The theme on the blog still needs to be adjusted, I missed a lot of blocks to have everything conform to the custom theme. I also need to adjust the website and get this stuff posted on there as well, but I was getting tired of sitting on all this. Wanted to get it out to you guys!
She tossed the chalk aside, the utensil snapping in half as it impacted against the floor. The noise didn’t register, her gaze affixed to the crude casting circle that had been scribbled on the wooden boards. It was a simple circle, it was a simple spell, but nevertheless her nerves were on edge. Bright hazel eyes widened as they scanned every last detail of the circle, double and triple checking for errors, adamant on making sure it was perfect. Sweaty palms met as her heart skipped a beat and a subtle, satisfied smirk tugged at her lips. Then it vanished, and she snapped to her left, flipping through the last couple pages of the pair of massive books propped up at her knees, running a finger through line after line, desperately clinging to the faded parchment. She glanced back and forth from the pages of one book, to the circle on the floor, to the diagrams on the other.
They were a perfect match.
Slowly, shaking hands were raised and left hovering just inches above the tiny circle. Nothing seemed to be amiss, and yet the familiar sensation insisted on nagging at the back of her mind, desperate for attention. She shoved it away, shaking her head until the feeling retreated. Focus.
She took one last breath, closed her eyes, and began.
The incantation left her tongue slowly, the girl making sure she didn’t butcher the pronunciation. The phrase was ancient, words from a long dead dialect. She’d read them dozens of times, but speaking them still felt foreign. The syllables stumbled out of her, clumsily making their way into the world. The last of the incantation left her lips, and the first hints of magic began to take shape. The unmistakable scent of ozone cut through the musk of parchment, teasing her nose as the power of the spell sprang forth. Tiny arcs of arcane energy leapt from the casting circle to her fingertips and back again, sending a numbing sensation through her palms and up her wrist. Dust that had built up on books left unmoved for years was kicked up by the magical energy, making the air rough and unpleasant.
The spell intensified, the energy nipping at her fingers beginning to sting. The small breeze picked up into a more aggressive gust, sending the pages of the open tomes at her side and her loose hanging hair into a frenzy. She knelt over the circle and leaned in close, gaze locked on the now glowing runes. The ebb and flow of the energy shifted under her hands, spiked, and began to exponentially grow as she struggled to keep the arcane power focused. Energy poured forth from her fingertips, and she could feel it begin to take on a life of its own, slipping away from her command and doing as it pleased. She grimaced, the muscles in her hands fatiguing as she battled to keep the building pressure of magic contained just beneath her grasp.
With a shrill pop the energy within the circle overpowered her. The tendrils of energy leapt forth from the circle and scalded her exposed palms. The energy escaped, unguided, and discharged right in the girl’s face. The resulting shockwave toppled the young woman over and tossed her backwards almost four feet into the dense cherrywood bookshelf behind her. The old shelf creaked in protest from the assault, nearly toppling backwards before righting itself. Its contents were knocked free from the impact and came tumbling down in a heavy hailstorm of literature, leaving the girl in a heap of body, books, and bruised ego. She slumped over and her head hit the marble floor, punctuating the fall with a crippling crunch. She yelled out in pain, the cry echoing through the massive library. She regretted it instantly, biting her tongue to silence herself, ignoring the new sensation of pain and the taste of blood. She’d barely even begun to recover when the buzz of teleportation shook the air around her.
“Sera?!”
The voice was distorted and inhuman, coming from the center of the chamber, it’s owner unseen. Arcs of lightning crackled sharply in mid-air, the space around the anomaly twisting and deforming violently before a large glowing portal sprang open. The spell filled the room with flickering aquamarine light that seared the woman’s eyes, causing her to squint. The magical gateway rippled, and an old man, adorned in thick ornate robes of royal blue and shimmering champagne stepped out. He blinked for a moment, shook his head, and took a second to gain his bearings before looking around, the portal quickly sealing behind him, leaving the the Archive eerily silent.
“Sera! Where are you? Are you okay?”
The girl’s heart raced, and she looked past the old man and towards what remained of the circle she had scrawled into the wooden planks sitting on the floor with wide eyes, holding her breath without realizing as she examined the results of her efforts. The shattered pieces of the vase in the circle’s center still lay there unchanged.
She’d failed.
Sera’s arms went weak, her shoulders feeling heavy, and with a sharp slump they surrendered themselves to gravity. Her back hunched over and her legs curled up and retreated, and she sank back into the pile of books and shame she was buried in. Her lower lip trembled, the familiar sensation of singed cheeks and the burning of bile twisting her gut dwarfing what little physical pain was left. She couldn’t even look the man in the eye, feeling his gaze on her but too ashamed to meet it. A strained chuckle left her lips despite her best efforts to keep it caged in her throat. “Hey Davil…”
The old man’s eyes widened as hurried footsteps made their way towards her. “Child! Are you alright?”
She gave him a nod as he looked over the small disaster in front of him. A sea of books littered the usually ornate and orderly library, his student twisted and covered in priceless historical artifacts containing hundreds of years of irreplaceable knowledge. Sera stole a quick gaze at her mentor before shying away. His face was worn, permanently chiseled from years of being shouldered with a burden most men could barely fathom. He stared blankly at the young girl for a moment, before the deep wrinkles in his forehead became even more pronounced as his brow arched. Small beady blue eyes shimmered deep in their sockets as they examined the scene, filled with a subtle soothing serenity that Sera had often attempted, but was still a few decades away from being able to properly emulate. To her surprise, he smiled. “I had mentioned that the analog chamber needed some rearranging, but you seem to have gotten the wrong idea at what I was getting at.” He chuckled softly at his own joke, but Sera wasn’t amused, talons still clawing at her gut. His gaze continued to survey the scene until it landed on the makeshift casting circle scribbled on the planks, now partially buried under a smattering of displaced parchment.
His smile faded as he bent over, pushing the papers aside and examined the small circle. The board was singed from the failed spell, some of the details lost, but it’s purpose was still simple enough to figure out. He stared down at Sera, and Sera stared back, no longer able to avoid his gaze. He gave her a another warm smile, doing his best to hide his pity. He didn’t hide it well enough. “Oh child… what did you expect would happen?”
“I dunno…”
The old scholar nodded, letting out a deep sigh as he approached his pupil. The heels of his boots and his large gnarled oak staff reverberating through the Archive in a slow rhythmic triplet. He met her side and rested a worn, calloused hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm and gentle. Familiar, but firm. Sera instantly felt her muscles relax, and her breathing slow, despite her best efforts. The old man slowly made his way down to meet her, wincing a bit as he forced his tired body onto one knee. The wrinkles on his face shifted as he flashed her a slow disarming smile. “You did your best.”
A grimace spread across Sera’s face, her gut twisting even harder as her cheeks burned. She was used to hearing that. It never helped much.
The old man gave her shoulder an extra soft squeeze before getting back on his feet, running a hand through his long beard as he took in the mess around them.
“Let’s get this placed cleaned up, shall we?”
With a swift tap of his staff against the marble flooring, the books covering Sera were encased in a cool blue aura and sprang to life, zipping around the air in a precise arcane ballet. The fluttering of thick parchment filled the air as tomes flew open and torn pages nestled back into place, mending themselves before the restored volumes slammed shut and flew back into their shelves one after another with impeccable precision. The remnants of the ancient vase she had knocked over leapt up from the center of the singed circle and back onto the pedestal it had rested on, fully formed. He had accomplished in an instant what she’d failed to do after nearly three hours of of slow, studious effort.
The burning in her gut returned.
With a satisfied nod, he looked back down at the young woman. “C’mon then, let’s get back to work. There’s something else I need from you today.”
The young scholar wasn’t done sulking. “Are you sure? Cuz I was thinking of just retreating to my room and perhaps never coming out again.”
He gave her a playful wink. “I’m afraid not, but I have something a bit different in mind you might find interesting.” The old man started to pace, and Sera leaned against a nearby shelf and got comfortable. Pacing meant a long-winded explanation was coming. “An old friend of mine, Lyatt Golenshard, is due to return from a trip to the Continent today, and has brought with him some fascinating new scrolls on mana storage coming out of Garrlorn. They’ve been working on binding mana pools to common quartz, without having to first reconstruct the stone into Tellosite. Apparently they’ve succeeded.”
Sera raised an eyebrow. “That’s impossible.”
“That’s what I said too,” the old man nodded, fighting back a chuckle. “But the research was funded by the Garrlornian government. There’s little reason to doubt its authenticity.”
“This is fascinating, amazing even.” Sera shot the man a smug grin. “No idea what this has to do with me, though.”
“Patience, child, I’m getting to that.” Davil turned, making his way towards the stairs, motioning for Sera to follow. “Lyatt didn’t go to Garrlorn for these scrolls, he happened upon them by good fortune.” The old man groaned. “The man always did have a wandering ear. Looks like it did something besides get him in trouble for a change.” He shuffled his way through the large room, leading his pupil through the maze of shelves towards the staircase leading to the main floor. “As such he needs to make his report to Yarma immediately upon his return concerning the actual reason for his visit. Something about trade routes and bulk import on fishing. If I were to be honest, I lost focus on the conversation during that part.” They both shared a laugh as Davil made it to the end of the steps and held out a hand for Sera as she reached the bottom. An old habit from her childhood he’d held on to all these years. She did her best to contain an eye roll and took his hand as he continued. “He said he can bring the scrolls by in a few days after he’s done reporting to Yarma, but it’s not soon enough. I don’t want to lose even a second of examining these scrolls. If the Garrlornians are actually on to something, and mana can be stored in elements more common than Tellosite, it would mean even the the most meager on the Continent could harness the true potential of sorcery. No one is in a better position to capitalize on this than Ondaria. It would be a huge boon for our economy.”
