Chapter 1
“From the Noble House of Galacia, Analise, please step forward. From the great House of Benton, Thomas, please step forward. From the revered Temple of Iona, Helen and Troy, please step forward. From the respected family of Triton, Francine, please step forward. Though children, all five of you are more than capable of this task. Led by, from my own Royal House of Bonne, Prince Elliot, you will reach the goddess Iona with very little difficulty. Please, take a goblet and drink as we commence the celebration before your departure.”
The group stands at the large table before the King. They each pick up a glass filled with wine--a special wine, meant to boost their abilities--and drink, perfectly in sync. They had practiced this ceremony many times, and the excitement of being chosen--be it good or bad--had largely worn off. The King continues his speech for what feels like hours, though is really only about fifteen minutes.
Francine nudges Helen with her elbow, albeit harder than she meant to. Helen doesn’t waiver and remained perfectly still, holding her goblet. Not receiving an answer, she turns to her right instead and uses the same tactic on Elliot. He, just like Helen, does not flinch, instead sending her a smirk from the corner of his mouth. Still standing, Francine grows impatient.
“Now, let the celebration commence!”
The kids sit down at the head table, various people coming towards them and asking questions or giving them their blessings; only Francine grows frustrated, the others used to this treatment. Even Troy and Helen, how live in the temple on the outskirts of civilization are used to being treated like royalty.
The ceremony ends and the selected group’s parents’ gather around the doors of the castle to see them off. Lord and Lady Galacia quietly remind their daughter, Analise, that she should only fraternize with Elliot--as he is the Prince--and, maybe, Helen. The others, even though selected by the King and his advisors, are considered beneath her by all other members of her Noble House.
Thomas’s parents--a count and countess--give him largely the same speech that Analise received; however his parents told him to cosy up to everyone besides Francine. They tell him to keep an eye on Analise, as she is clearly of age for a suitor, and only slightly above his station.
Helen and Troy’s parents simply go through a prayer with them before making sure they have all of the supplies they need. The warmest of the other parents--despite their cold appearance--the priest and priestess make their rounds to the others in the group as well, making sure they get a proper send off.
Francine’s parents, on the other hand, barely stay long enough to bid her a gruff farewell. They both are blacksmiths and, though they are proud of her--deep, deep, down--the idea that their only daughter has started down the combat path disappoints them. With no other children, the family business dies with them; unless she marries a blacksmith, which isn’t very likely.
After briefly discussing the plan once more, the King hugs his youngest son. The only reason these teenages were making up the search party is because they can be spared; all adults of similar talents have very important jobs that need to be done. Other than Prince Elliot, the group sees this as their chance to prove themselves to the world. Elliot, however, has nothing he needs to prove. In order for these families to be willing to part with their children, the King made sure he had just as much collateral. Thus, he guaranteed their safety using his own son.
It wasn’t a big deal if Elliot did perish, though. The King had three older sons, and even two older daughters. Elliot would never be heir to the Bonne family line. He had even gone so far as to give up on his royal duties, becoming a bit of a menace to those the King had touter him.
As the dawn broke over the horizon, the group of six pushed the castle doors open one last time, heading straight for the road. No one speaks for a while, all of them thrown together without much common ground. Francine is the one to break the silence, as they come to a fork in the road.
“Charlie, you have the map, right? Which way do we go now?” It takes a few minutes for Thomas to realize she was talking to him.
“Oh--yes. I do. However, my name is actually Thomas--Thomas Benton.” He pushes his glasses up as he speaks, holding the map with one hand.
“Let me see that,” Francine says, grabbing it. “I can’t even find the castle; what kind of map is this?”
Elliot stands behind her before flipping the map right-side-up. “We’re here.”
Red creeps up her face and Francine automatically turns her embarrassment to anger. “Why’d you have to hand it to me upside down, Charlie?”
Charlie starts to speak up, but Analise beats him to it. “We go left.”
“She’s right,” Elliot says. “Maybe she should hold on to this for a while. She’s a bit more no-nonsense then the rest of you.”
“Yeah? And what does that make you? The Prince who doesn’t want to do anything he’s told?” Francine retorts, still frustrated by the whole map situation.
“Why doesn’t everyone calm down?” Thomas says, waving his arms between the two of them. Elliot smirks.
“Did you just tell a Prince to calm down?”
It’s Thomas’s turn to be embarrassed. “I-I’m so sorry,” he barely manages to get out his apology, instead opting to bow his head as low as possible.
“He was obviously teasing. Let’s just keep moving.” Analise breaks in, starting to walk, Helen and Troy following close behind. The rest of the group watches them in silence for a few moments before they start after them.
Two hours of walking later, Elliot stops everyone in their tracks. “We’ll stay here for the night. Troy, Thomas, you two set up the camp. Helen, you can take Francine to try and find water for one of your divination spells. Me and Analise will scout the area. Don’t stray from your partner, and we’ll meet back here when it grows dark.”
He moves first, Analise quick to follow. Walking towards the forest that borders their camp, Analise pauses. “Do you feel that?”
Prince Elliot stills, trying to notice what she does. After a few moments, he gives up. “No, I don’t. What is it?”
