high hopes for their ability to add to the diversity and productivity of First Landing. If only he hadn’t had to trade his best three Energy users for them all, he’d consider himself a happy man.

***

Captain Gella stood on the observation deck of his airship, Shrike, and watched the strange Humans deal with this bizarre crisis. He’d been sitting in one of their taverns tasting one of their foreign delicacies, some sort of grilled sandwich with a smokey cheese and a tart pickled slice of vegetable, when the wild low-affinity creatures had streamed out of that incredible iron tower. He’d thought the Humans would massacre them; instead, they sheltered them and were trying to learn to speak with them. Bizarre indeed. He supposed the creatures didn’t seem hostile like Yeksa, but if the System found them worthless, why waste the time and effort?

“They’re strange people, aren’t they?” Falia asked, her eyes tracking the movements of a wagon bringing foodstuffs to the refugee camp.

“Very strange, but very valuable. When Lord ap’Gravin learns about our Energy affinity surveys, he’s going to reward us handsomely. I’m hoping he’ll choose Shrike to lead the ‘recruitment’ efforts.”

“Mmhmm. So many of them were so open and willing to share the details of their ability. Truly a naive people. It’s lucky we came upon them before they learned more or allied with an established faction.”

“Luck had little to do with it. Lord ap’Gravin has sources all over the continent. Well, sound the last call; we’re shipping off with the sunset.”

“Aye, Captain!”

***

Professor Oylla-dak calmly walked to her study door, refusing to hurry despite the frantic nature of the tapping. When she opened it, she was surprised to see Professor Somhairle; the reclusive man usually kept to himself, studying the strange brand of magic he claimed to have inherited from Fae ancestors. “May I help you, Professor Somhairle?”

“Where have you sent Olivia Bennet?” He sounded strangely flustered, and the lack of niceties was quite out of character.

“What do you mean?”

“Olivia Bennet. The Human student? Where is she?”

“Why are you so concerned?” Oylla found this man’s urgency rather alarming.

“She is no longer in this world, Professor. Did you send her elsewhere?”

“How strange that you would know that, Professor! Her whereabouts are privileged information, I’m afraid. Did you have some need of her?”

“So, you’re aware of her departure?” He seemed to calm visibly, taking a deep breath. “Very well, please let her know that I require a meeting with her when she returns. Thank you, Professor.” He didn’t wait for any sort of response; he simply turned and strode away on his impossibly long legs. Oylla closed the door, and when the latch clicked, her smile curved down into a frown.

“How very strange,” she said quietly. She did not know where Olivia was; she was meant to be visiting her home settlement. She strode over to her desk and took out the shiny black slate that gave her access to her students’ information. Holding her thumb against the cool, smooth surface, she thought of Olivia. Her information came up—Copper cohort, first year, enrollment status, course marks, known affinities, and health status. The last line was of particular interest. It didn’t show Olivia’s current status, but it didn’t show any trauma or death, either. “If she’s not tracking, then Somhairle was right; she left this world.”

Oylla touched the opaque white sphere on the corner of her desk, and it glowed a soft orange as a woman’s voice drifted out of it, “Yes, Professor?”

“Bring me Professor ap’Rall and the auburn-haired Ghelli girl from Copper cohort. I’ll need them for a scrying.”

***

Ykleedra ducked under the thick ferns of her new home, the beautiful atrium in Morgan’s tower. She’d made a nice, dark burrow in the rich earth, surrounded by the ferns and a few flowering, broad-leafed plants. She loved the damp nature of the air and the rich smell of all the plants. When she sat in her little burrow, whiling away the time, she could easily daydream with the brook's tinkling sound playing in the background. Today, as she came into the den and gently moved aside the soft, dark loam, she smiled especially broadly. Her brother and sisters would be with her soon.

She felt a little guilty about deceiving Morgan; she didn’t think he’d destroy the eggs, but she couldn’t trust him completely—not after he’d killed her mother and grandmother. If she wasn’t mistaken, Morgan had also killed her father. He seemed regretful, but did that make it alright? Did that mean he wouldn’t lose his temper and kill again? No, she had to be careful with him, and a little deceit was warranted when it came to the safety of her kin.

She looked lovingly upon the five eggs but most of all on the larger, red-flecked egg. Here was her baby brother, and he was already proving himself something special, growing nearly twice as fast as her little sisters.