Davil began to pick up the pace, and Sera followed suit. The pair left the empty analog portion of the Archive behind, and into the main chamber, filled with dozens of reading stations, a massive interconnected series of personal chambers where books by the thousand had been magically transcribed, able to be recalled and searched instantly with a quick application of sorcery. The chamber was buzzing with students of sorcery going through all different manners of research. Davil quickly moved past the main desk, heading towards the massive doors that sealed off his private chamber. With a quick flick of his wrist the runes engraved on the cherrywood lit up and the door was pushed to the side, Davil motioning for the young scholar inwards. Sera’s brow furrowed and her heart quickened as she quickly scurried inside. It wasn’t often anyone was invited back here, let alone her. She did her best to feign calm. “If this is such a big deal, wouldn’t Yarma want the scrolls taken to her directly? This sounds far more up her alley than fish.”
“Sharp as a tack as always, child.” Davil made his way behind his desk, but didn’t sit, instead continuing to pace. “While the research is likely not a fake, that doesn’t mean it isn’t false. We’ve been trying to imbue regular objects with mana pools for decades now, with little success. The fact that such a honestly…” He paused, eyes wandering towards the ceiling as he grasped for the right words before simply shrugging and giving up. “An unremarkable country, with little knowledge of sorcery could crack this formula while Ondaria’s best sorcerers have been stumped is almost as preposterous as it is embarrassing. Obviously we’d want to examine the research before bothering Yarma with such a staggering claim.”
“This Lyatt guy can’t just take a look for us? Is he really that busy?”
Davil sighed. “If only. The research is too complex for Lyatt to make sense of himself. He’s a merchant you see, not a scholar. As such, the scrolls make as much sense to him as his discussion on trade routes would make to us. Neither of us wanted to bother Yarma with this until I,” Davil paused and smiled at the young woman. “Until we, had a chance to look it over.”
Sera’s heart nearly leapt out her chest. To be front and center for what could be a turning point in the history of not only Ondaria, but for the study of sorcery in its entirety? Her entire body buzzed with energy, her mind alight with the possibilities. A giddy smile spread across her face. “Sounds like we have a long night ahead of us, then.”
“The first of many, I’m sure.” The old man stopped pacing, planting his weight as he turned to face his pupil, exhaling sharply before speaking again. “There is one other thing I’ll need more from you though…”
Her heartbeat doubled for an entirely different reason. “Oh?”
“I need to you to to the dockyard and meet Lyatt, and bring back the scrolls themselves.”
A lump formed in Sera’s throat. “You want me to go out there?”
“Child…”
“You know what’ll happen.”
“Sera, you can’t spend your entire life hidden away in here. ”
“I go out… occasionally.”
“Hunting for books and late night snack runs hardly count as a social life.”
The young scholar scoffed. “Who needs a social life when you have A Treatise on Meteorological Conjuring? Seriously have you read that book? It’s fascinating.”
“I co-authored it.”
“Oh did you now?”
The old man crossed his arms and gave his pupil a playful grin. “Flattery won’t save you this time, Child. Nineteen years is long enough cooped up in an old library. You have your whole life ahead of you. It’s about time you began embracing it.”
“Right. And how long have you been ‘cooped up in here’ again exactly?”
He gave the young scholar a stern gaze.
“Ugh fine, you win! I’m going, I’m going!” Sera scowled and shuffled her way towards the back of the room. “Don’t expect me to stay and make small talk though, I’m grabbing these scrolls and ditching.” She made her way past the old man’s desk and towards the rear of the chamber, stepping onto an ornate platform raised a few inches off the floor. “Ready when you are.”
She stood still, back straight, arms down at her side, took a deep breath, held it, and waited. Waited for the inevitable burning sensation of sorcery to tear inch by inch at her entire body, like pins and needles with more bite. Waited for the nausea that came with being pulled from one location to another in an instant. Waited for Davil start the spell to activate the portal to the dockyard.
He didn’t.
She gasped and inhaled sharply, no longer able to hold her breath. “What’s the holdup? I just wanna get this over with…”
“I feel you’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Leagan is a rather small dockyard. It doesn’t have a dedicated terminal. I can get you close, but you’ll have to walk the remainder of the way.”
Sera suddenly felt ill. “How long of a walk?”
“Not long. Fifteen minutes if you hurry.”
Sera’s excitement over these scrolls was quickly waning. “Can’t you just teleport me right there?”
“Teleportation without line of sight is dangerous. That’s why we created these warp terminals in the first place, to help anchor the spells to a specific location and prevent… accidents.”
The girl grumbled. “Goddess… fine. But you owe me. Any other bad news?”
“There’s… one more thing.”
“What?”
Davil made sure not to make eye contact with his pupil. “I’m afraid I can’t you teleport back once you have the scrolls. You’re going to have to walk the entire way back.”
This time her heart threatened to stop completely. “…what?”
“These documents are too important to risk.” David kept his gaze firmly on his desk. “If we thought we could risk them, I would have had Lyatt teleport them to me the moment he informed me. We waited until he got back for a personal hand off.”
Sera’s fists clenched and trembled at her side, the pit in her gut returning with renewed vigor as it opened and seemingly swallowed all her insides as the realization dawned on her. “This isn’t about that though, is it? This is about me. About forcing me to go out there!”
“No, it’s not. These scrolls are from Garrlorn. They aren’t enchanted like the ones upstairs. They’re just normal parchment.” He paused for a moment. “Though I will admit it’s a convenient side effect.”
Her brow somehow creased even further. “This isn’t like going to the coast, Davil, around here, people know me! You don’t know what it’s like for me out there!”
“Child…”
“The way they look at me, the things they say…”
“Child…”
“Goddess drown me, Davil just open the damn portal, please!”
“Sera!”
Davil’s staff slammed into the ground with a magically enhanced thud that cracked the marble floor and reverberated throughout the small room, silencing the young woman’s protests, though fire danced barely contained behind her eyes.
The elder scholar quickly composed himself, his features relaxing as he slowly loosed a breath. “Sera… child. This is serious. Barring some insane happenstance, odds are you are going to be the new Head Scholar of the Tellosian Archive when I’m gone. And I’m getting up there in the years, that could be sooner than either of us would like.
“Davil!”
“Death is a fact, not a phantom, and my bringing it up doesn’t make it any more or less so. As the Head Scholar, I’m required to interact with many of the top Vassal Families, bureaucrats, and even Yarma herself. Not only here in the Archive, but out and about when and as they are in need my council.”
“But—”
“Interacting with the people of Ondaria is going to be part of your future. The sooner you can get over this discomfort of yours and hold your head up high out there, the better off you, and Ondaria itself, will be. This isn’t a problem that will just magically go away if you ignore it.”
Sera winced at the phrase.
The older scholar realized his slip too late. “Poor choice of words, but the point still stands. You need to overcome this, child.”
Davil approached the young woman seething on the platform, still doing her best to block out his words. Gently, he let one hand come to rest on her trembling shoulders, while the other slipped below her chin to force eye contact with him. “And when you do, your critics will have to think twice before opening their mouths. They’ll have to leave their prejudices at the door and interact with you, the person, and not their predispositions. And when that day comes, they’ll see your for who you are: the brilliant young woman that I’ve had the pleasure of teaching all these years.”
Her shuddering stopped. The fire in her gut extinguished by onrush of childish pride. Sera couldn’t suppress the small smile that crept on her face as her eyes darted around the floor.
Satisfied, Davil returned to his desk and, at last, took a seat. “Now please, do this old man a favor and get us those scrolls. I don’t know how much longer I can sit here and ponder the shame of our people being outpaced by a bunch of Continent-dwelling simpletons.”
The smile disappeared. Sera’s mind racing. She didn’t want to let her teacher down, but the thought of going out there…
“Are you sure you can’t just try an unaided teleport spell?”
_______
Stupid old man. Making me walk all the way to get his stupid scrolls…
A clenched fist and grinding teeth punctuated Sera’s aggravation as she stomped out of the portal, her body still buzzing with conflicting stimuli as the excess mana that brought her here wore off. The terminal itself was tiny, a simple semi-circular stone structure barren of any amenities, with only a single warping platform, barely larger than Davil’s personal chamber. A far cry from the sprawling zoo of the Tellos Central Station she was familiar with near the Archive.
The buzz of another portal springing open snapped her back to reality and ended her sightseeing. She hurried to the exit before the stranger made their way through, wincing a bit at the bright midday sun pouring through the feeble doorway as she forced them open and made her exit into the bustling Ondarian town square.
Immediately her senses were overwhelmed by the chaos before her; a cacophony of screams, songs, and, shouting. Children ran through the streets in play, chased by their parents worried they’d lose them in the crowd. Plays and puppet shows peppered the sidewalks as artisans put forth their best performances in the hopes of a generous coin. Merchants of all kinds bellowed to anyone and everyone within earshot, attempting to woo them with their wares. Fish of varying species and a plethora of preparation methods filled her nose with delectable aromas and tempted her stomach, the air alive with the mouth-watering sizzle of fried foods aplenty.
It was absolutely terrifying.
Sera’s anger towards the old man retreated to the back of her mind, replaced with a staggering fear of being out here with them. She immediately pulled the sash she’d fashioned around her neck tighter, hugged her cloak more fiercely, and hesitated, wavering in the doorway as she observed the madness below her. On shaky legs and against her better judgement, Sera slowly descended the stone stairwell leading away from the safe haven and into the company of the masses.
The buzzing of society blossomed into an unbearable roar as she merged into the crowd. The air became even hotter and stickier with bodies all around her, pushing and shoving and yelling. The explosion of a conjuration spell in a stall only feet away from her nearly stopped her heart, and she let out a shriek that was immediately lost in the madness around her. She hurried eastwards, pushing past a rambunctious crowd expressing their distaste at a play being performed. A nearby vendor happy to supply produce to be pelted at the talent onstage.
“Miss! Miss!”
She ignored the calls of the various vendors, them apt to heckle anyone who fell within earshot. A plate of fish was abruptly shoved into her face by a particularly determined salesman, forcing her to stop lest she collide with it. A glare laced with venom met the poor man, but he continued his pitch unhindered.
“I know you can’t say no to a helping of freshly grilled salmon from a handsome mug like this, eh? Only seven silvers!”
