A head of her, the hustle and bustle of the kingdom fades away, even the ships sway with the lazy waves. Their mast lights glisten, moving to the ocean’s songs. A narrow path leads away from the district, without the smothering smoke overhead the rich purple of the horizon splatters across the sky. They travel through a cow path usually frequent by lovers and dreamers as the dimming stars awaken from their slumber. It curves around the eroded rocks that shelter the harbour, leading to a dense wooded area.

The scene before her resembles a romantic rendezvous from poem; a crisp linen blanket laying flat, overlooking the docks. She spies the wicker basket and a bottle of wine poking from the lid. He’s pretty confident, she thinks, as he motions to the bounty before them. She settles on the blanket, as the salt breeze kisses her face. It reminds her of another time; a rendezvous on the cliffs overlooking the desert. The splashing waves call her mind to the present; one where a dusty thief pours her a goblet of wine. A different place but the same moon above; a haunting reminder of a ghost she wishes to forget.

“Just ask me already.” She mumbles taking a sip, she knows he has a motive; its best to get it out then waste time with flattery.

“What’s your business with Allan?”

“I’ll tell you, if you tell me how you got the queen’s earrings?”

“Fair play,” he sets a few meat pies and figs on a plate. Her stomach grumbles reminding her she missed dinner.

“Why am I here?” She grabs a pie and savors the rich gravy and spices filling her mouth.

“To show you Lollardum isn’t all bad.”

“It isn’t exactly a vacation destination.”

“Especially, for people like you, I mean; your kind isn’t welcomed here. I’ve seen others like you left to die in the alley. Or hung outside the kingdom as a warning to the others. But here you are. How curious,” he smirks stuffing his face.

“Is that it? I’m some puzzle to you?”

“You may be the greatest puzzle yet, my turtle dove.”

“I told you why I came here.”

“Yes, to speak to the king. That’s what you said.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I’m not making accusations, I’m curious that’s all. You walk into apparent danger with only a cat and a child. I’ve seen Mages enter with a full guard.”

“I know how dangerous it is outside of the Kingdom of Ancients. Most of us hear the stories and choose to remain in hiding. It makes sense to live in places where we are protected.”

“Your kind are the most powerful beings of the continent. And you are afraid of us? In all honesty, you all should gather your forces and demand vengeance.”

“Some of us will agree with you.” She recalls the rookie Clayton’s attitude and entitlement. He didn’t care about the village he could have destroyed; he had his sights on her and that’s all that mattered. His reputation and prestige. She shakes him from her mind, “and it is those who your kind murder in the gutter and hang from trees. You will never fully understand what we are capable of. If you did, you wouldn’t say such things.”

“Your kind has no reason to fear us. Mages possess all the power.”

“Do you know why the Gods created us in the first place?”

“To rule over the Innocents, it’s what I hear the Mages preach in the streets,”

“Those Mages are charlatans; no reasonable Mage would trust them with scripture or their coin. Mages were created to help Innocents communicate with the Gods; a tool used to keep Umara in harmony. Because we swore an Oath to Zander to protect the Innocent, we face a moral dilemma everyday. How do we defend ourselves without breaking our Oath to Our Gods?”

“The ones I’ve met don’t seem to share your moral dilemma.”

“There are always those who want to make a name for themselves. Recent graduates from the Academy tend to feel like they have something to prove and find their way in–so called—troubled areas.”

“Is that what happened before? When Drover talked about the Opal Staffs being destroyed. There must have been an event leading up to the decision: to disarm your soldiers.”

“I disapprove of your word choice. But to answer your question: I don’t know.”

“Come on,”

“I’m not being difficult. The library housing those scrolls caught fire, and a great number of records perished. There’re gaps, somewhere between the creation and popularity of staffs and the Council restricting the Opal. I don’t believe the Opal is any more powerful than the others. But someone felt threatened by them, and in the end that was enough.”

“People in power, often prefer to keep it. Who do think had the most to gain from removing the Opal from production?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think anymore,” taking a longer drink, covering her bitter expression with the goblet. “The Council has made it clear that my opinion isn’t warranted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Chris please, I’ve had enough,” placing her cup on the blanket, “I should leave.”