“An unusually strong amount of Laen is coming from in there.” Analise starts moving towards the trees, surprising Elliot. Generally speaking, large amounts of Laen coincide nicely with someone--or something--that would love to kill you.
Drawing his sword, he catches up to her quickly, standing by her side. “Is this a good idea?”
Analise’s face goes slightly blank as she seems to be in a sort of trance. “The pull is so strong.” She weaves around the first few trees. Elliot follows, all sense on red alert. The wine from last night enhanced their abilities, but he still wasn’t able to sense what she did.
After walking for a few more minutes, she stops, pointing at a small rodent-like animal. Elliot blinks; “A sotir? What is one of those doing all the way out here?” He turns towards Analise. “And why can you sense it?”
Seeming to come out of her trance since she found the source of Laen, she shakes her head. “It can’t be a sotir. Try and open your mind to its signatures; it's that of a person.”
Elliot does as she says, sending his own mental feelers into the area around him. Without the aid of the wine, he would never even manage to sense anything past his own aura, but today he had a few feet at his disposal. The signature did seem strange for such a small creature; to be sure he cross-references it with Analise’s own. They are definitely the same. “That’s not possible, is it?”
“Apparently it is.” She pauses, silently watching the animal. “And,” she starts cautiously, “why hasn’t it moved since we found it? Usually sotirs run, but this one--”
“Is just staring at us. Don’t move. Protect your mind. I’m going to kill it.” Elliot holds his sword in front of him, ready to strike. A dull ache begins in his head and he quickens his pace. Not sure if killing the creature would be better or worse, he finally makes up his mind, skewering it with his sword. A sharp burst of energy spreads through the area in waves, affecting the pair.
“Maybe that wasn’t a good idea,” Analise says, trying to stop the pain in her mind. “Elliot?” Too distracted to be formal, she walks closer to his place on the ground. As he was closer--and did not have as strong of a mental shield as she did--he took it worse. As the pain slowly ebbs away, Elliot begins to come to. “Elliot?” she calls once more, not sure if she would be able to carry him back to camp if it came to that.
With a groan, Elliot opens his eyes, pushing himself off the ground. “We should probably get back. Make sure no one else felt it.”
“So, what’s it like being a priestess? Did you want to be one, or was it forced upon you by your parents? Or did you do it on your own to make them happy? Is the temple cold? Do you have comfortable furniture? How does the plumbing work, way out--” Helen cuts Francine off before she can continue by raising her hand. “What is--”
“Be quiet.” Helen forces Francine to be silent this time by pulling the air from her lungs. “The river is near. Come.” Francine follows the overgrown path to the river, making faces behind her back the whole time. When they reach the water, Helen manipulates the water, forming a large sphere with it.
Just as the sphere stabilizes--Francine had never seen such a feat--the wave of energy reaches the duo. Helen’s water crashes to the dirt, creating a large pool of mud. The girl collapses with her magic, Francine barely managing to stay conscious.
Both boys are nearly silent as they set up camp, Troy teaching Thomas some new wards that activate with fire. Thomas is a quick study, though he has difficulty conjuring the fire, despite his specialty in illusion magic. “Can’t you make it burn?” Troy asks, waving his hands through Thomas’ flame.
“It’s just an illusion. It’s not real fire,” Thomas replies, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Then give it the illusion of burning me.”
Thomas pauses; is that possible? He had never considered using layers of illusions to make them seem more realistic. Focusing on his fire, and Troy’s hand, he tries to add a factor of heat, tricking the other boy’s sense of touch.
Troy smiles, “There you go. Now you just have to manipulate the other senses. This magic is powerful if done correctly. Then again, I doubt you could trick these wards with an illusion.” Holding his hand above the drawings etched into the dirt, Troy creates a flame. The fire spreads over the entire area at the same time the waves of energy hit them. Losing control of his fire, Troy destroys the tent before both him and Thomas hit the ground.
“Are you sure you’re alright to walk back to camp?” Analise asks Elliot, holding him up by his arm. “I could form a ward around the area to protect you then check on everyone else myself.”
Elliot waves his hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”
“You said that over ten minutes ago.” They finally break through the line of trees. Their entire camp is on fire, startling them both.
Standing up as straight as possible, Elliot gets to work, using his own magic to fix any injuries, getting himself physically capable of running to make sure no one is stuck. Analise uses her magic to send feelers throughout the camp, checking for people. “Thomas and Troy are both unconscious in the fire. I can’t tell how much damage is done.”
Elliot swears, rushing towards his teammates, dispelling the fire. Analise follows closely after, trying to wake them up. Troy is the first to open his eyes, coughing slightly in the smoke. His hands are covered in burns, surprising him. “What happened?”
“You guys must have set everything on fire because of the shock waves. How are you feeling?” Analise asks, catching up with them.
At her appearance, Troy grows visibly uncomfortable. “I am fine. But if my sister isn’t with you two,” he starts, trailing off and looking in the direction her and Francine had gone off in.
Elliot peers over as well, but Analise doesn’t bother. “Helen is fine. My main concern is the fact that we have very little supplies left.”
“What do you mean?” Troy asks, thoroughly confused as to how she would know about his sister.
“Who put you in charge?” Elliot demands simultaneously.
Thomas’ eyes flutter open and he bolts up, yelling with his arms held out before his face. “Fire!”