She froze, the admittedly handsome merchant planting himself in her path, waving the prepared dish in front of her with a smirk, letting the perfectly seasoned seafood’s scent tease her senses. She shrank away, her head snapping around, looking anywhere but at the aggressive vendor. She barely noticed a fork snap forward and shove a sampling of salmon down her throat.
“How can you resist that flavor?”
Despite herself she barely could. The salts and spices sent her tastebuds into a frenzy and instantly dissipated her disdain. The perfectly prepared meat melted in her mouth, and a soft satisfied grunt left her lips. The merchant eyed the scholar as she savored the taste, a hungry predator reeling in his prey, confident he was a about to make a sale. “So, how much c—”
The question died in the merchant’s throat, and he paused for a moment, doing a double take and examining his prospective customer a bit more closely. Sera’s jaw hung in mid chew, a very different feeling now gnawing at her stomach. He put a finger to chin as he raised an eyebrow. “This is an odd question but… do I know you from somewhere, miss?”
She swallowed harshly and nearly choked as her whole body shuddered, and she pulled at her sash again, tightening it till it hurt. Her head shook violently as her gaze met the ground, and and she bolted, nearly knocking the dish out of the vendor’s hands as she pushed on past him and blended back into the crowd. The maneuver earned her a string of curses from the vendor as he quickly fell out of earshot. Sera ignored him and pressed onwards, heart pounding as she broke into a light jog. She dodged and weaved her way through the thick crowd, resorting to simply barreling through people when they left her no other options.
After a seeming eternity of battling the masses, the crowd finally began to thin, Sera making it past the bustling busy bazaar and towards the outskirts of town. The auditory chaos of the square had faded, replaced with the occasional squawking from the gulls circling overhead and diving down looking for food, as well as the mirthful laughter of fishermen heading out for another day of work. The tall skyscrapers gave way to more humble homes. The air around her cool and with the scent of salt water. Sera took a deep breath of the familiar scent and relaxed a bit, slowing from a jog back to a more casual pace. Feeling began to return to her fingers as she loosened her death grip on her cloak, letting her limbs fall back to her side and into a natural rhythm, the tension slowly slipping away as her gut began to untwist.
The sounds of men at work and the scent of salt mixed with sweat began to subtly tickle at Sera’s senses as she approached Leagan, one of the many dockyards that littered Ondaria’s coast. The dense packing of rural homes began to thin, giving way to daunting array of docks hosting all manners of ships making berth. From humble fishing skiffs, to massive vessels that towered over the passersby, the scholar’s vision was dominated by a cornucopia of sea faring vessels. The creaking percussion of masts and the gentle fluttering of sails swaying to and fro in the summer breeze was punctuated by the hearty cheers and jeers of sailors diligently tending to the decks, either preparing for today’s voyage, or giving the ship a once over after returning home.
If this was a small dockyard, Sera shuddered at the prospect of a large one.
The burning sensation in her feet began to fade as Sera collapsed into a old wooden bench, loosing an obnoxious sigh as she sank into its callous embrace. The salt-worn wood creaked in protest as she shifted her weight to get comfortable, and she felt the flimsy beams sag a bit beneath her lithe figure. A forty minute walk wasn’t exactly what one would call overwhelming, but Sera was hardly an athlete, the most physical activity she’d get most days was climbing a ladder to reach a misplaced book, then going up a flight of stairs to put it where it belonged.
Sera’s gaze meandered as she took a bit longer than she’d have like to admit to catch her breath, before settling on the clock tower looming over the center of the city. Even from this distance, the massive spire was clearly visible, a fact that wasn’t an accident. She still had ten minutes before Lyatt’s ship was scheduled to dock. A strained groan sputtered out her lips and she reclined a bit further, settling in for the wait, letting her hands slide across the old wood as she stretched her shoulders and rested her arms atop the backstop. The rough texture of the aging furniture against her fingertips was interrupted with a sharp searing pain in her index finger, and she cursed loudly at the newly acquired splinter. The choice of language caught the attention of a nearby family, a mother and two children playing in the shipyard. The mother gave Sera a harsh glare, pulling her children close as she looked down at them, then back up at her, chastising the scholar with her eyes. Defeated, Sera simply gave her a wordless shrug with a small smirk in apology. The woman rolled her eyes but otherwise seemed to accept that, and let her children go back to their play.
Sera let her eyes linger, watching the family for a bit go back to play. The kids were both very young, a boy no older than nine, and his younger sister seemingly even younger. Their mom was completely disheveled, hair and makeup neglected and heavy bags seemingly carved permanently into her face. Both the kids were full of energy, talking the poor woman’s ear off about how excited they were to see Dad, and they skipped and frolicked around the dockyard, chasing each other, giggling, occasionally levitating the occasional stick and stone and casting them off the dock itself and watching them fall, earning a bit of chastising from their mother for themselves.
Sera couldn’t help but feel a bit of melancholy at the display.
A dull rumbling began to build, piercing the calm of the dockyard. The kids stopped in their tracks, retreating back to their mom with excitement in their eyes, tugging at her dress and buzzing with joy. Sera glanced back at the clocktower as she got to her feet. “Looks like someone is punctual.”
Sera’s gaze dropped downward. The rumbling increased, escalating from a minor hum to a powerful roar, deafening at this distance, Sera just barely able to hear the shrill cries of the children over a powerful droning bass that rattled her bones. The cries turned to cheers as the ship sprang upwards into view, and scattering the remaining gulls perched around the immediate area. Its appearance was almost identical to your typical wooden fishing skip, with one jarring exception: the powerful crystalline Tellosite Cells giving the craft propulsion, as it slowly shifted into place in the dock.
The noise from the ship was deafening, her teeth rattling in her skull as the low bass of the engines battered her body, realizing too late the error of sitting so close to the dock itself, suddenly realizing too late why the bench looked so unattended.
Sera quickly retreated from her ill-chosen seat and moved to the back of the crowd, doing her best not to attract attention. The arrival of the ship began to draw people out of their homes, the small crowd that had already been assembled upon Sera’s arrival steadily growing the longer she had waited, friends and family ready to welcome the returned ambassadors, merchants, and traders from their long journey to the Continent. Her nerves were already on edge as it was, and more people showing up wasn’t doing them any favors. Skittish hands pulled her cloak tightly around her, and she hid in its thick folds as more and more people began to gather. As she looked around, she thought she had spied a small cloaked figure staring at her, but when she looked back again there was no one. She chuckled nervously at her heightened nerves and refocused on the ship before them settling into dock.
The gate of the skip dropped and a cheer rang out through the crowd as the passengers began to disembark. Unlike the regular fishing ships, visits to the Continent often lasted weeks at a time. The length was apparent just looking at the men’s faces as they stumbled off the boat, faces full of fatigue, but hearty smiles gracing their lips as they were assaulted by friends and family happy to see them return. One particularly man with a large gut and a scruffy beard let out a guffaw as he was tackled by the two young kids from earlier, his wife getting up on her tiptoes to deliver him a kiss on the cheek before propping up his kids on each shoulder and they took off. Sera smiled, but struggled to stave off another pang in her gut.
The traffic out of the boat began to slow, some twenty odd exhausted sailors having stumbled out in single file now mingling with the gathered crowd. The occasional straggler wandered off the ship every now and then, but for the most part the traffic ceased. Sera’s limbs went numb, the fish she’d unwittingly sampled threatening to come back up again. She had no idea what Lyatt looked like, outside of a simple description given to her by Davil. No one exiting the ship seemed to fit the profile. She felt her breathing increase and her gut constrict at the thought of having to wrestle through the crowd and start asking people where to find him, putting herself in front of dozens of people. What if she was wrong and this wasn’t the right ship, and she makes a fool out of herself looking for a stranger none of them had ever heard of? What if she’s misheard Davil and she had gone to the wrong dock, and Lyatt was already up and gone?
What if someone recognized her?
Just as panic was threatening to overwhelm her, another three stragglers made their way off the boat. The first two men’s faces quickly lit up, and they rushed to join the thinning crowd. The other remained on the boat momentarily, surveying the scene. He was an odd sight for an Ondarian: Bulky, sturdy, a wall of muscle with a grizzled edge. A far cry from the usual fishermen, sorcerers, and bureaucrats that made up the majority of Ondaira’s citizens. A smaller but equally imposing man joined him on the deck, and they talked for a moment, perched casually over the deck, before the newcomer began pacing, examining the ship. Sera assumed this must be the captain, for who else would show such care for an admittedly menial vessel? The larger man gave the probably-captain a friendly slap on the back before departing off the boat towards the few stragglers left in the crowd. His thick overcoat bustled with belt buckles and bulging pockets that rustled with each heavy step of his frame. What most caught Sera’s eye though, was the large sack full of scrolls he had slung over his shoulder. Sera gulped, the massive beard and square jaw lined up with Davil’s description, but he made no mention of his imposing stature. The scholar sighed, made her way around the crowd of friends and family, and tried her luck.
“… Lyatt Golenshard?”
She slowly approached the man as he made his way off the boat, and gave him a curt nod. Surprisingly, his sprang to life with a wide smile. “Hey there! You must be Sera, eh?” His voice was raspy, and even with a few words a thick, unrefined accent was immediately noticeable. “Davil told me to expect a young lass, didn’t mention she’d be such a looker!”
The merchant’s comment took Sera aback, his blunt demeanor stunning the scholar. She realized why the man looked so out of place, he wasn’t native to Ondaria. She blinked a few times before a stray finger pointed at his cargo. “Are those the scrolls?”
The merchant snorted. “Right then, straight to business, eh? I can respect that.”
Sera blushed. “Sorry… I’m just…” Her gaze pinwheeled towards the ground. “Uncomfortable… out here.”
Lyatt’s eyes wandered a bit as well, though they lingered on her sash for a few seconds. His expression turned a bit more dour. “Understandable, all things considered. I won’t keep you then.” He shrugged the sack full of scrolls off his shoulder. “These are all of em. Hopefully there’s something in there worth both our troubles.” He dropped the bag, letting it collapse against the concrete in a clattering heap. For supposedly irreplaceable info, he sure wasn’t treating them as such.