“I think you should finish what you have to say,” he places a gentle hand on her arm.

“I shouldn’t talk about it. Especially, with you,”

“Because I’m an untrustworthy thief?”

“Because you are an Innocent and it’s improper for me to discuss the downfalls of my Order with an outsider.”

“I guess every club has their own rules…”

“I hope one day all of this will stop. It seems like every day it gets harder to pick a side worth fighting for.”

“Chris!” A voice calls from a rattling bush. She freezes, did the thief set a trap or worse; has Eclipse fled the inn to drag her back. “Julie told me I’ll find you here. I’m not mad about the earrings.”

“Damn it, why is he here?” Zack emerges from behind a tree; directly in front of Moira. He’s dressed in plain clothes with his sword at his hip.

“Why is she here?” he draws his sword but her staff lays at her feet.

“I thought you were returning to Alexanderia?”

“What are you doing alone with her?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for answers. The stunt with the earrings was over the top, even for you. Since when you associate with Mages?”

“Forget it, I was just leaving,” she reaches for her staff.

“Touch it and I’ll slit your throat.”

“That’s unnecessary!” Chris tries to intervene but Zack cuts him off.

“I don’t trust her.”

“I’ve had enough of this! I’ve tried to be the adult tonight, but you left me no choice.” In a single motion she flicks her foot, catching her weapon mid air, and points the head at Zack’s heart. “You want a fight, knight, then let’s fight.”

“Moira, stop. Zack, just calm down.”

Zack accepts; pushing Chris into the picnic before charging at her with his sword over his shoulder. He strikes left, she moves right. He’s the fastest adversary she’s encountered. Dangerously precise, with eyes like a hunter. A guttural battle cry rings through the air and he swings at her head. But she twists her body, rolling over the dirt in the last-ditch effort to save herself. But he didn’t miss, not entirely, blonde strands from her braid float to her thigh. That’s too close.

He's sprints again, her knees tremble, but she won’t run. She swings her staff at the exact moment he’s in range, but he dodges; ducks under it and stumbles out of her reach. It takes a heartbeat for him to recover, hurling his weight against her, jamming her body into a tree. She won’t forget the smirk; as he celebrates his victory. His damp hair sticks to his flush face, but he’s more invigorated than before. He’s happy her body aches, that she’s collapsed in the dirt against this tree. He knows no one will hear her screams.

Despite the bark stabbing her side she taps the glowing opal against the basswood trunk. The ground rumbles; accepting the command. The tree shudders and the magic hums in her blood. Agonizing cramps ripples across her muscles. He rushes at her as the ancient branches twist to life, slither past her, and shoot towards him. But he does something others haven’t done before. He slices through them, and they drop at his feet.

There’s no fear in his eyes, not even a hesitation as her magic confronts him. Two more branches replace the ones he dismantles; weaving around his torso and coiling around his legs. Jerking her staff, he swings to his left; like a puppet on strings. He slides inches over the debris, zooms high above her then slams downwards. He never hits the ground, she isn’t cruel. Just drop the sword, give up, and we can go home. But she can’t break his death grip on his weapon. The harder her efforts the more fearless he becomes.

Cloudless thunder draws her attention to a wild magic pulsing around them. Its not from any element she recognizes. It’s too brazen to control or negotiate with; something unheard-of. A sinister gaze takes over as his sword ignites with a golden glow. The spot below her neck burns, prickling her flesh, as the blade discharges its magic.

He dissects the braided branches; the twigs rain down as he lands on his feet. He rushes at her with superhuman speed; a flash of doubt flickers behind his intense stare, but animalistic carnage replaces the panic. His battle cry pierces the air as he brings the sword upon her. She rolls to the left as radiant light flashes. The blade slices the tree in two; each half shaking the cliff as it crashes to the ground.

“And to think that could’ve been your neck.”