Sera held her tongue though, and instead grabbed the scrolls before anything else happened to them. Her legs nearly buckled hoisting the sack over her shoulder. “Heavier than I was expecting. Larger too.”
“Yep, they’re good ol’ fashioned parchment n’ wood. Gotta keep ‘em big so they can fit all them notes on ‘em. Can’t just recall stuff with a bit o’ magic. Big size, big weight.” The merchant shrugged. “Dunno how them poor saps on the Continent get by.”
Sera grunted as she shifted the weight to a more comfortable position. “With sculpted biceps, apparently.”
That got a good laugh out of Lyatt, a hearty chuckle radiating across the dockyard. The tension in Sera’s gut began to relax a bit. He knew, obviously, but he didn’t seem to care.
The laughter died down but a wide grin was still plastered over the sailor’s face. “Well, I did my duty for the old man. I best be gettin goin’ miss.” He took a moment to scan the dockyard and a smug smirk pulled at his lips. “Looks like none o’ my mates hung around for me though, the bastards.” He shook his head, still grinning. “You two have fun pokin’ around with those. I’m gonna go give my report to Yarma, then I’m dragging those desertin’ punks down to the pub and gettin’ some real ale. Shit in Garrlorn is even worse than their scrolls.”
Sera just nodded, her experience with ale of any quality basically nonexistent.
“Give the old man my best. And let him know he owes me for this. Dunno what yet, but I’ll be sure to make it unpleasant.”
This time is was Sera’s turn to laugh. “Will do.”
He turned his back and made his way off towards Yarma’s palace, digging his hand out of his pocket and giving the scholar another quick wave as he left. A harsh exhale sputtered out of Sera’s lungs. Her muscles relaxed, her heartbeat slowed, and her nerves finally began to calm. She glanced at the bag slung over her shoulder. She did it. No major issues.
The scholar adjusted her grip on the scrolls and looked around. The dockyard was almost empty now, the crowd mostly dispersed with loved ones in tow. The hum of the crowd replaced with the constant wash of the waves below and the occasional squawking of gulls overhead. Sera grinned, feeling a bit a fool for being so worried. She’d have to apologize to Davil for being so hard on the poor guy.
Uneven footsteps clattered against the pavement as Sera slowly made her way back to the Archive. Her legs were still a bit sore from the trip down, and none too pleased about the second round of physical exertion coming their way. Her calves made their grievances known as each stride burned just a little bit more than she’d like, the subtle shots of discomfort in time with the more precise pain of the bag of scrolls weighing down on her shoulder with each heavy step. Another few paces and the bag rolled off her shoulder and she stumbled, stopping mid-stride in an attempt to correct herself. Though her steps had halted, a few more unexpected footsteps reverberated across the now empty dockyard. Her heart leapt into her throat and she spun, almost losing her balance as the weight of the scrolls threatened to keep her in motion. Wide eyes darted around the dock, looking for the source of the phantom sound, but Sera was, apparently, alone. She did her best to calm her nerves, turning to head back to the Archive when she felt it again. A chill running up her spine, the unshakable feeling someone was watching her. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake it off as mere mindgames this time. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and scanned the surrounding area as best she could without being too obvious. No one seemed to be around, until she spotted him again. She nearly gagged on the saltwater air. The same man as before, poised just off the main road at an intersection with an alleyway, his cloak letting him blend into the shadows of the more shaded offroads. His face was still hidden but Sera could feel the glare growing in intensity. There could be no doubt now he was focusing on her. No one else was around. Her gaze snapped away, meeting the ground as her heart continued to thunder. The scrolls starting slipping from her grip and she grasped frantically to keep them from falling. Even turned away she could still feel the stranger’s gaze burning into her back. With a quick heel turn the scholar made haste, scurrying away as quickly as she could without blatantly up and running.
She made her way back to where she’d started in half the time, the sight of the small Warp Terminal giving her a second of pause, wondering if she should chance attempting a portal of her own back to the Archive. Fear got the better of her though, and she instead continued the journey home on foot, once again cursing under her breath at Davil’s expense.
Back into the crowd she dove, though it had thinned out significantly in the hour and change she’d spent since leaving. The midday bustle was dying down, and despite her earlier disposition she now lamented the more open space, no longer being able to disappear in a pulsating pool of people.
She wasn’t sure if she was being followed, too afraid to look back. The sensation of being watched was gone, but it was hard to pinpoint such a thing in a crowd. She simply pushed forward in an awkward stumbling gait, past the vendors still vying for her attention, pushing through the stragglers still haggling for the best deals, barreling through the games of children now starting to take over the more open streets. She was running now, full stop. Her mind on fire with the terrifying possibilities of what for all she knew could be only a few steps behind her.
After twenty minutes of running, Sera was exhausted, limbs in agony from both exertion and carrying such cumbersome cargo. She did her best to calm her mind and force herself to rest, slowing from a sprint to an unsteady stagger as the scholar began to catch her breath and her bearings.
Sera recognized a few landmarks, realizing she was closer to the Archive than she’d thought, and immediately pulled her hood more tightly over her face, the large sack of odd scrolls earning her confused stares from random passersby. She did her best not to be overly obvious as she glanced around the crowded street. The figure from the docks was gone. Likewise, the feeling of being watched had vanished, leaving her another face in a dwindling crowd. She nearly chuckled under her breath, the ridiculousness of the situation now only dawning on her.
Maybe she really did need to get out more.
The Archive was in sight now, what was merely peeking over the surrounding buildings in the distance before now just a short sprint away. She pushed her way past the few people remaining in the streets and rushed towards the front steps, eager to give Davil a verbal thrashing.
She froze.
“Figured you’d be heading here eventually…”
Sitting a few steps up on stairs leading up to the Archive, reclining casually, was the cloaked pursuer, his presence imposing as he looked down on her from atop the Archive’s steps, despite his relaxed posture. Sera’s nerves yielded slightly to an encroaching curiosity. Not to how he managed to beat her here, there were dozens of Terminals that led to the Archive, but of the man’s voice. It sounded vaguely familiar, and her mind sifted frantically through memories in an attempt to place it.
Ignorant or indifferent to her plight, the figure continued down the stairs. A repressed ire in his voice began to grow, building more steam as it was finally allowed to be released. “You’re her, aren’t you?”
His words filled the air around them, carrying beyond the step of the library and spilling into the square. Loud enough that the people still in the streets forgot their other tasks and stared. Loud enough that they began to recognize her too. A dozen other glares joined the hooded stranger’s, the newcomers too stunned to do anything but gawk. Their faces were full of pity, of sadness. And a few with a thinly veiled layer of disgust.
The stranger made his way to the end of the stairs, letting each heavy step linger. As his foot met the final step, he reached up and casually cast off his hood.
“You’re Seraphina.”
The young scholar stumbled at her name, legs threatening to give out on her. The now unhooded stranger, the handsome merchant from earlier, locked eyes with her, his warm salesman enthusiasm replaced with a cold grimace that threatened to cut through her. His expression lit up at her discomfort, and a subtle smirk nipped at his lips as the scholar struggled to compose herself.
“Let me see it.”
Sera’s blood ran cold. She knew what he meant. Her eyes widened and her head shook violently, and her hands reacted on their own, reaching for her neck.
“Let me see it!”
His arm sprang forward, crackling with mana. The people around froze, all of them sensing the presence of a combat spell being cast. Sera choked, the air around her becoming cold and dry as the spell stole energy to manifest. The magic tightened like a vice around her makeshift scarf, and the force of the spell pulled her off balance. With a grunt, the man snapped his hand into a fist and pulled, tearing the scarf from her neck and sending Sera hurtling towards the ground. The loose garment followed the path of his arm before fluttering away in the breeze as he let the spell dissipate, its purpose served.
The scream the scholar let out was blood curdling, drawing the attention of the few people still trying to mind their own business. She collapsed into a heap, wrapping her hands around her neck. The scrolls forgotten as they scattered across the ground.
It was too late though. They’d seen it.
A thick collar cast in obsidian sat heavy around her throat. The entire outer band of was inset with a series of runes made of raw Tellosite. Fastened to the front was a large blue jewel, brilliantly shimmering and reflecting the light, calling the attention of the crowd right to it, despite her attempts to keep it hidden. The flourish was a way to make it more fashionable, her father had said. More acceptable.
As if it could even be acceptable.
The merchant’s eyes narrowed as they settled on the glimmering glass. “You are her.”
Sera’s heart thundered, the force of the beats combined with the glares of the crowd gathering and gawking threatening to make her vomit. One hand shuddered at her neck, fruitlessly attempted conceal the collar, while the other hurried to force the scattered scrolls back into the dropped sack before further damage came to them. The merchant’s heavy footsteps made their way towards her as he closed the remaining gap, bringing the circle of the crowd around them tighter, the pressure threatening to swallow her.
“Tell me why…”
Sera kept her eyes down, still gathering the scrolls. Her voice was weak and wavered. “Why…?”
“Tell me why! Why would someone without Yarma’s blessing still end up in one of her most respected positions?” The man was pacing now, his face contorted as his voice strained. “It’s already a monumental task to familiarize yourself with the intricacies of sorcery, but for someone like you, to study a subject you’ve never known. That you never can know…”
For the second time today Sera felt small. Her “condition” making her a joke.
“My whole life I studied! Poured through every book I could, my father working to the bone to give me every advantage his meager business could afford! For five grueling years I gave everything I was into studying all there was about sorcery. Do you know why?”
Sera was silent. Frozen in mid grasp for one of the final scrolls. Her body shivered as she fought back mounting tears. Desperately hoping the murmurs around her about intervening would turn to action.
Her aggressor grew tired waiting for a reply. “So I could be Davil’s apprentice. Your job. Maybe give something back to my Dad after everything he gave up for me. Get him off that damned street corner and let him enjoy his final years comfortably. Give him the life he worked so hard to give me. And what do they do?”
“They steal it from me. With a flick of your father’s pen what I worked for was ripped away from me! Just to be given to some broken little girl!”
There were hushed mumblings among the crowd. Arguments of agreement and insult followed by calls for silence if they got too heated. Sera locked eyes with the man for the first time, wincing but unable to prevent the tears from leaking down her face.
“So I ask you again: Why? What do you have that I don’t? Anything other than a prestigious name? Anything?!”
Her vision blurred. Tears staining the scrolls she was leaning over. “I’m not…”
“You’re not?”
Sera dropped the scroll she was holding, slowly stumbling to her feet, a hush falling over the gathered crowd. A quick flick of her wrist wiped the tears off her face as her brow furrowed. “I’m not…”
She dug deep, recalling the teachings of countless books she’d read in her years serving in the Archive, a job she simultaneously loved and loathed. She calmed her mind and focused, inhaling sharply, remembering what little personal instruction she’d received as a child before her condition was apparent. Her mind reached out and grasped at the mana coursing through her, feeling its subtle ebb and flow as it cycled through her body in syncopation with her pulse, as much a part of her as her blood; the gift of Yarma herself. She concentrated on its presence, dull as it had been made to her. The obsidian band around her neck sprang to life, the runes humming and burning a bright blue as they struggled to harness and dissipate the mana she was attempting to summon. The Tellosite sizzled and burned at her neck as she overtaxed the object’s enchantment, summoning more and more energy, and forcing it to spring forth. Her body was electric with sorcery as the scent of ozone filled the chilled air. At last she raised her gaze to her aggressor.
“I'm… not… broken!!”
Her voice was full of venom, a guttural growl sounded alien even to her, sparked from a deeply seated rage that she had foolishly uncaged. Energy surged through her body, each frantic beat of her heart pumping more and more power through her, and suddenly she was afraid. Her fingers dug into her palms as pain and rage and terror embroiled and fused into a maelstrom of indescribable emotion, and seemed to take on a life of their own. She took a step forward towards the stranger, screaming and aiming every last ounce of uncontrollable energy directly towards him. A torrent of white hot flames engulfed her palms and tore through the air with an unholy screech. The wave of arcane fire impacted the cloaked man with an unpredicted concussive force. A sickening crack that reverberated through the entire square, his cloak immediately consumed by the flames and he himself was blown off his feet, dodging the bulk of the fire, but tumbling backward like a child’s discarded doll. His eyes went wide, darting around the crowd, looking for help. No one moved, too stunned at the display before them.
Sera’s confidence surged, and she went to press her advantage, gathering up more energy for another blast. The crowd around her snapped back to life and began to panic. The air suddenly full of terrified screams and disparate cries. It was only then that she noticed, the putrid scent of scalding flesh and fabric greeting her nose. Then the pain registered. She looked down.
Her forearm was on engulfed in flames.
“No! Dammit, no! Not again! Please!”
The flames ignored her, shooting up her arm, engulfing more of her body. Smaller fires sprung up on her legs and chest, burning through her clothing. The collar on her neck glowed a fierce blue as the Tellosite desperately attempted to absorb and dissipate the surge of magic her body could no longer control.
It failed.
Her legs gave way and she collapsed, writhing in agony, her screams and the sick bubbling of her own cooking flesh filling the air around the crowd. The people were panicked.
“What do we do?!”
“Someone needs to help her!”
“I thought that thing around her neck prevented things like this…”
“Yarma have mercy!”
“Someone get the Head Scholar!”
A few members of the crowd stopped gawking and finally reacted, attempting to counter her magic. Three sorcerers in student robes stepped forward, enduring the heat and casting spells of their own to dissipate the overwhelming energy pouring out of her. The flames calmed but didn’t subside. Sera tried to block out the pain, desperately willing herself to concentrate, to calm down and snuff out the sporadic sorcery, but the pain was agonizing. Thoughts left her mind as quickly as the entered. Focus was impossible. Nothing existed except the searing sensation of nerve endings literally burning away. Combined with the ensuing frustration, the reaction only grew more fierce. Her left calf was entirely ablaze now, the fire creeping up her thigh. The world began to blur, and her head felt heavy. Her cries subsided into muffled whimpers as her battered body began to succumb to encroaching exhaustion. The sounds of the crowed freaking out began to seem far away. So far away…
“Sera! Hey, Sera!”
The voice seemed far away, sounding distorted, but familiar. A blurred silhouette of a man just barely recognizable kneeling over her called in and out of focus. “… Orren?”
He let out something between a chuckle and a cry. “Yeah… yeah it’s me.”
Her eyes found his face, saw his smile. She tried to reach out to him, but all her limbs were heavy, numb beyond feeling. Her eyelids drooped, her body lulling her to sleep. “I know…”
Orren gasped and gently shook at her shoulder “Sera? Sera! Hey wake up! Stay awake, you hear me!” His arms flailed at his side, struggling at what to do. He looked away for a moment, his mouth moving but the words were too distorted for her to hear. Sera noticed tears streaming down his cheeks, face painted with distress. It was her fault. She made him cry. The wave of guilt that washed over her hurt more than the burns.
“I know…”
The words slipped out of the scholar’s lips were barely a whisper. Orren leaned in closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “What? You know what?”
“I know I’m broken… I know…”
The reaction was automatic. The heat scalded his exposed skin and bit at his thick clothes but he didn’t stop. He scooped Sera off the ground and pulled her close into an embrace. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re fine. Everything’s going to be fine, okay? Davil is here now. Just calm down. You’re going to be fine.”
Hearing his voice, seeing the blurred outline of his face, feeling his touch, he seemed to glow. The light intensified, and then they were both glowing. The flames consuming her body were suddenly enveloped by a aquamarine aura that burned even brighter than the fire itself, before snuffing them out entirely. Her whimpering subsided a bit, her shuddering slowed. In an instant the pain began to subside. Strength began to return to her, feeling pouring back into her limbs. Even the subtle burns on Orren’s arms began to clear. Both their eyes glanced up at Davil, alight with energy, staff raised high, his feeble body imbued with renewed vigor, appearing regal standing atop the Archive steps above them all, channeling Yarma’s Gift, pulsing with unfathomable arcane power privy to a only a select few. The glow faded and he nearly collapsed leaning on his staff, exhausted. He’d just finished casting a complex healing spell Sera had only read about in ancient texts ten times the age of Davil himself.
The stunned crowd erupted into a frenzy, praising their Head Scholar for knowing exactly what to do and having the ability to pull it off. Orren scooped up the battered scholar, holding her delicately in his arms as he slowly made his way to his feet. She was still weak, fluttering in and out of consciousness. The flames had been extinguished, but her body was still damaged from the uncontrolled magic. Her flesh that had been burned was still twisted and deformed. More intense sorcery from specialized mages would be necessary for her to fully recover. Davil made his way back into the Archive, and Orren hurried his way away from the crowd towards the side entrance to the building.
“Come on. We should probably get out of here while they’re still distracted.“
“The scrolls… don’t forget the scrolls.”
Orren looked around. “Scolls? What scrolls?”
Sera forced her eyes open, ignoring the hellish appearance of her scalded arm, trying to focus her still blurry vision and locate the bag and its scattered contents, but they were gone. The only thing remaining in the road the charred remains of an old worn sack, spilling out half burnt dowels and a pile of glowing embers on the pavement.
“Never mind…”
____________
He knew she hated flowers.
Orren cast a glance the bouquet he was nursing in the crook of his arm as the coins in his hand were hastily snatched by the florist. The man fingered through the coins with a discerning eye, before dismissing his customer with a quick bat of the wrist.
Orren chuckled under his breath, giving the vendor a slight nod as he walked out of the shop. He cast a glance at the prize sitting in his arms. He was an idiot. Sera was hurt yes, but this wasn’t back home, where an injury needed a multi-week hospital stay and dozens of complex medical treatments. Something that warranted a material token of empathy. This was Ondaria, the sorcery capital of the world. A couple hours with a decent medical mage and any ailment short of death was pretty much taken care of, and Orren was willing to bet Yarma had her best sorcerers working on that last one.
And yet for some indiscernible reason he still felt compelled by tradition to get her flowers. And the most extravagant bouquet at at.
She’d throw them back in his face, no doubt about it. Probably followed by some verbal thrashing about how ‘she doesn’t need some girly flowers’. If not that, at least throw a poor joke his way. Sera didn’t like that kind of attention. She didn’t like being pitied.
Too often she seemed confuse ‘caring’ with ‘pity’.
The cool ocean breeze picked up, caressing Orren’s skin as he hurriedly made his way towards the D’Vaylen Manor, the street now quiet save for the soft buzzing of streetlights that held back the encroaching nightfall. He had first stopped by the Archive, but apparently Sera had been taken home after the… incident, earlier today.
The thought made Orren’s stomach churn a bit, and his steps quickened.
The D’Vaylen home was massive. Such that it really had no business being referred to as a home at all. The estate was dizzying in scope, initially erected when Ondaria was still part of the Continent. The architecture was laden with flamboyant symbols of status, superfluous artistic details only possible during an age when buildings were painstakingly hand crafted. The garish over-designed sensibilities a harsh contrast to the surrounding modern geometric style that was created via sorcery today. A half dozen buildings the size of more modest homes were peppered around the main manor itself, which towered above the others, like it was trying to reach out and grasp Sol itself. A sprawling lawn littered with similarly ornate decorations stretched as far as the eye could see, kept in bounds by an imposing fence of stone and steel bars, which itself was encased inside a standard security enchantment, further preventing unauthorized entry. Orren approached the barrier and kept up his stride uninhibited, the force field letting him pass with little more than a slight tingle, the spell matching him to a short list of permissible guests. His progress was halted a precious few seconds as the automated gate slowly crept open, the dull mechanical droning piercing the otherwise quiet night. He shimmied his way through as soon as the gap was wide enough, careful of the bouquet.