She can’t catch her breath, in part from the attack but also the fear racking over her body. It’s impossible. She wipes the blood from her stinging lip only to notice her hand empty. Her staff rolls out of reach, wedging itself between broken debris. His sword glows, and Zack’s demeanor changes. This isn’t a squabble, this is personal, he’s going to kill her. And there’s no where to run. Her feet tangle in the vines but she avoids the fatal swing. The blade hits the ground; the earth shakes. She’s closer to her staff but cornered with her back to the cliff.

“Zack enough. You made your point!” Chris argues.

“Not until she suffers!”

“Don’t do this,” she pleads, “this isn’t what you want. This isn’t you.”

“Two choices Mage, me or the rocks,” he approaches, the wild look in his eyes, and forces her closer to the edge.

“Give me my staff and I'll make my choice,”

“A Mage’s last plea!”

“Zack, I need my staff. Now.” Her voice cracks as the ground shifts.

A crack thunders from the bowels of the earth. She launches herself towards him; knocking him into the dirt. She’s on her knees and puts her full weight into slamming her arm against his wrist. His fingers release the weapon, it sears her skin as she knocks it out of reach. His face snarls, like a possessed beast. Her instinct takes over, forcing her backwards from the danger. There’s a rumble before the ground gives way from under her. Her hand grips the jutting rock. Exhausted and sore she forces her free hand to the edge. A small reprieve, but the truth settles in; she doesn’t have the strength to hoist herself up.

“Zack my staff!” her hand slips as a chunk of moss falls free. She heaves herself to the left just as another piece tumbles to its watery death. But he doesn’t move, even acknowledge the urgency. Rocks crumble around her. Her strained fingers slip. Her muscles sting, she can’t last. Zack stands dumbstruck but her staff pops over the edge in front of her.

“Here!” Chris extends his reach. As her fingers graze the polished handle the ground tumbles apart.

She can’t believe she is falling through the air, again, and waiting for the frigid plunge. She’s alone, with the air whooshing past her ears. Taking the deepest breath, filling her lungs, she collides with the water; allowing the ocean to take her. She isn’t scared, quite the opposite. The unadulterated rage burning through her body won’t let any other emotion seep through. God damn idiots! The ocean floods over her, wrapping her in a blanket, as she plummets deeper and deeper.

Above the moon smiles, the cold light ripping over the surface. Its quiet, peaceful, if only she could stay. Her body protests, preferring to remain at rest than try to swim. But the stench reminds her where she is. She isn’t at that happy beach, instead she’s in a sick harbour. The water resists, tugging against her staff’s movements, determined to continue its lazy course. Her chest tightens, the circular motions squeeze against her, but it does obey. It spins, faster and faster until she’s yanked upwards.

A whirling yowl shudders from under the surface. The waves swirl, seaweed and bubbles blur her vision. She hears the crashing waves above. Thunder, low at first but grows as she ascends higher up the cliff. The cyclone rises with a deafening roar, until she spies the treetops. As she nears her salvation, sudden cramps shoot through her muscles.

Her lungs tighten, and panic forms in a throat. The tower pitches, then wobbles as her staff droops from its careful position. Below her are the two men, pointing in awe at the sight. The magic fades then vanishes and she crashes over the ground at their feet. But her lungs gasp for air as the water recedes. Strong arms hoist her into a sitting position as seawater spills from her lips.

“It’s alright, just keep on coughing, that’s a good girl,” it’s Chris’s soft concern voice as he brushes her hair from her face.

“How? We thought you were dead.”

Idiot…

“Are you okay?”

“I will be,” she mumbles as he helps her to her feet. Searching for her staff she spies it in Zack’s hand. There isn’t anything else in her stomach but it drops to her feet. She can’t go another round with this madman. She searches his face; the blood thirsty snarl is gone. He doesn’t stand as tall and confident as before. “My staff,” she insists. It’s a long minute while before he hands it to her; she hides the relief with a scowl; “I guess you do learn.”

“I didn’t want this to get out of hand.” The words are inadequate. But how much of it was his and how much was the combative magic in his blade. “I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough, but one day you will be.”

“Do you want us to walk you home?”

“To be frank, no. I’ve had enough of both of you for a lifetime.”