A sharp crackle filled the air and a hologram of an elderly man in formal dress flickered into existence in front of him. The image hovered a few inches off the ground, and kept pace with him through the courtyard. It would have been jarring if he hadn’t seen it dozens of times before. The image waved and smiled warmly. “Hello again, Master Orren. Good to see you well.”
The man’s voice was unnatural, the inflection not quite right, emphasis occasionally placed on odd syllables. Construct enchantments still didn’t have perfect speech patterns. Nevertheless, Orren matched his smile. “Hey Jarrel.”
“Here to see the young Mistress, I presume?”
He nodded.
“Very well. I’ll open the main doors for you. She’s in her chamber.” Jarrel’s gaze lingered on the bouquet. “Are you worried about her, Master Orren?”
Orren felt his face flush, though he supposed there was little reason to be bashful in front of a glorified enchantment. He gave Jarrel a subtle nod. “Little bit, yeah. Gave me a scare earlier. Is she doing all right?”
“The young mistress has recovered fully. No complications.” He paused for a moment. “She didn’t leave her room for dinner though.”
Considering who dinner would be with, Orren wasn’t surprised. “Thanks. And Jarrel?”
“Yes, Master Orren?”
“Don’t call me ‘master’.”
“As you wish, Master Orren.”
The hologram bowed curtly and flickered out. Orren could have sworn the construct had a smirk on his face at the end there. He rolled his eyes and made his way into the main building.
The walk to Sera’s room took longer than it should have. Orren knew the way, of course, he’d been to her family’s estate more times than he could count over the years, but despite the frequent visits, he couldn’t help but get lost in the amount of things the family had managed to cram into the place. The D’Vaylen Manor was a cornucopia of sensory overload, packed to the brim with all manners of trinkets and trophies, a monument to inflated ego. The D’Vaylen house proudly proclaimed its status as a High Vassal Family to Yarma, and indulged in all the power and wealth that came with it. Weapons, armor, and other artifacts from famous Ondarian battles long past that were won thanks to familial battlemages were prominently displayed on pedestals so extravagant they threatened to distract from the item they were presenting. Tomes penned by the bloodline’s sorcerers that changed the way mana was used forever had somehow been “coerced” from the Archive and put on display here instead. Dizzyingly detailed oil paintings of the Head of House going back the better part of a century framed the hallways. Orren recognized most of them, though the earliest ones as barely more than disparate images from his childhood. The sprawling sequence of stuff lead to the main hall, itself having more extravagant paintings of the current family, nearly a dozen in all, commissioned every couple of years. They were displayed on high at the far wall, so everyone entering the estate could behold the glory of the D’Vaylen bloodline captured in unreal artistic splendor.
Orren noticed Sera was absent from the newer ones.
He made his way towards the arcing staircase at the back of the room. The plush carpet beneath his feet almost made him feel guilty for bastardizing it with his simple shoes. The room itself was eerily empty. The manor was packed full of things but utterly devoid of people. No one greeted him. Orren wasn’t surprised. The D’Vaylens weren’t known for their social skills. No doubt Sera’s parents were hard at work, their noses buried in holotomes, deep in the middle of some barely comprehensible research Yarma was demanding. Mr. D’Vaylen himself might not even be home at all, off in a meeting with the Conclave.
His son Elix, on the other hand, was still young, only Sera’s senior by two years. He took after his family in talent , but was also a bit of a party animal, and the night was still just as young as he was. No doubt he’d be sneaking his way through this room later tonight in a drunken stupor.
And Sera herself?
Well, Sera had a lot on her mind right now to be sure.
The thought finally hit about an hour too late as he stood at the door of her chamber, knuckle in mid-knock. Did he give her enough time to herself? Would she even want his company after earlier today?
Oh well. Too late now.
Two knocks. Then a pause.
Two more knocks.
“Go away! We’re done talking!”
Orren winced. Apparently Sera’s father was as tactful as usual. “Actually, I was just wondering if we were ever gonna get around to getting that lunch we talked about…”
There was a sudden flurry of sound from inside the room. The door flew open. “Orren!”
Her cheeks were red, eyes bloodshot from tears as she buried her face in his chest. The sudden affection took him by surprise, and he was slow to return the embrace.
Sera seemed to suddenly remember herself and pulled away, cheeks even deeper red for a different reason. “So uhh… what’s up?” Her gaze settled on his arm. “Are those flowers?”
It was Orren’s turn to blush. “You know me. Total sap.”
She opened her mouth, and Orren braced himself for the playful chastising. Instead, she merely shook her head, ginning, and waved him inside. “Come on you big dolt, I think I got a vase in here we can use…” Her smile faded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s stupid.”
He pointed at the flowers and shrugged. “So am I, apparently. It’s not so bad.”
She tried not to laugh at the lame joke. She failed. “Just get in here.”
“So what’s going on?”
She pointed to the empty vase sitting on a dresser. “It’s just dumb. I actually broke a vase at the Archive today. Tried to fix it.”
Orren slipped the flowers in while giving her a shrug. “That doesn’t seem so dumb.”
“With magic.”
“Ahh…” That was a little more dumb.
“I was cleaning up the shelves on the third floor and I found some books on casting circles.”
“I’m not familiar.”
“I wasn’t either. Apparently they’re used to help focus mana for certain effects. They fell out of use because drawing them gets complicated fast the more complex the spell, and Tellosite Cells basically made them obsolete.” She let out a sigh. “Still, they make magic easier. I thought… I’d hoped…”
Orren nodded. Nothing else had to be said.
The scholar let out another heavy sigh as she collapsed onto her mattress. “I’m just a failure.”
“No you’re not.”
“Oh come on Orren let’s not kid ourselves.” She pulled at the collar. “This is all the proof we need of that.”
“That wasn’t anything you did.”
“Like that even matters? No one else seems to remember that, and even if they do they don’t seem to care.” She groaned. “You should have seen it earlier. Dad ripping into me for losing it in public again, about how ‘the reputation of our bloodline is at stake’ and ‘you’re putting us all in jeopardy’. And of course Davil had to be the pillar of selflessness and play defense the whole time, trying to take all the blame since it was his idea to send me on an errand in the first place, trying his best to hide the disappointment, never once looking at me the whole time. Both of them talking about me like I wasn’t even there. Like I’m a Yarma-drowned child. And without any magic I may as fucking well be. A child at best, a pitiful freak at worst…”
Orren tried to get close. “Hey… calm down, okay?”
“Why? So I don’t burst into flames again? No one trusts me! Hell, I don’t trust me! Even you know to treat me differently!”
Orren backed off. Her words like a punch to the gut.
The flustered scholar seemed to notice, and her anger faded. “Goddess… I’m sorry. It’s just… why does it have to be like this?
“I dunno. I wish I did.” He let out a sigh of his own, eyes meeting the floor. “I’m not trying to treat you differently, I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Yeah but I don’t want to have to be protected, you know? I wanna be an adult. I wanna be healthy.” She let her body relax, and she sank into the plush mattress. “I don’t wanna be afraid anymore…”
Orren moved to meet her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’ll get through this.”
“Yeah…” For a moment her face took on a different expression. Steeled with a sudden surge of purpose before quickly fading back to a more neutral look, her gaze becoming aimless.
She rolled over on the mattress, away from him. “You should probably go. I appreciate you coming by, I really do.” She rolled her eyes a bit as her gaze meandered back towards the vase. “And I guess the flowers are nice too, but between the medical mages, the fighting, and the whole bursting into flames again bit, I’m just beat.”
Orren nodded, doing his best to mask his disappointment. “I understand.”
He got up, making his way to the door, Sera slowly crawling out of the plush mattress’ grasp and walking him to the door.
“Hey Orren?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Sorry we didn’t get that bite.”
He grinned. “Considering the circumstances, I think I can let you off the hook.”
That got a smile out of her. It was small, but he’d take it. “Goodnight, Sera.”
“Later.”
Slow footsteps carried him back into the hallway. He hesitated, turning around, letting his gaze linger on her for a moment, until she waved at him again and closed the door. With a sigh Orren made his way out of the empty D’Vaylen Manor, nodding wordlessly at Jarell’s usual pre-programmed farewell as he passed back through the courtyard. It was only when the gate closed behind him that Orren let the grin that had been itching to creep onto his face finally get the best of him, and he let out a soft chuckle.
He only had to wait three hours, perching against the fence and letting himself get lost in the mess of stars twinkling overhead, doing his best to piece them together into constellations while ignoring the chilly evening air nipping at his exposed skin. He was in the middle of stretching his stiff back when the sound of shuffling of boots against cobblestone cut through the evening stillness. He perked up, casting a glance over at the main gate as a large backpack was tossed over, hitting the ground with a harsh thud. The gate began to rattle, joined a moment later with a series of unflattering grunts. A slip, a curse, then a less than graceful vault, and a young woman made her way to the other side of the fence, barely sticking the landing as she nearly tripped on her own bag. Orren let her sling the bag back over her shoulder before he called out.
“So what are we doing?”
Sera’s whole body jumped and she stifled a scream, a shrill peep still escaping her lips. “Orren?! How did y—“
“C’mon Sera, I’ve known you your entire life.” He made his way over to her as his grin reached both ears, reaching out and giving her forehead a playful knock. “You think I can’t recognize when the gears are turning up here and you’re planning something?”
She grumbled a curse, waving him on after her as she started down the street. “Come on then! Let’s get outta here before someone sees us.”
For a while they traveled in silence, Sera slinking in the shadows with Orren wandering behind in a more straightforward manner, unable to keep the amusement off his face at the scholar’s overcaution. People out and about after dusk was hardly a sight to rouse suspicion, her attempt at subterfuge only drawing more attention to herself.
He did his best to give Sera the time she needed to open up, but his impatience finally got the better of him. “So… what are we doing again?”
She let out a huff and led him into an alleyway, double checking for a tail before responding. “I’m leaving, Orren.”
“I gathered as much.”
She began to pace, a trait she picked up from Davil. “I dunno what else to do. My family thinks I’m a liability, Davil thinks I’m a child, and I can’t help but think that neither of them are entirely wrong.” Her fist slammed into the wall to punctuate her statement. “I can’t keep doing this! This has to stop!”
She stood up straight, the energy in her eyes back again, and she looked him straight on for the first time that night. “I’m gonna find a cure.”
Orren raised and eyebrow without meaning to. “Is that even possible?”
“It has to be. A spell, a surgery, hell even just some way to control all this mana without relying on this stupid thing.” She pointed at the collar as her expression soured.
“Where will you go?”
Her confidence stuttered. “I dunno. Ondaria is the epicenter of magical study, but it’s too risky to move around here. Someone will eventually recognize me and drag me back to my family. I’ll be back to square one.” She shrugged. “Plus I’ve combed through a lot of the Archive the last ten years I’ve been there. Not once have I come across anything even slightly useful.”
Sera poked out from the shadows to make sure no one was following them before making her way out of the alley, again motioning for Orren to follow. “So I guess I’m going to the Continent.”
Orren raised an eyebrow purposely this time. “The Continent? The mana use there is hardly what we’d call sorcery.”
Her head drooped, and she subtly started nursing the hand she just hit the wall with. “You’ve seen the way people react to me, Orren. I don’t think it’s that there isn’t a cure. I just don’t think anyone here cares to look. Mana comes from Yarma. From the Gods. If you w aren’t able to control mana, what does that say about you…?”
The question needed to be asked. “What if it happens again?”
“What?”
Orren fidgeted, the words uncomfortable. “What happened today. If you… lose control again. If you’re out on the Continent, there won’t be sorcerers all around you. You could get hurt… or worse.”
“The people on the Continent might not all be sorcerers, but they aren’t completely helpless. You should know that better than me Orren, your people can’t use mana at all.”
He sighed. “That’s exactly why I’m worried. Where I come from, burns like what you had earlier take months to heal, if they even heal at all.”
She wavered for a moment before shaking her head. “I’ll just have to be careful then.”
Orren’s gut twisted, he had a bad feeling about this. “Sera…”
“Please, stop. The last thing I need right now is more coddling. I need results. And results aren’t here. Just excuses. So I’m gonna go find them.”
She turned sharply on her heel, glaring at the man with a raised finger. “You can’t tell anyone about this. You hear me? I don’t want you to get in trouble for my sake. When everyone realizes I’m gone, just play dumb and be worried like everyone else.”
“Well you definitely don’t have to worry about me telling anyone.”
“Thank you.”
Orren flashed her a grin. “Cuz I’m coming with you.”
“Umm… no thank you? You’re the Arterean ambassador’s son. People will notice if you disappear.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, and you’re the Assistant Scholar of the Tellosian Archive and the daughter of the Head Family. You think nobody’s gonna notice you being gone?”
“Ondaria is already trying to forget me. The few people outside my family who realize I’m gone will be relieved if nothing else.”
“Well I would miss you…”
That seemed to stop the scholar dead in her tracks. Even in the near black Orren could see her cheeks flush. “I mean… I know you would but… I can’t just… you can’t…”
“Let’s be honest for a second: Have you ever been able to talk me out of something after I’ve made my mind up?
Despite her best efforts a smile crept on her face. “No, I suppose not. Doesn’t mean I can’t try, though.”
“Well lemme know when you’re done. I’ll just tune out for a bit.”
She continued to protest for a few more minutes, Orren keeping his word and not acknowledging a syllable of it, trying to pick up where he left off with the constellations.
“Okay fine I’m done! Goddess you’re impossible…”
“Good.” He closed the small gap between them. “If there’s a way to do this, I’m gonna help.” With a swift step forward he snatched the heavy satchel out of the scholar’s grasp and slung it over his shoulder. “So let’s get started.”
She sighed. “Guess that means I’m gonna have to grab two horses from the stable.”
The bag nearly slipped out of his hand. “You’re gonna steal a horse?!”
She turned and gave him a harsh shush. “Don’t get all saintly on me. Besides, they’re Dad’s horses, so it’s not even technically stealing.”
Orren was pretty sure it technically was.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can take care of myself.”
“No you can’t.”
“Gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Oh excuse me, Ms. Bursts-into-Flames, I’m just calling it as I see it.”
He wasn’t sure if she’d take kindly to the jab, but Sera seemed amused, laughing at the line. Her voice came out a bit shaky. “Hey Orren?”
“Yeah?”
She hesitated for a moment, before taking his hand in hers. “Thanks.”
Orren’s heart fluttered, the touch taking him by surprise. Her soft fingertips tickled the inside of his palm before wrapping around his hand in a soft, trembling grip. The warmth of her touch shot up his arm and seemed to numb his entire body. He reacted almost subconsciously, grasping at her hand a bit tighter, appreciating each little subtle sensation of her fingers twitching as she returned his grip in kind. He slowed down to better keep pace with her shorter strides, erasing the little distance remaining between them. Her cheek caressed his shoulder, and she missed a step as she committed fully to the embrace, letting her weight lean into his forearm. Orren’s heart thundered in his chest. A warm smile burst onto his flushed face, and he let out an involuntary sigh of contentment.
Her question echoed through the forest, the young woman nearly falling over as she cast her gaze out into the blackness, her words fading into the void.
Her slender frame dodged and weaved through the dense sea of trees, hopping over downed tree trunks and just barely avoiding the rocks and debris strewn about the thick undergrowth. A raised forearm shielded her face from low hanging branches as she forced her way deeper through the foliage, and she winced whenever a particularly stubborn branch would make it past her gloves and add to the growing collection of scratches on her exposed neck and cheeks. Tired muscles pressed onward regardless, pushing through the dense underbrush. Her lungs burned with fatigue as they desperately gasped for breath. The air that filled them was unpleasant, thick and damp, reeking of decomposition, a scent made even worse from the rain the night before. Her heart pounded in her chest from a cocktail of fear and exertion, begging for a respite that simply couldn’t be granted.
An agonizing pressure behind her eyes continued to mount as she came across yet another massive husk of a stone building, remains of what used to be a proud metropolis now commandeered by local flora. Too large to make her way around it, the woman cursed under her breath and forced her way inside the ancient structure, squeezing around the massive roots that had burst forth from the ground and wrapped themselves around what was left of the door frame. The cursed woods and everything in them were laden with ancient magicks, and every time she made contact with another handhold shimming through the entrance, it sent a fresh jolt through her skull that intensified her raging migraine.
The woods themselves seemed off from the very beginning, a feeling that fueled some deeply seated instinct, screaming at her ever since she laid foot here to turn around and get out; a voice that was only magnified the more her survival instincts continued to take over. She mentally chided herself for the dozenth time in the last thirty seconds. A single line repeated over and over, each time laced with more contempt.
Stupid.
So stupid.
The far wall of the decaying structure had simply eroded away with time, and the girl easily made her way back outside. Beyond that last outpost, the landscape began to subtly shift the further she pushed forward. Ruined building became less frequent, and the massive trees that sprang forth in and around began to subside, replaced by smaller saplings and numerous bushes, before the foliage began to disperse entirely. No longer impeded, the woman was able to quicken her pace, rushing ahead with a renewed vigor kindled by the promise of open space. Scant rays of sunlight began to pierce through the dense canopy and illuminate the ground below as the forest continued to thin. With one final burst of resolve, the woman threw herself towards the light.
She stumbled out of the bramble and into a small clearing. Her legs finally gave out on her, and she collapsed to hands and knees, gasping for breath, ignoring the searing sensation that ran up her arms as she impacted hard against the ground.
It was only after taking a few moments to collect herself that she noticed the silence. The sounds of her pursuer had faded, replaced with the constant buzz of insects, the chirping of birds, and the occasional distant shriek of something deep within the woods she’d rather not contemplate. Her eyes took in the deceptively tranquil surroundings as she struggled to control her breathing in an attempt to calm down.
“I think… it’s gone…”
Silence was her only answer, and she fell further to the ground, cradling her limbs as she nursed her burning calves. A pathetic moan escaped her lips as she rocked back and forth in the grass. The adrenaline flooding her body began to subside, and the scratches on her face started to become noticeable, sharp pinpricks shooting through her cheeks with each exhale. Fatigue seeped into every last inch of her body, and it begged her for rest, the grass quickly becoming more comfortable as it cradled her exerted frame, threatening to lull her off to sleep.
She barely noticed the soft rustling sound as the foliage behind her was disturbed, her eyelids heavy and drooping. It wasn’t until the firm hand was upon her, grasping tightly at her shoulder, that she snapped to attention, a new wave of adrenaline firing through her. Her hand tightened into a fist and she leapt off the ground, ready to rain blows down upon her attacker, before freezing in her tracks when she realized who it was.
“Orren?!”
The young man jumped, pulling his hand away, face deep with distress.
His expression cut deep at the girl, and she winced. “Sorry…” Her cocked fist unclenched, falling to her side and she relaxed again, slumping back into the clearing’s alluring embrace with a long sigh. “At least say something next time. Nearly gave me a heart attack…” Her gaze slowly traced the figure in front of her; Orren’s appearance was equally as frazzled as hers. His proud olive tunic was in tatters, having been assaulted by both beasts and bramble, exposing the layer of ringmail underneath that she had, in hindsight stupidly, given him flak for insisting on wearing. The cuts and scrapes on his bare arms were less noticeable against his significantly darker skin, but the occasional trickle of crimson still shimmered against his athletic frame. Her stare rested on his wounds as pangs of guilt shot through her stomach, before moving up to his eyes, which were similarly giving her a once over. A soft smile touched her lips, despite her best efforts to conceal it. “You came back…”
His gaze shot off into the distance, expression heavy, before slow, unsure footsteps closed the remaining gap between the the pair. “You’re hurt.”
The girl’s brow arched. She looked over her body, only now noticing the sea of red on her arm and the rather nasty gash it sprang from. Her eyes jumped from the wound to Orren. “…What, this?” She loosed a nervous chuckle, the sight of the wound disturbing, but the pain barely noticeable amongst all the adrenaline. “It’s no big deal.”
Her would-be assailant ignored her, getting on one knee. “Lemme see…”
Tepidly, she extended her arm. Rough, calloused fingers met her skin as Orren took a moment to examine the injury. The eerie silence was dashed by the sound of tearing fabric, Orren taking what little was left of his sash and ripping a strip free to clear away the blood, followed by a longer strip to fasten into a bandage. Sera trembled under his touch, and the young man took a keen interest in the dew coating the grass as he worked. Even the ambience of the forest seemed to soften over the palpable tension.
The words left her lips without conscience. “You uhh… you okay?”
Orren’s hands froze, trembling a bit. He grunted, swallowing hard before finishing the bandage, giving it an especially aggressive tug taut. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”
“But what ab-”
A staunch raised hand stopped her mid sentence. Sera’s stomach churned at the blunt dismissal, until she noticed Orren’s face: eyes pinpricks, ears twitching as he glanced back in the direction they came. Her churning stomach bottomed out.
“What’s wrong?”
Terror came over the man’s face, and he sprang to his feet, pulling at the collapsed woman in front of him. “We gotta move, now!”
He grabbed her forearm and took off, pulling the young woman to her feet again before she could protest. His firm grasp tore at her just-bandaged wound, and she let out a groan of disapproval. The pair made their way through the clearing, the few beams of light that penetrated the canopy casting the entire area in an odd, dream-like patchwork of desaturated golds and greens. The scent of blooming flowers that peppered the meadow a harsh contrast to the surrounding smell of rotting leaves.
They had only made it a few paces when the ground beneath them shook, loosening leaves from the trees and silencing the surrounding fauna. The pair froze, slowly turning back towards the direction they had just left. Another thunderous footstep shattered the silence, followed by the snapping and splintering of timber from deep within the woods just beyond their vision. Then another. Then another. Each louder and more clear than the one before it.
Its eyes pierced the black first, the light peeking through the freshly downed trees hitting it in just the right way to reflect off it’s inhuman irises. Two stacked pairs of golden hollow pupils that glowed with unnatural luminance cut through the dark. Another tremor, and the full beast came into view, it’s otherworldly head, vaguely reptilian but with a strangely geometric jaw, towered over the pair, it’s body covered in a mix of scales and a thick coating of slime, causing occasional brush to stick to its four lumbering limbs. The creature’s larger size made short work of the difficult terrain that had impeded their progress, and it tore through the forest with an almost casual indifference. It’s broad shoulders pushed aside branches, and flattened bushes under its massive hook-clawed limbs.
The horror locked both sets eyes with the terrified pair in the clearing and stopped, slowing lowering its body, deep indentations carved into the flesh on it’s sides that could be mistaken for gills shuddering as it assessed the situation. It turned it’s head and blinked, eyeing the couple with an animalistic curiosity, unmoving.
Orren gave the girl at his side a soft tap, not taking his eyes off the horror before them. His voice barely a whisper. “You think maybe it calmed down?”
The beast unhinged it’s jaw, letting loose a deep, guttural bellow that reverberated through the entire forest, silencing it entirely, and froze the blood in the veins of its prey.
The creature’s limbs tensed, and it rocketed forward, moving at a speed seemingly unfit for its size. Trees were ripped from their roots as the beast came barreling through the remaining foliage, sending the forest into a frenzy. The ground trembled, the whole world seeming to quake in terror under the beast’s gait.
Orren reacted first, snapping out of his trance and breaking into a sprint, nearly yanking the woman’s arm from it’s socket as he all but dragged her behind him. She stumbled, trying to keep pace with his longer strides, and they both dove back into the forest in hopes of losing the creature in the maze of bramble and brush.
The beast in pursuit wasn’t deterred, bursting through the bramble and continuing the hunt. Against better judgement the woman looked back, and cursed loudly. The horror was quickly beginning to gain ground on the desperate pair. The ground to their left exploded, the impact of a blade the size of Orren’s forearm showering them both in a cloud of dirt and debris as the Manticore just misses him with its massive sickle-tipped tail.
The woman shook herself from Orren’s grasp and veered off to her right. “Scatter! We’re too big of a target like this!”
The panicked man began to protest, but another near miss from the beast right between them quelled his misgivings, and he took to the left, not letting his eyes off the young woman for more than a few moments, and made sure not to overtake her.
The ghastly creature, now faced with two targets, kept its focus on the girl, continuing to close the gap with its prey. She cast a glance back at her pursuer just in time to dodge a sweeping blow from its forelimb, diving to her left as the beast just barely bat air with its strike. The ground met her faster than she anticipated, and she toppled face first into the bramble, the wind knocked from her lungs.
The girl let out a strained cry, and Orren whipped around, making a beeline for the young woman. She struggled to her feet, gasping for air, but the underbrush was still slick from the previous night’s rain, and her boots couldn’t gain traction in time. In seconds the horror was upon her, leaping forward and pinning the woman against the ground with massive claws, one of them tearing through her right shoulder. She screamed in agony, blood pouring from the wound and soaking the ground beneath them. The creature’s twisted ears perked at the scent, and it let loose a victorious shriek, rattling the woman’s brain and filling her nose with the stench of dank breath leaking from it’s maw. Orren reached out in vain, still precious steps too far away to do anything but scream out in terror as the creature’s jaw slowly reeled back, then snapped forward, ready to sever the woman’s torso.
If you get enough crowdfunding and support, would there be a possibility of voice actors added to the mix? Oh and great job on the page layout! #SorcerersLostButNowImFound
It's definitely a possibility! We'll see how things go!
Just a group for fans of the series Sorceress Lost, being made by :iconTommyOliverDraws:, so we can share fan art and stuff. Typical rules make sure things go in the right places, and be respectful...
Attention artists!
Some of you guys have drawn me some awesome pieces of fanart for Sorceress Lost. Artist-GJ over on deviantART has started a dA Group specifically for collecting SL fanart! If you guys wanna hang out with other SL fans and get your work more eyeballs, definitely give this a shot!
After over a year of struggling, Sorceress Lost is ready to go in all of its motion comic glory! Updates will be coming around once a week, usually on a Wednesday. You can check it out by clicking here!
After struggling with getting the motion comic format to work with Tumblr, I decided to just bite the bullet and gave the project its own website I built from the ground up, SorceressLost.com! The site is fully optimized for mobile and should work on any device you use it with. It’s only the second site I’ve built but I think it came out really well all things considering.
This Tumblr still matters though, it is fully integrated with the main site, functioning as the News tab and blog, and should be styled identically to the site itself if the CSS I uploaded worked. Any updates for the project will be posted on this blog first, so stick around! You can get updates, along with exclusive content, sent directly to you by signing up for the free Sorceress Lost mailing list, which I highly recommend
I’m so thankful for everyone who stuck with me while I put this together. Hope you enjoy it! If you like the comic, please share it any way you can!
Also, I’ll be doing a livestream this weekend to celebrate the launch of the comic, follow this blog or @SorceressLost on Twitter so you don’t miss it!
After over a year of struggling, Sorceress Lost is ready to go in all of its motion comic glory! Updates will be coming around once a week, usually on a Wednesday. You can check it out by clicking here!
After struggling with getting the motion comic format to work with Tumblr, I decided to just bite the bullet and gave the project its own website I built from the ground up, SorceressLost.com! The site is fully optimized for mobile and should work on any device you use it with. It’s only the second site I’ve built but I think it came out really well all things considering.
This Tumblr still matters though, it is fully integrated with the main site, functioning as the News tab and blog, and should be styled identically to the site itself if the CSS I uploaded worked. Any updates for the project will be posted on this blog first, so stick around! You can get updates, along with exclusive content, sent directly to you by signing up for the free Sorceress Lost mailing list, which I highly recommend
I’m so thankful for everyone who stuck with me while I put this together. Hope you enjoy it! If you like the comic, please share it any way you can!
Also, I’ll be doing a livestream this weekend to celebrate the launch of the comic, follow this blog or @SorceressLost on Twitter so you don’t miss it!
After over a year of struggling, Sorceress Lost is ready to go in all of its motion comic glory! Updates will be coming around once a week, usually on a Wednesday. You can check it out by clicking here!
After struggling with getting the motion comic format to work with Tumblr, I decided to just bite the bullet and gave the project its own website I built from the ground up, SorceressLost.com! The site is fully optimized for mobile and should work on any device you use it with. It’s only the second site I’ve built but I think it came out really well all things considering.
This Tumblr still matters though, it is fully integrated with the main site, functioning as the News tab and blog, and should be styled identically to the site itself if the CSS I uploaded worked. Any updates for the project will be posted on this blog first, so stick around! You can get updates, along with exclusive content, sent directly to you by signing up for the free Sorceress Lost mailing list, which I highly recommend
I’m so thankful for everyone who stuck with me while I put this together. Hope you enjoy it! If you like the comic, please share it any way you can!
Also, I’ll be doing a livestream this weekend to celebrate the launch of the comic, follow this blog or @SorceressLost on Twitter so you don’t miss it!
After over a year of struggling, Sorceress Lost is ready to go in all of its motion comic glory! Updates will be coming around once a week, usually on a Wednesday. You can check it out by clicking here!
After struggling with getting the motion comic format to work with Tumblr, I decided to just bite the bullet and gave the project its own website I built from the ground up, SorceressLost.com! The site is fully optimized for mobile and should work on any device you use it with. It's only the second site I've built but I think it came out really well all things considering.
This Tumblr still matters though, it is fully integrated with the main site, functioning as the News tab and blog, and should be styled identically to the site itself if the CSS I uploaded worked. Any updates for the project will be posted on this blog first, so stick around! You can get updates, along with exclusive content, sent directly to you by signing up for the free Sorceress Lost mailing list, which I highly recommend
I'm so thankful for everyone who stuck with me while I put this together. Hope you enjoy it! If you like the comic, please share it any way you can!
Also, I'll be doing a livestream this weekend to celebrate the launch of the comic, follow this blog or @SorceressLost on Twitter so you don't miss it!
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